J. Edgar
The outstanding makeup might be the best part about J. Edgar. Most of the rest of it might just be made up.
That’s because for someone with so much fame and political power, the life of longtime FBI director J. Edgar Hoover has always been shrouded in secrecy, with rumors supplanting facts when it comes to his enigmatic private affairs.
This intimate biopic from director Clint Eastwood and Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black (Milk), starring Leonardo DiCaprio, doesn’t provide answers to all of the questions about one of the most fascinating government figures of the 20th century. Yet it offers some entertaining speculation that at least proves insightful.
Hoover was the first director of the FBI and served in that capacity for a remarkable 48 years, under eight presidents, until his death in 1972. His career was marked by scandal and controversy, but his ruthless methods were intimidating to the extent that no one, even presidents, dared question his loyalty or ability.
Meanwhile, his private life drew further scrutiny amid accusations that he was a cross-dresser and took a co-worker as his gay lover. His closest staff, including secretary Helen Gandy (Naomi Watts), went to great lengths to protect his private files and any potentially damaging information from being leaked.
The film features a terrific performance by DiCaprio, portraying Hoover at ages ranging from 24 to 77, in various degrees of facial and body makeup. He gives the subject a convincing mix of bureaucratic strength and behind-the-scenes vulnerability.
J. Edgar is a fairly straightforward account of Hoover’s workaholic career that shifts between his younger and final days in office, focusing on the bureau’s battles with gangsters during the 1930s as well as Hoover’s ongoing dedication to eradicating communists and radicals.
Black’s script, however, seems to gloss over compelling aspects of Hoover’s professional life in favor of an almost obsessively sympathetic approach to his closeted gay affair with longtime deputy FBI director Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), and his almost childlike relationship with his disapproving mother (Judi Dench).
In Eastwood’s capable hands, however, the film is slick and polished, with a meticulous re-creation of period details that make it much more than a posthumous tabloid expose.
The film hits mostly expected highlights and doesn’t contain many surprises for those familiar with its subject, but it’s an intriguing and ambitious historical account that feels both thoughtful and even-handed.
Rated R, 137 minutes.