A trick of timing has turned "Infamous" from a movie into a novelty item. It covers exactly the same material as last year's "Capote" and was held back for the memories of that film to fade -- but they probably haven't. Both tell the story of the diminutive gay uber-sophisticate writer who ventured to Holcomb, Kan., in 1959 to chronicle the murder, investigation, trial and execution that became the book "In Cold Blood."

Though it's not as good as the brilliant "Capote," it's nevertheless a riveting, well-made picture for the few of you who still remember those quaint, antiquarian objects called "books" and recall the vanished age when they were really important.

You'll notice a different center. For the first movie, Philip Seymour Hoffman won an Oscar as Capote. It was a great trick of acting, as a larger man pretended to be a small man, a hearty-voiced man pretended to have a small, warbly voice, and a big strider minced as if he were in heels.

"Infamous" doesn't have the sense of trick at its heart; British actor Toby Jones has a spooky resemblance to the fey blond elf that was Capote in the early '60s. So there's a sense of utter conviction, almost repose, at the beginning; there's nothing to come to terms with, no adjustments to make.

The deeper difference between the two is that while "Capote" was a parable of ambition, "Infamous" is a parable of love. Derived from George Plimpton's portrait of Capote via interviews with friends (a structure it uses at times, too), it features Capote's deepening relationship with the killer Perry Smith as the events hurtle to their conclusion. Where "Capote" suggested that guilt caused the little genius to dry up, "Infamous" suggests it was grief.

-- Stephen Hunter (Oct. 12, 2006)

Contains harsh language and violence.