Truman Capote, the legendary writer and subject of the eponymous Sony Pictures Classics release that has been nominated for five Academy Awards, spent six years writing "In Cold Blood," the book that would cement his literary legacy while also leading to his spiritual downfall.
If the writing of "In Cold Blood" proved a Faustian bargain for Capote, the making of "Capote" has not left its principals unscathed. Bennett Miller, 39, who has received an Oscar nomination for best director, speaks over the phone with the world weariness of a much older man, one who has weathered many crises.
"I can't imagine anything that's going to prove as difficult," he said about directing "Capote." "It took everything out of me, and it took everything out of Phil [actor Philip Seymour Hoffman], as well."
Caroline Baron, the film's producer who worked with Hoffman on "Flawless" and has known screenwriter Dan Futterman and Miller for a number of years, said that all films present challenges, but that from the outset, she had "100 percent confidence in Bennett as a director and Phil as an actor."
Hoffman's presence in the project helped her convince investors to pony up $7.5 million for a movie to be directed by a first-time feature filmmaker.
Where Capote never forgave himself for betraying, or at least manipulating, Perry Smith, the murderer with whom he had bonded in writing "In Cold Blood," Miller said that collaborating on "Capote" brought him, Futterman and Hoffman, who have known each other since they were teenagers, "even closer. Something like this challenges you.
"In the natural course of a friendship," he continued, "it doesn't always happen that one's wants are up against another's. Not just any wants. Deeply felt wants."
Miller, who like Futterman is Jewish, met the latter in junior high in Westchester County, N.Y. He spent much time at Futterman's house, even occasionally celebrating Passover together. If Miller is not very religious, he has been obsessed with filmmaking since he got his first camera, a Super-8, when he was 11.
He got some strong reviews but little recognition for "The Cruise," a 1998 documentary that follows the quirky life of a homeless Manhattan tour guide who rattles off statistics about the Big Apple while riding a double-decker bus. "Capote" marks his entree into the A-list, just as "In Cold Blood" made Capote an international literary phenomenon.
Capote was already a darling of cafe society, renowned since the late 1940s for his short stories and later novels like "Breakfast at Tiffany's," when he saw the potential for creating a nonfiction narrative using techniques traditionally associated with fiction writing -- interior monologue, differing points of view and voice. He wanted to get the reader so deeply into the heads of two murderers that the reader would not only be chilled but also feel a modicum of empathy for Dick Hickock and particularly Smith.
Miller, Futterman and Hoffman have honored the man some view as the greatest postwar writer by making a film that, like the best of Capote's prose, has both a spareness and beauty. One of the frequent images in the film is a shot of barren trees in the early Kansas morning; they stand alone like sentinels that have failed to protect the Clutter family from violence.
Without a word of dialogue, these shots tell us what we have to know about Kansas, that it is a lonely part of the country with a lot of open space, and that there is something austere, even a little sinister, that could be lurking in this land.
If Capote disarmed people with his self-deprecating wit, his effeminate mannerisms and above all his bizarre voice, he also disarmed them with his surprising toughness, the kind that allowed him to brave a foray into Middle America, where few had encountered an eccentric like him before.
Still, it took its toll on him, just as it has on Miller, who relates a story from kindergarten. All the kids were asked to take those colorful, big blocks, known to all kindergarteners, and to construct "a kind of needle, a pyramid." Miller hid underneath a desk and watched as the other kids assembled their structures.
"Finally, I ventured out to do it. I did it deliberately upside down." With characteristic fatigue in his voice, he said, "That is how this movie feels to me."