J. EDGAR

What makes matters worse is that the ingredients are all there. For all its shortcomings, Black’s screenplay is fairly solid, and in the hands of a more adventurous director, could have offered some exciting possibilities. There are even moments of wit and humour evident in the writing that Eastwood either ignores or fails to even notice. In some respects, there are two very different generations of storytellers at work between the director and screenwriter, and the balance is never reconciled.

The performances across the board are also very good, especially from DiCaprio, who approaches Hoover with the same gravitas and intelligence he has so wonderfully demonstrated in recent years. Naomi Watts is great, as is Judi Dench as his harridan mother Anna Marie Hoover. Armie Hammer adds some much-needed light as a younger Tolson, but his work as the older man is, unfortunately, not as effective, not helped by the shoddy old age make-up he is made to wear.

In some respects, ‘J. Edgar’ suffers from almost no clarity in its intentions. For such a controversial figure, there is very little criticism or questioning of his actions, but not enough of a positive image to make him a hero. Eastwood seems unclear in what he wants to say by telling this story, and there is definitely a possible comment somewhere in Black’s screenplay. The closest Eastwood seems to get to an intention is painting the film as a romance between Hoover and Tolson, but his directorial hand is too clumsy to render the moments of intimacy effective, relying on the surprising chemistry between DiCaprio and Hammer. Even more damaging is his truly appalling score, rendering some moments more akin to ‘Days of Our Lives’ than serious historical drama.

In the end, all that can be said about ‘J. Edgar’ is that it is a terribly missed opportunity. As the credits roll, nothing concrete or even important has been said about Hoover, and what we have is a dull, lifeless and stolid representation of a life that should be more interesting than what has been presented. There are a few moments of light (the details of one of Hoover’s most famous cases, the kidnapping of Charles Lindbergh's baby son, are enough to make an arresting film in themselves), and the performance of DiCaprio is worth commending - but once again, Clint Eastwood has been handed a fascinating piece of source material and done very little with it. Hopefully one day, someone will make a film deserving of such an immense and fascinating man. He certainly isn’t deserving of one as dull as this.