Two Stars
Rated R/140 Minutes
J. Edgar, Clint Eastwood’s latest film as a director, is one of his least interesting films, an unmemorable movie about a most eventful individual. Eastwood is the John Huston of my generation: like Huston, his greatest films are untouchable classics. His range as an actor has always been limited but, in the right role, he’s sensationally good and even his lesser films demonstrate a filmmaker who fearlessly tries anything and boasts a filmography that’s both eclectic and astonishingly versatile.
I’ve been watching Eastwood’s movies my whole life, have an autographed Firefox poster and was one of the few who admired his uneven but impressive Hereafter last year. Yet, even Eastwood’s recent Changeling, set during the same era, is a far more gripping film than his latest effort.
Leonardo DiCaprio stars as J. Edgar Hoover, portrayed as a socially awkward mamma’s boy who climbs the ranks at the FBI to Director by maintaining a spotless record, pulling off some newsworthy feats and advancing criminal investigation techniques, all the while generally annoying everyone he meets. The film’s most amusing scene is Hoover’s failed attempt to court a secretary (Naomi Watts) who, instead, becomes his assistant and confidant for life.
Out of the public eye is Hoover’s attraction to an obviously interested colleague (Armie Hammer), whereupon Hoover struggles to keep the relationship platonic. Being raised by an angrily homophobic mother (Judi Dench), Hoover’s sexual desires torture him during his life and career.
This extensive bio has lots to admire but never fully connects. So overstuffed with flash backs and flashbacks within flashbacks, it never develops its own rhythm. DiCaprio’s performance gets better as the film progresses but it’s still an uphill climb: his heavy-handed narration with a just-shy of Dr. Evil voice, is a hindrance. His old age make-up is as impressive as everyone else’s, but he’s best playing the role as a younger man, as the older Hoover looks uncannily like Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Watts does what she can with the long suffering secretary role and she’s the strongest in the cast when covered in aging make-up, never sounding like a young person covered in latex.
Lots of rich historical incidents pop up, like the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby, the introduction of advanced investigative sciences (like using fingerprints to solve crimes), and the rise of President Richard Nixon (played by an actor who looks nothing at all like Tricky Dick). Eastwood’s production team has nailed the look of the varying time periods but the film lacks any of the directorial fire that elevated the similar Hoffa, Nixon or Public Enemies.
The big question of how far Eastwood was willing to go in portraying Hoover’s rumored closeted homosexuality can be summed up in two words: just barely. DiCaprio even puts on a dress in one scene but the issue is shied away from and feels more like a narrative afterthought. The relationship between Hoover and his equally closeted suitor is an intriguing display of concealed desire but comes across as one-note. The scenes that attempt to tackle Hoover’s secret desires are half baked and feel out of place in such a talky, bland movie.
Eastwood’s piano-driven music score is pretty but out of place: the simple, quiet main theme was likely meant to illustrate Hoover’s isolated demeanor, but the music only makes the 140-minute running time more sleep inducing than exhilarating. DiCaprio is typically intense and works hard to pull off arguably the most challenging role of his career but too often, you can spot the young man underneath the make-up.
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