J. Edgar

While I’m sure a great film could be made about the creation of the FBI, this heavy-handed biopic about its founder is not that film. Clint Eastwood’s usual glacial pacing does nothing to liven up the already tiresome genre that is the biopic. Dustin Lance Black (Oscar-winning writer of 2008’s Milk) serves up another ponderous and scattered screenplay that offers very little insight into J. Edgar Hoover, the man. Instead, it speculates and teases out the rumors surrounding his homosexuality, his mother's issues, and his personal paranoia. We never get a sense of this man, nor why he was so important, or even what his legacy is.

Leo DiCaprio, who has been surprisingly good at playing other real-life characters (in films like The Aviator, Blood Diamond, and Catch Me If You Can), is totally wrong for this part--old-age make-up does not make him credible as J. Edgar. This is the type of movie that would have been much better if multiple actors had played the role, but Hollywood doesn't do that anymore, since the actors can’t win awards that way--not that this movie is gonna win any awards anyway. I have always said that I love all of Clint Eastwood’s films--the great, the weak, and the silly—but I guess I can’t say that anymore. J Edgar is a far cry from his flawed but intriguing biopic of Charlie Parker, Bird; this is just a really bad movie.