A snore. Duplicity can't choose effectively between comedy and thrills. The central plot has holes deep enough to drive a bulldozer through ("We'll get in place and then set up offshore accounts or whatever we need to do." Huh?) And if Owen/Roberts have "chemistry," I fear for science.
In an odd way, Milk diminishes the gay rights movement by failing to make the lead characters knowable and compelling. We are left with near-caricatures of men with lispy voices, a prediliction for violent sex, multiple partners, prostitution and no apparent day jobs. Van Sant falls into the cliche by not giving us fully sculpted characters with whom we can identify. It's a risk of the docudrama genre, especially when a film relies on actual footage and flashbacks to tell a story. We get a good biopic, but not a great drama.