Okay, the movie Spotlight. Why, other than its subject matter, did this movie win Best Picture?
No one is disputing the facts. The Catholic Church quietly shuffled pedophile priests around knowing they were active pedophiles, and as a result, a LOT of kids got molested. Everyone knows this. The reporters at The Boston Globe, working under the Spotlight banner publicized it. Good for them.
Did they have to make this movie so flat-footed and boring?
The big draw seems to be how realistically they portray journalists doing their jobs. They work in an office, they take phone calls, they interview people in other offices or over lunches at restaurants. Wow. That blows me away. Imagine the cinematic craft that can show what working in an office really looks like. And they did it with NO CGI! Amazing! You really get the feel of what a staff meeting is like!
Another point of praise for the film is that it perfectly captures Boston. Well, huh. I think The Blues Brothers perfectly captures Chicago, but at least that movie kept me interested.
Okay, low shot. Spotlight is a serious movie, not a raucous action comedy. So, there’s talk…and talk…and talk…and reading letters and documents out loud…and more extremely earnest talk about how explosive all of this is. Not that any of it is really explosive until Mark Ruffalo throws his Best Supporting Actor Nomination hissy fit. “It could’ve been any of us!!” I wish it had been. Then maybe this movie would’ve shown something memorable instead of just blathering on for two hours.
But then, probably not, because we don’t learn anything about Mark Ruffalo’s character, nor anybody else’s. It’s impossible to give a damn about anybody in this film, except for maybe the weepy guy that knocks over the coffee while meeting Rachel McAdams. See how being molested messed him up? Unfortunately, weepy guy only has two short scenes in the film and he’s gone. So that leaves us with McAdams, who mostly just looks wide-eyed at everything. Best Supporting Actress Nomination for her! Great job Rachel!
There’s a riveting scene where boss Michael Keaton realizes how guilty he is about forgetting a single letter out of the thousands he’s read in his journalistic career. He’s just as guilty as Cardinal Law because he let that one letter get buried in tons of paperwork. Oh my freakin’ god! The horror! The horror!
Oh, come the fuck on! The guy probably got hundreds of letters about child abuse and molestation over the years. Just because he didn’t jump up and act on THAT PARTICULAR ONE LETTER from fifteen years before doesn’t automatically make him a monster. Get a grip on reality people. The greatness of this movie is supposed to be about its realism, regardless of how boring it is.