People don’t like to watch movies with me. It’s not because I have bad taste in movies or because I smell really bad. It’s because I ask too many questions. I can’t help it. I just want to know what’s going on, to find the truth, get answers. Therefore, it is a miracle that I liked Doubt, a movie based on the Pulitzer-winning play of the same name, in which no answers are ever provided — not at the beginning, not in the middle, and not even at the end.

What’s the point of a movie that doesn’t give answers? In the end, at least, I like to know who’s good, who’s bad, and who’s just ugly. But Doubt isn’t about finding answers. In fact, it’s about just the opposite. Yup, you guessed it — it’s about having doubt.

“Every one one of us is hurtling towards death,”theater director Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman) rapturously announces to a room full of hushed actors sitting with blank stares and crossed arms, beginning the grand experimental project that will become, in more ways than one, his life’s work. It’s as close to a punchline as we get in Charlie Kauffman’s directorial debut, Synecdoche, New York.