The subtitle of filmmaker Lisa Immordino Vreeland’s documentary on 20th-century literary titans Truman Capote (1924-1984) and Tennessee Williams (1911-1983) is a bit misleading since no footage of the pair in “conversation” is ever shown.
Instead, alternating quotes are presented—voiced by Jim Parsons as Capote and Zachary Quinto as Williams—against various backgrounds, such as landscapes overlaid on still photos of the writers (an effect that sometimes feels insightful, sometimes monotonous).
Fortunately, Truman & Tennessee also features archival interviews of the real Capote and Williams talking (separately) to David Frost, Dick Cavett, and Tom Brokaw. Here the two raconteurs shine, especially since these conversations were mostly conducted when both authors were well past their primes and seen more as personalities than contemporary artists. And Vreeland’s pairing ultimately turns out to be both logical and fortuitous, as Capote and Williams shared numerous similarities, large and small: both literary wunderkinds were gay, enjoyed early successes, became alcoholics, and struggled in their later years as writers. Both had distant fathers, suffered depression, were jealous of other writers (including each other) and were claustrophobic.
Vreeland takes a chronological approach that charts her respective subjects’ careers while also sharing their observations on a variety of topics, including writing, homosexuality, celebrity, relationships, and substance abuse. Williams notes that Hollywood versions of his plays always changed the endings due to censorship concerns (illustrative clips are shown from The Glass Menagerie, A Streetcar Named Desire, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Suddenly Last Summer, and Sweet Bird of Youth). Capote says that he wanted Marilyn Monroe to play Holly Golightly in the film adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but Paramount went with Audrey Hepburn instead (who, Capote admits, did a fine job).
Capote once (famously) said “I am famous for being famous,” but his impact on literature was in fact quite significant, particularly with the publication of his non-fiction novel in 1966, In Cold Blood, which catapulted the author into national celebrity but was also a major influence on other works (including Capote’s sometime-nemesis Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song).
After In Cold Blood, Capote spent decades teasing his next book—a tell-all gossip roman à clef titled Answered Prayers, which saw four chapters printed in Esquire, one of which featured a thinly-veiled and deeply unflattering character based on Tennessee Williams. As quotes and photos attest, the two men were friends and enemies over the years, although the Esquire piece caused a near-permanent break.
While fairly conventional in presentation, Truman & Tennessee serves up an engaging double-portrait that is both informative and entertaining, paying tribute to a pair of great American authors while also sharing amusing anecdotes (including one about the night Capote and Gore Vidal broke into Williams’ NYC apartment). Certain to appeal to literature buffs, this is recommended.