How could I possibly have imagined that in this Clint Eastwood film about J Edgar Hoover the driving force is the love Story between Edgar and his life long assistant. That's the only aspect of this sad tale that has any kind of human features. Leonardo Di Caprio who became a hero of mine after "This Boy's Life" and "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" has shown that it's not enough to work with some of the best living directors but training, classical training is vital in the professional life of an actor. His performance here, for the most part is merely that, a performance. Reciting a laundry list of ex-positional lines is not the shortest cut to our understanding and/or feelings. Damn shame if you ask me. To push this story to the verge of camp is Judi Dench's mother. Somewhere between the mothers in "Psycho" and "Notorious" but not nearly as entertaining. Did Robert Kennedy got the news of his brother's assassination through a call from Hoover? Really? Even if it's true I don't believe it. And that goes for the entire pitiful tale.
Review of J. Edgar
