•
Rating:
A necessary premise: a great story does not make a great film, that's for sure. But Spotlight is not a work that rests on a politically demanding and engaged story; on the contrary, it enriches the central core of the story with a corollary of issues, topics, perspectives, individual characters. The attack, the j’accuse present is not so much directed at the pedophile priests: the aberration is too evident, the perversion too inexplicable to try to investigate it. No, the film reflects on everything that has developed around this kernel of pure horror: as the journalists of the Boston Globe themselves say, the singular case is not of interest, but the system.
So there are two major themes developed: the behavior of the church (especially in the person of Archbishop Law) and its ramifications in civil society. The attempt is to cover everything up, to resolve matters privately, to protect at all costs the image of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, thereby giving the perverse priests the opportunity to perpetrate new atrocities.
On the other side are the protagonist journalists: Spotlight is a tribute (by no means simple and banal, as noted below) to uncompromising journalism, which works thoroughly to achieve the truth. If the church poses obstacles, the journalists try to remove them. It’s not about discussing the facts themselves; they are established. The fundamental dynamic of the film is that of moving closer to or further away from the pure, crystalline, documented truth.
The reconstruction of the investigation by the screenwriters aims for maximum precision: an appreciable direction choice because it avoids any kind of simplification. This is not cinema that wants to simply "convey the idea"; no, it wants to explain things in detail, it wants to make viewers understand that often a detail can make the difference in accessing conclusive proof. An almost documentary-like approach, which, however, never slips into a cold and detached setup.
Credit to the writing, which brings to life a sizable group of characters characterized simply but perfectly functionally. The further credit is to make them emerge from the oceanic quantity of dialogues explaining the various, complex issues of the investigation, with almost no sequence inserted specifically to outline the portrait of a character. The characters emerge from the details nestled in sequences about other things: for example, while showing us the new director Baron giving his first directions, we also understand his reserved character, his almost awkward ways. The same goes for the other characters, particularly Mark Ruffalo's. But those of Keaton and Tucci are also well-written and just as well-interpreted. Perhaps the least convincing is Rachel McAdams’ character.
This approach could have resulted in weaknesses, but they are promptly mitigated. Heroic journalists? Not exactly; they certainly pursue the truth, they are disgusted by the horrors revealed to them (as one would be), but in the end, they are just doing an "excellent job." The truth does not have absolute value but only serves to carry out an impeccable job; therefore, having proof of abuse by 14 priests is not enough; better to wait to have it for the other 70 as well. A very subtle critique initially, which instead becomes more apparent towards the end, when Robby Robinson realizes he made mistakes several years ago. This deepens the discourse on the possibility of accessing the truth: often, the obstacles are numerous, but in many cases, the truth is right under the journalists' noses, yet they fail to see it clearly. Or they lack a director who wants them to see it. So, it's right to recognize their merits but also to point out their shortcomings. A film that is far more articulated than a mere tribute. The truth is precious, but it must emerge when most convenient.
Another possible weakness: the lack of addressing the central theme, the abuses. It wasn’t necessary to elaborate to explain the horror, but an emotional anchor was needed to develop the entire rational architecture of the investigation. McCarthy works not so much with images, but with language. As journalist Sacha herself says, in this case, language is decisive. Therefore, it is enough to hear a few words of confession, with a couple of explicit terms (and not the usual euphemisms), to open up a terrifying scenario that needs no further additions. It’s a cue, which doesn’t get dragged into the easy (and understandable) logic of commiseration, of tearful tones. Rather, the psychology of the victims is explored, adding further nuanced aspects to the events. There’s room for all the issues in the long dialogues: besides that of the children, the families' reactions are explained, often with sharp sentences that seal anachronistic situations with very bitter irony. Also, in other passages, some scathing remarks stand out for their ability to summarize.
Over two very demanding hours: the writing is truly excellent and manages to explain the entire complexity of the story. It not only conveys the idea but also explains many things in detail. The only small problem is related to the number of names and cross-references present; in some passages, given the amount of words, there is a risk of missing something. However, the writing never becomes confused: one might forget a name, but the thread of the story is never lost.
Loading comments slowly
