Superb acting is the chief selling point of "Proof," the generally interesting film version of the David Auburn play, adapted by Auburn and Rebecca Miller and directed by John ("Shakespeare in Love") Madden.
Anthony Hopkins plays an aging math genius whose career was cut tragically short when he fell victim to some form of mental illness in his late 20's. In the years since, he has been little more than a shell of his former self, reduced to shuffling around the house in his bathrobe while filling up endless notebooks - originally intended for brilliant mathematical proofs and formulas - with incoherent messages and doodling. Gwyneth Paltrow, in one of her most demanding roles, portrays Catherine, his equally bright younger daughter, who is firmly convinced that she is succumbing to the same mental illness that has claimed her father. Hope Davis is her older sister, Claire, who left their Chicago home to make a new life for herself in New York, but who, now, on the death of their father, has returned with the express purpose of bringing Catherine back home with her in order to "care" for her. The fourth main character is Hal (Jake Gyllenhaal), a young math professor who admires the work of the once-great Robert and who, as both a friend and potential romantic interest, really doesn't believe that Catherine is losing her mind at all.
In thematic terms, "Proof" makes us ponder where exactly that fine line is that separates sanity from insanity and how we can ever really know if and when we are crossing over it. As embodied by Paltrow, Catherine becomes a fascinatingly complex character, one whom we seem to be looking at as through a shattered mirror or fractured lens, never quite sure whether each image at any given moment is a true reflection of who she is or a mere illusion. Paltrow slides in and out of Catherine's many moods with such precision and conviction that she makes us aware of the scary and literally maddening nature of her character's predicament. As Claire, Hope Davis delivers a beautifully insightful performance as a woman of practicality and reason who apparently has no means of understanding or coping with the insanity of her father and the possible insanity of her sister. In the fairly small but pivotal role of the deceased genius, the always reliable Hopkins appears entirely in flashbacks and in scenes depicting Catherine's imagination. Likewise, Gyllenhaal brings an earnestness and intensity to the part of Hal, a character that could have fallen into callowness in less capable hands.
The filmmakers have certainly "opened up" the play to the point where it never feels theater-based or stage bound. The dialogue is literate and incisive, for the most part, although there are times when the movie comes across more as an intellectual exercise than a fully convincing drama about real people. That's where, lucky for us, the actors step in to perform their magic.
Anthony Hopkins plays an aging math genius whose career was cut tragically short when he fell victim to some form of mental illness in his late 20's. In the years since, he has been little more than a shell of his former self, reduced to shuffling around the house in his bathrobe while filling up endless notebooks - originally intended for brilliant mathematical proofs and formulas - with incoherent messages and doodling. Gwyneth Paltrow, in one of her most demanding roles, portrays Catherine, his equally bright younger daughter, who is firmly convinced that she is succumbing to the same mental illness that has claimed her father. Hope Davis is her older sister, Claire, who left their Chicago home to make a new life for herself in New York, but who, now, on the death of their father, has returned with the express purpose of bringing Catherine back home with her in order to "care" for her. The fourth main character is Hal (Jake Gyllenhaal), a young math professor who admires the work of the once-great Robert and who, as both a friend and potential romantic interest, really doesn't believe that Catherine is losing her mind at all.
In thematic terms, "Proof" makes us ponder where exactly that fine line is that separates sanity from insanity and how we can ever really know if and when we are crossing over it. As embodied by Paltrow, Catherine becomes a fascinatingly complex character, one whom we seem to be looking at as through a shattered mirror or fractured lens, never quite sure whether each image at any given moment is a true reflection of who she is or a mere illusion. Paltrow slides in and out of Catherine's many moods with such precision and conviction that she makes us aware of the scary and literally maddening nature of her character's predicament. As Claire, Hope Davis delivers a beautifully insightful performance as a woman of practicality and reason who apparently has no means of understanding or coping with the insanity of her father and the possible insanity of her sister. In the fairly small but pivotal role of the deceased genius, the always reliable Hopkins appears entirely in flashbacks and in scenes depicting Catherine's imagination. Likewise, Gyllenhaal brings an earnestness and intensity to the part of Hal, a character that could have fallen into callowness in less capable hands.
The filmmakers have certainly "opened up" the play to the point where it never feels theater-based or stage bound. The dialogue is literate and incisive, for the most part, although there are times when the movie comes across more as an intellectual exercise than a fully convincing drama about real people. That's where, lucky for us, the actors step in to perform their magic.