Capote

As if spurned on by the brutalising I recieved at the cinematic hands of The Cave made a rare foray out of the house to catch Capote yesterday.

As an added bonus, the film was on at the Hampstead Everyman a lovely, cosy venue with comfy sofas, intimate auditoria and licensed premises (even the 10 nicker price tag looks good next to the money I paid to see Doom at Warner West End). Setrtling back with a glass of red wine, was pleasantly surprised by the film too, a much more focussed and meaningful biopic than the good but episodic Walk the Line which seemed to capture the manipulatice, self-centred nature of Capote and also the huge blow dealt by his total immersion in the case of the Clutter murders and in the minds of the murderers that made up In Cold Blood.

Not a perfect film, but then biopics rarely are, beautifully shot and a suitably whingy performance from Philip Seymour Hoffman - definitely the better actor but I'm not sure if battle of the impersonations might have been won by Joaquin Phoenix's Johnny Cash. Good to get a bit of culture though.