Capote and the Nature of the Sucking of Souls
Yesterday, I went to see the movie Capote. Generally, I see a lot of movies; however, for some entirely undefined reason, I've been to very few in the past few months. (I saw Good Night and Good Luck about a month ago, but before that I'm not sure what movie I saw last.)
I almost don't want to see anything in the near future, lest it "wash away" the taste of Capote.
Of course, the acting was superb. (I think that Hoffman was perfect in the title role.) The cinematography was - almost literally - striking; some of the stark fields and skies and horizons made me pull back into my seat. The relationship between Harper Lee and Capote, and the relationship between Capote and Jack Dunphy was complex and not-entirely-articulated and hurtful and strong.
But I was most awed by the brutal soul-selling of the story. Capote made his Faustian deal; he was graced with the ability to lie without an affected blink, gaining the secrets that he needed to tell. But he paid. Many times over. (Yet, maybe, not enough?)
I don't delude myself. I've never written soul-shaking literature. I've never re-formed the way a generation thinks of the written word. I'm never going to.
And yet, I could admire a portrait of a man who did.
Mindy, still meditating
I almost don't want to see anything in the near future, lest it "wash away" the taste of Capote.
Of course, the acting was superb. (I think that Hoffman was perfect in the title role.) The cinematography was - almost literally - striking; some of the stark fields and skies and horizons made me pull back into my seat. The relationship between Harper Lee and Capote, and the relationship between Capote and Jack Dunphy was complex and not-entirely-articulated and hurtful and strong.
But I was most awed by the brutal soul-selling of the story. Capote made his Faustian deal; he was graced with the ability to lie without an affected blink, gaining the secrets that he needed to tell. But he paid. Many times over. (Yet, maybe, not enough?)
I don't delude myself. I've never written soul-shaking literature. I've never re-formed the way a generation thinks of the written word. I'm never going to.
And yet, I could admire a portrait of a man who did.
Mindy, still meditating
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