The movie biopic has become something of a dreaded, exhausted genre; often an exploitative, surface-level travesty of a familiar personality played with predictable beats and cosmetic transformation of a leading actor hungry for an Oscar nomination (remember Mr. Cooper’s Leonard Bernstein?). Most of these films either try to capture an entire life in two hours, or laser-focus on one specific, usually climactic, period of a subject’s life with little to offer in terms of context. With the new film Wildcat, one may fear that legendary Georgia-born writer, Flannery O’Connor would