The audience certainly won’t. The ambiguities of “Alias Grace” are among its greatest strengths, and they’re handled with remarkable finesse by director Mary Harron (“ American Psycho ”) and her top-flight cast. Gadon is given the highest bar to clear by far, and does so nimbly. Each time a new perspective is offered on a given scene—for example, the murder of Nancy Cartwright ( Anna Paquin ) as told by the man who was condemned as her conspirator (Kerr Logan) as opposed to the version Grace gave in her initial confession—we see a different Grace, informed by what those listening or observing might want to see or hear. Gadon’s Grace is both inscrutable and guileless, vulnerable and frightening, each face sliding neatly into place when the story calls for it, and vanishing as soon as she’s back in her cell, alone with her thoughts. You’re somehow made to feel an intimacy with this woman even as you know you’re being kept at a distance, and the result is an internalized performance that’s focused on keeping the truth at bay. Grace doesn’t have much use for the truth. She knows the narrative doesn’t belong to her, anyway, and somehow, she uses that to her advantage.