Acting masterclass courtesy Streep August: Osage County

Time for some truth telling — I adore Meryl Streep and everything she does. Like Cameron on Modern Family says, “Meryl Streep could play Batman. She’s perfection.” So even though this is a long and verbose family drama based on a Pulitzer Prize winning play (by Tracy Letts), I confess I couldn’t get over how incredibly Streep was playing the drug-addicted headstrong matriarch Violet whose husband Beverly (Sam Shephard) goes missing and is later found dead, bringing their estranged family back home over one awkward funeral.

If the award winning cast didn’t grab your attention, I’ll spell it out here for you — the film is a 120 minute masterclass in acting. Julia Roberts as Barbara, Violet’s equally strong and stubborn daughter whose personal failures seem to be turning her into a splitting image of her cruel mother, gives the performance of her lifetime. The other daughters played by Julianne Nicholson (Ivy) and Juliette Lewis (Karen) similarly breathe life into their characters, their insecurities and vulnerabilities laid bare. Benedict Cumberbatch gives a rather nuanced performance as the mellow, shy and under-confident cousin, Little Charlie, quite unlike his role in Sherlock.

The centrepiece of the film — the nearly 20 minute-long scene at the dining table is where Violet gives free reign to her inner demons in what she calls a “truth- telling” session— taking particular delight in humiliating her daughters and exposing their secrets. Skeletons crawl out of the closet and one by one, everyone leaves their unbearably hot Oklahoma home, abandoning all hope of ever recovering from what their mother did to them.

Flawed and terribly dialogue driven, August: Osage County is not without fault. Too many things tend to happen in quick succession, the chaos sometimes coming across as planned and contrived. And yet, the sheer volume of brilliant act- ing one is exposed to during these sequences is in itself quite a treat to watch. Roberts seems to be becoming just as dependable as Streep, letting her tired, aged, and no make-up face tap into the depths of her anger and sadness, far, far away from the Miss goody two shoes kind of roles she tends to play. The show stealer however is Streep — her toxic, cancer ridden mouth literally spewing out venom towards her family with such ferocity and spite that it is often hard to not hate her. I’d be shocked if she didn’t win this year’s and her fourth Academy Award (for Best Actress). After all, the woman deserves all the glory she can get.