J
Edgar Cert 15
Directed by Clint
Eastwood, written by Dustin Lance Black. With Leonardo DiCaprio as J Edgar Hoover, Judi Dench as Annie
Hoover, Naomi Watts as Helen Gandy and Armie Hammer as Clyde Tolson
Clint Eastwood’s biopic is
essentially an attempt
to expose the personal world of an intensely private public figure but it fails
to penetrate far, revealing only a veneer of paranoia, racial prejudice and intolerance.
His twilight foray into directing has shown an attraction to the gritty and candid side of life but a focus on the conjecture surrounding Hoover’s relationship with his deputy Clyde Tolson (Hammer) feels vague and incomplete. While we are in no doubt of Tolson’s feelings, we are left wondering whether they are reciprocated in any real emotional way.
His twilight foray into directing has shown an attraction to the gritty and candid side of life but a focus on the conjecture surrounding Hoover’s relationship with his deputy Clyde Tolson (Hammer) feels vague and incomplete. While we are in no doubt of Tolson’s feelings, we are left wondering whether they are reciprocated in any real emotional way.
DiCaprio is
competent in his role but not dazzling, perhaps explaining the Oscar snub. His
portrayal of a young Edgar is more vivid; joy at an ill-fated date with secretary
Helen Gandy (Watts) at a reference library and disgust at the Bolshevist
uprisings in the early 20th Century show the obsessive
organisational skills and extreme moral compass which would drive the creation
of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Hoover is portrayed as a socially awkward and
narcissistic mummy’s boy, and although centralising a US fingerprint database and
modernising evidence gathering procedure further the cause of his beloved Bureau,
his relentless pursuit of illicit information on his enemies
do not.
The script by Dustin Lance Black is largely to blame
for such wooden characterization, a real let down after his academy
award-winning work for Milk. While the flash back scenes of Hoover as an old
man do add some perspective, they confuse the timeline and leave the plot disjointed. This
is reflected in Eastwood’s soundtrack, at times melancholic and bittersweet, at
others jarring and discordant.
The makeup is nothing short of absurd as the main
characters slowly morph into a beige, liver-spotted, and previously unknown species of the genus testudines. The pained love scenes between Hoover and Tolson which were at points
touching, now verge on comedic and the actors seem restricted by the thick layers
of prosthetics.
There are some positives, Judi Dench gives as
robust a performance as ever as Edgar’s controlling and strong-willed mother, whom in many ways seems the catalyst for his resolute attempts to eradicate
corruption and vice.
Armie Hammer is similarly astute in his role as Hoover's dashing young muse at times even extracting a laugh from the dreary law-man. And the plotline of the infamous kidnap of Charles Lindberg’s 20 month old son in the 1930s is also fast-paced and relevant to the development of the bureau.
Armie Hammer is similarly astute in his role as Hoover's dashing young muse at times even extracting a laugh from the dreary law-man. And the plotline of the infamous kidnap of Charles Lindberg’s 20 month old son in the 1930s is also fast-paced and relevant to the development of the bureau.
But, it must be asked why the acclaimed director chose to tell this version of a story that has been
told before and one cannot help but feel it is a missed opportunity. At a time when racial prejudice,
covert surveillance and social unrest are as prominent as ever, this could have
provided an insightful historical commentary on the human element of governance and the dangers of
unbridled authority. It doesn't.
