Capote (2005)

Every year, Gary and I run up to St. Louis for a short overnight anniversary trip/movie-watching marathon. I mean, no way do they allow stuff like Brokeback Mountain, 21 Grams, and Kinsey in Springfield -- so if I want to see all of the Oscar contenders before the Oscars, I have to travel a tad to do so. That's really fine with me as the Frontenac is truly my favorite place to see movies. The screens are a bit small, but I've never had to leave (or, more accurately, send Gary out of) the theater to complain about sound or picture and the patrons always respect the theater experience.

Anyway. Gary likes movies -- but the "marathon" bit of this annual event is really more my thing than his. We've gotten into the habit of three movies on Saturday with Gary skipping the middle one. Ever since the year he missed You Can Count on Me (my top film of 2000), we've made it a point to schedule it so he's missing the film we deem "most likely to suck." Since we'd both seen the trailers for Capote and wrinkled our noses at its self-importance and were in agreement that Hoffman's vocal affectation would get old FAST, we thought this was the safest bet. I was only seeing the thing out of duty since it seemed likely (from all of the critic awards) that he was a sure bet for a nomination. After the movie, when I walked out to meet Gary, I almost felt guilty that I'd gotten to see this masterpiece and he'd missed out.

This one knocked my socks off. It's surprisingly engaging -- very witty and gritty. Philip Seymour Hoffman wins the Oscar, hands-down. He made me love this guy, even as I was completely aghast at his self-involvement and lack of empathy for his subjects. He seemed to fool himself at times. Just an amazing performance.

Best picture. Best actor. Best director. I love this movie. Oh -- and due to my "will she ever shut up" string of praise Saturday evening -- Gary chose to see this one on Sunday rather than joining me for Syriana. Good choice.

A+