The JohnBleasdale Universe
  • Home
  • LynchBLOG
  • BondBlog
  • Stanley KuBlog
  • SpielBlog
  • Blog
  • Film Writing
    • Festivals
    • Films reviewed (a-z)
  • Fiction
    • Bracken
    • Poetry
  • Contact
    • Biography

J. Edgar

20/2/2012

0 Comments

 
Clint Eastwood has been one of the most successful American film directors of the last forty years. Somehow he morphed from the fascist cop of the seventies through his ridiculous eighties japes with apes to a director of genuine subtlety and vision, redefining his own image and genres in the process with an idiosyncratic eye. His recent Superbowl advert shows clearly how he can be all things to all people; he's the right winger left wingers love. Patriotic undoubtedly but  his patriotism is the platform from which to launch criticism rather than a hole to hide in. And yet the his idiosyncrasies mean that he is capable of truly baffling missteps: Bridges of Madison County, Pink Cadillac, and Hereafter. J. Edgar is similarly a misfire. 

This is American history seen through one very specific lens that of the FBI's most famous figure, J. Edgar Hoover. Rather than launching a vitriolic attack of Hoover, Eastwood portrays him as a flawed maverick, a little like the director, John Wilson, at the centre of White Hunter Black Heart. This is a man who is forceful in his self-delusion but also charismatic and creative. He gets things done. The morality of what he does is of course open to question, but Eastwood stays up close to DiCaprio's portrait so that we are only offered a divergent opinion towards the end of the film by which time the point is almost moot. Dramatically, this means the film is very much office bound, and as Hoover gets older the narrative and performances become egg bound. This wouldn't be quite such a problem but for some terrifyingly bad make up on Armie Hammer's Clyde, who makes things worse with some shaky old man acting.  

When we find out that our J. Edgar was not always the most reliable of narrators, it feels more like a quibble than a sin, a hint of vainglory rather than a genuinely troubling need to reassess all we've learned so far. And his suspicion of Nixon feels like an ill-judged pitch at vindication along the lines of 'worse was to come'.     
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    RSS Feed

    Picture

    Author

    John Bleasdale is a writer. His work has appeared in The Guardian, The Independent, Il Manifesto, as well as CineVue.Com and theStudioExec.com. He has also written a number of plays, screenplays and novels.

    Archives

    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    June 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    January 2016
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    January 2014
    June 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • LynchBLOG
  • BondBlog
  • Stanley KuBlog
  • SpielBlog
  • Blog
  • Film Writing
    • Festivals
    • Films reviewed (a-z)
  • Fiction
    • Bracken
    • Poetry
  • Contact
    • Biography
Follow this blog