Capote
On 16th November, 1859, the flamboyant American author of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote, reads an article about four members of a well-respected Kansas family who were brutally murdered one night. The notion of two very different worlds colliding - the protective unit of Clutter family and the rootless, amoral sphere inhabited by their killers - enthralls him, and Capote phones up William Shawn, editor of the New Yorker, to ask if he would be interested in a magazine article examining the effect of the murders on the local community. Shawn gives him the nod of approval and Capote leaves for the wind-swept plains of the Mid-West along with his childhood friend Harper Lee.
Speaking to an agent from the Kansas Bureau of Investigation, Capote admits that he is not bothered whether the murderers are caught or not - he is satisfied that the subject matter will play to his ambitions of producing writing that combines the emotional intensity of fiction with the raw urgency of hard facts. But when two young vagabonds, Perry Smith and Richard Hickock, are arrested and charged with the crime, Capote realises their stories could bring him the wealth and acclaim he so craves. Six years later he would publish In Cold Blood, a “nonfiction novel” that made him the most famous writer in America, a millionaire, and destroyed him from the core.
Bennett Miller’s Capote, which was written by Dan Futterman and stars Philip Seymour Hoffman, recreates this crucial stretch of six years from when Capote first set foot on the dusty plains of Holcomb, Kansas, to the launch of his bestselling book that emerged six years later and would turn him into a literary superstar. Published shortly after the hangings of Smith and Hickock, In Cold Blood was praised for its objectivity and cold portrayal of fact. However, the events and experiences that shaped the novel left Capote emotionally devastated.
The film shows Capote becoming transfixed by Perry Smith who, like him, was abandoned by his mother in childhood. “It’s like Perry and I grew up in the same house, and one day he went out the back door and I went out the front,” he tells Harper Lee. Perry’s callous bravado belies an apparent fragility, leading Capote to view him as a victim who deserves pity, not forgiveness. But the author is caught in a dilemma, for only Perry’s death will supply him with a satisfactory resolution to the book on which he pins all his hope. “Sometimes when I think how good it could be,” he tells a friend, “I can barely breathe”.
Phillip Seymour Hoffmann is simply outstanding in the leading role. He has Capote’s fey mannerisms, flamboyant dress sense and famously foppish lilt down to a tee, but Hoffmann does not offer a mere impersonation: he embodies Capote, almost as if the author’s spirit is flowing through him. Whilst conceding to Capote’s difficult upbringing, unlike many biopics, the movie resists presenting him as the “troubled genius” via a series of shadowy flashbacks to a troubled childhood. Rather, Hoffman simply gives us the man, without explanation or apology.
Harper Lee’s gentle pragmatism provides the perfect counterpoint to Capote’s narcissism and showmanship. She acts as his sounding board and go-between with the small-town conservatives that they encounter during their investigation, and is quick to expose Capote’s vulnerabilities, without going as far as judging him. She recognises that he cares for Perry, but is equally aware that he will exploit the convict for his book. “Do you hold him in esteem, Truman?” she asks, and he gets defensive: “Well, he’s a gold mine.”
“If I leave here without understanding you,” Capote tells Perry during one of many visits to his cell, “the world will see you as a monster. I don’t want that.” And sure enough, Perry recounts the events of that fateful evening in horrifying detail. Capote promises Perry he will support his appeal for release and find him a decent lawyer. He betrays him on both counts.
