Category Archives: Film

Film4 Launches Interactive Experience for Dreams of a Life

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Picture by Lottie Davies.

Film4 has commissioned a unique and innovative multiplatform experience to support the release of Carol Morley’s feature film Dreams of a Life.

Dreams of a Life, which is co-produced and co-financed by Film4, movingly pieces together the true story of 38-year-old Joyce Vincent, whose skeleton was discovered in her bedsit three years after she had died. The accompanying digital commission, www.dreamsofyourlife.com, has been developed by interactive agency Hide&Seek, as a thought-provoking and immersive experience which engages users in the themes explored by the film.

Award-winning writer A.L. Kennedy has crafted the absorbing and sometimes unnerving narrative, which prompts responses to questions on society, friendship, love and loneliness. This is played against the backdrop of beautiful and haunting time-lapse imagery, created by photographer Lottie Davies.

The launch of www.dreamsofyourlife.com will also be supported by a mobile touring installation, allowing audiences to interact with the experience on iPads at selected venues in the cities where the film is playing.

www.dreamsofyourlife.com, commissioned by Hilary Perkins, Channel 4’s Multiplatform Commissioning Editor for Drama and Film, launches on 1st December 2011. Dreams of a Life is released in selected cinemas on 16th December.

The Film

Dreams of a Life, directed by Carol Morley

Released in cinemas on 16th December by Dogwoof

Nobody noticed when 38-year-old Joyce Vincent died in her bedsit above a shopping mall in North London in 2003. When her skeleton was discovered three years later, her heating and her television were still on. Newspaper reports offered few details of Joyce’s life – not even a photograph. Who was Joyce Vincent? And how could this happen to someone in our day and age – the so-called age of communication? Dreams of a Life is Carol Morley’s quest to discover who Joyce was and how she came to be so forgotten.

Discover the Touring Installation from 12th December (more venues tbc):

Manchester Cornerhouse; Sheffield Showroom; Stratford Picturehouse

Hugo {Film Review}

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Martin Scorsese doesn’t shy away on his love and passion for film history and filmmaking itself. He makes subtle homages to silent era films through-out his films (especially the shot of Joe Pesci shooting a gun at the camera in the end of GoodFellas is referencing to The Great Train Robbery (1903). So viewing this film, it doesn’t come as a surprise why Scorsese wanted to make this film. It is based on a children’s book The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick.

It tells of an orphan named Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) who lives in a train station in Paris in 1930s, he encounters George Méliès (Ben Kingsley) at a toy shop. Whilst living in the train station, Hugo is busy fixing an automaton. A mechanical man that was found by his father (Jude Law), determined to get it fixed since his father died from a fire at the museum where he worked. Constantly avoiding the station’s inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), he also meets George’s goddaughter, Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz). Hugo notices a heart shaped key on Isabelle’s necklace, being a vital piece of the puzzle on fixing the automaton.

The story is a fantastical adventure and it is as exciting and magical as Pixar would make it if this was an animated film. The production design by Dante Ferreti (previous credits; Interview With The Vampire, Gangs of New York and The Aviator) continues to make some wonderful sets, especially the clock tower that Hugo often visits from time to time. It all feels authentic but also keeping with the fantasy story. Robert Richardson’s cinematography is gorgeous, making the setting of Paris as bright and glorious (which helps with the 3D). The writing from John Logan (Gladiator, The Aviator and Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street) is very well written, brilliant direction from Scorsese on starting the film with little to no dialogue. There was no need of an opening narration, a case and point on the meaning ‘show don’t tell’. The leading child actor, Butterfield, does hold the film on his own and makes a convincing and likable hero (“we’ll get into trouble” says Isabelle as Hugo pick locks a door “that’s how you know it’s an adventure!”) Moretz has already established from Kick-Ass how talented of an actress she already is and does the English accent spot-on! Sacha Baron Cohen (well-known as Ali G, Borat and Bruno in The Ali G Show) plays the Inspector as a comical villain and does comedy very well as he doesn’t play the character with any French stereotypical traits. His only purpose to uphold the law and capture any orphans in the station (being just as heartless as any mechanical object) but slowly showing feelings for the Lisette (Emily Mortimer)Ben Kingsley as the famous George Méliès makes one of his best performances. You feel for his sadness, that time can be a gift but also a curse. A magician on-stage and behind the camera, where he tells a young boy that this is where dreams get made! Believing there is no such thing as a happy ending. Though Hugo, as he fixes his automaton, attempts to fix George’s life. Which the film asks a question; what is our purpose in life? What happens when we’re made redundant? That’s a question Hugo constantly wants to find out and believing the automaton is the key to the memory of his father.

The thing that amazes me from this film is Scorsese’s eye on historical accuracy, not just from the setting or costumes but of film history itself. Featuring classic silent films; L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat/The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station and La Sortie des usines Lumière à Lyon/Workers Leaving The Lumière Factory in Lyon by Lumière brothers (who invented the cinematograph). Seeing a reconstruction of George Méliès’ films being made honestly brought a tear to my eye, it really is a film lover’s dream. This, without a doubt, will be used as a case-study for Film Studies courses in the future.

Overall; a phenomenal piece of filmmaking! Scorsese really does delve into the fantasy of the story but also celebrating film itself. As George Méliès says at the end of the film; “let us all dream!” You have certainly delivered a wonderful dream, Mr. Scorsese!

5 out of 5!

The Ides of March Film Review

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With the re-election Barack Obama next year looking increasingly unlikely, George Clooney’s fourth film as a director feels more like a bitter lament for the political hope of 2008 than a standard thriller, a noble intention of which it just falls short. It is based on a play named Farragut North by Beau Williamson that was produced at the same time as Obama’s election drive. Not one for hiding his liberal credentials, you could be forgiven for expecting that Clooney would airbrush the portrait of Democratic candidates as crusading do-gooders. Yet here, while there is focus on many topical issues blighting American society today, it is viewed through disillusioned and almost sad eyes.

Clooney appears in front of camera as well as behind it as Mike Morris, a charismatic Pennsylvanian senator and contender for the Democratic presidential nomination in a fictitious U.S. election. He is neck and neck with his party rival and with the Republicans lacking a strong contender the White House is within striking distance for both men. Fighting in Morris’ corner is his chief aide Paul Zara (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and junior press secretary Stephen Myers (Ryan Gosling). Meyers is a young idealist who is truly inspired by Morris’s policies and determined to see him in the Oval office. Zara is the older and more jaded of the two men, the experience to Meyers’ innocence, yet together their plans of attack have Morris on a seemingly unstoppable course.

Meyers’ is then approached by Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti), Zara’s opposite in the enemy camp who is determined to have Meyers work for him and promises to reveal the secrets behind Morris’ glowing reputation. What then follows is a descent into moral confusion, corruption and betrayal as Meyers’ attempts to keep his head above water and survive in a world of cut throat political ambition.

From its opening dissection of the inner workings of a televised candidate debate, it is clear the The Ides Of March is concerned with what lies underneath the tarp of 21st century politics. If Senator Morris is the general of an army then Meyers and his colleagues are the soldiers down in the dirt fighting hand to hand for victory. Clooney confidently cuts back and forth between debates and television interviews with scenes of aides and interns working tirelessly away behind the scenes with laptops, cell phones and cups of coffee rarely out of reach. In certain scenes he places television sets within the frame of the more intimate moments of drama creating a seemingly inescapable world where everyone’s careers (i.e. lives) are out on the line. It’s very well made indeed with Clooney keeping most of the showy direction to a minimum with one or two notable yet well done exceptions. The merciless vibrating of a mobile phone with all other sound drowned out is a particularly effective moment.

It would also appear as though Clooney’s experience as an actor has left him with the strong ability to get strong performances from his ensemble. Along with Drive and to a lesser extent Crazy, Stupid, Love, Ryan Gosling deserves firm establishment as an A-Lister star. Blessed with astonishingly handsome looks, Gosling delivers on the idea of a youthful idealist steadily crushed under the pressure of back-stabbing and corruption. Meyers is a man desperate to do right for the cause he believes in yet his selfless and single minded vision ultimately blinds him and he becomes everything he has detested in the older characters at the stories outset. It’s an old idea that Gosling manages to make alive through his sheer charisma and penetrating gaze summed up perfectly in the films elegant and haunting final shot. On the seasoned front, Hoffman and Giamatti get to relish in weighty, meaty dialogue set pieces that tie in with the movies theatrical background and could be dismissed as sheer awards season bait were they not so well done. Hoffman hints at years of pent up paranoia and resentment in a powerful monologue about his need for loyalty where Giamatti rallies against the Democratic lack of ruthlessness on the playing field (‘We need to get down in the mud with the donkeys!’) It’s a scene that speaks for the whole movie, with the Republicans given no time on screen and only alluded to it is left to the one side to fight each other and it is given riveting conviction by two character actors at the top of their game.

Unfortunately it is Clooney’s handling of another key character that is the films major downfall. With masculinity running rife through the major plot lines, Evan Rachel Wood has to work very hard to make her character of a confident yet out of her depth intern a voice to be heard. She does a good job with what she’s given; her early scenes with Gosling have an undeniably sexy and arresting charge to them. Yet she is then underhanded by a plot revelation feels so trite and forced that it threatens to capsize the proceedings. Clooney clearly needs a shattering plot device to mark Meyers’ turning point yet it is so out of place and stands out that he feels terribly fumbled. I can’t possibly spoil it yet it’s impossible to miss and reduces Wood to a bland and unconvincing cipher rather than a rounded out character.
Ultimately The Ides Of March feels as though it aspires to something revelatory and worthy yet it can’t help but fall back onto some very typical thriller tropes that hold it back from something more special. It’s a shame really as Clooney elicits some really cracking performances and attempts to take a far more scathing and world weary view of the American political spectrum. If you’re looking for something more substantial then I strongly recommend you revisit Clooney’s Good Night and Good Luck, still his best film by far. This is still fine work and worth watching but you can’t escape the feeling of close but no cigar.

We Need To Talk About Kevin Review

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Nearly a decade after her astonishingly assured debut Ratcatcher and its enigmatic follow-up Morvan Caller, acclaimed British filmmaker Lynne Ramsey has made a striking return to screens with an adaptation of the controversial 2003 bestseller by Lionel Shriver. It comes after a failed attempt by Ramsey to bring another bestseller, The Lovely Bones, to the big screen. However futile that effort may have been Ramsey need not worry for where Peter Jackson’s adaptation of that story was met with a lukewarm reception, We Need To Talk About Kevin was regarded as one of the highlights of this year’s Cannes Film Festival and is being poised for awards glory with very good reason indeed.

The ever watchable Tilda Swinton plays the central character of Eva, a former travel writer introduced to us crowd surfing along at Valencia’s La Tomatina festival. Her face drenched in red and euphoria she lies with her arms outstretched in a Christ like pose, a grimly ironic foreboding of the hardships she will come to endure. We next meet Eva confronted by another incarnation of red; paint splattered across her crummy bungalow by a vengeful community who also glare at her in the street, openly threaten her and at one point physically assault her. It is clear that they hold her responsible for a heinous crime committed by her teenage son Kevin (Ezra Miller). He is only a child so the parent must surely be responsible right? Wallowing in self guilt, Eva remembers back to her relationship with husband to be Franklin (John C. Reilly), the birth of Kevin and their seemingly unavoidable resentment of one another as she wrestles with the difficult question: Was Kevin’s crime an act of nature or nurture?
Taking a hammer to Shriver’s literary device of Eva’s letters to an estranged Franklin, Ramsey and fellow screenwriter Rory Kinnear offer up a fractured progression of Eva’s downfall. She initially appears every bit the victim of a thoroughly unpleasant child with a thousand yard stare that would unnerve Damien. Kevin seems to take an instant resentment to his mother, refusing to communicate with her and rebuking her attempts at motherly love at each turn. Yet as the blanks are steadily filled in Eva’s saintly nature quickly dissolves. She clearly resents Kevin for the end of her outgoing life and directs her anger at him in increasingly irresponsible ways from cruel baby talk (‘Mommy was happy before you came along!’) to an unforgivable loss of temper resulting in injury.

Ramsay observes the family tug of war with increasingly unnerving close ups, most noticeably of her actors’ faces and minuet details of Eva’s ever increasing sense of social entrapment. Repeated shots of characters eating take on a strange and otherworldly effect as though we’re prying into an intensely private act. The colour red becomes increasingly clear in the frame as events progress, representing both Kevin’s impending crime and Eva’s guilt. At one point there is an incredibly blunt shot of her washing blood from a sink with her bare hands. Such symbolism could be too unsubtle for its own good where it not so tremendously uncomfortable and frightening, a feeling accentuated by Jonny Greenwood’s score whose fractured creeping tones accompanied last decade’s masterpiece There Will Be Blood. Nearly every scene is laced with a fascinating combination of familiarity and utter dread. Working closely with cinematographer Seamus McGarvey, Ramsey isolates Eva within the frame of domestic docility making her world appear ever more large and alone, building surely but steadily to a shattering climax.

Swinton is magnificent as Eva pulling off a delicate tightrope act of making us sympathetic towards Eva whilst still boldly acknowledging her shortcomings as a mother. She commands with the simplest of expressions including one devastating moment when on the brink of emotional recovery she is rebuffed by a drunken work colleague. Yet despite all of the indignity Eva must endure, Swinton never lets the emotional dam break. It could have been easy to have the big break down, to cry out all the guilt and pent up feeling yet Swinton refuses to play it that way making the scenario all the more believable and dramatic particularly with her scenes opposite John C. Reilly. Still best known for some admirable yet unremarkable comedy films, Reilly continues to establish himself as one of America’s finest character actors bringing a haunting tragedy to what could have been a bland stock role of the clueless husband. For all of Swinton and Reilly’s gravitas through, the film belongs to Ezra Miller as the teenage Kevin. Disconcertingly charming and handsome yet cold and innocent, Miller perfectly sells the idea of American youth gone horribly wrong yet refuses to pinpoint the exact cause of Kevin’s horrific actions. It’s a terrific play on both part of the performers and filmmakers.

Ultimately We Need To Talk About Kevin confronts issues that will be challenging for mainstream audiences and touches on the frightening idea of things that go unsaid between parents and children. It’s reflection of a post Columbine era America never feels forced or phony despite the incredible stylistic flourishes and symbolism. It’s certainly not an easy watch but it’s near impossible to ignore or overlook. Hopefully come the awards season, people will still be talking about Kevin.

MELANCHOLIA {Film Review}

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MELANCHOLIA

Trust the tale and the not the teller goes the old saying,and with good purpose too. While it may be easy to dismiss Melancholia in light of Danish enfant terrible director Lars Von Trier’s bafflingly out of taste ‘joke’ at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, those who do, would be doing a disservice to one of the most striking and elegant films of the year. A haunting and strange sci-fi tale of sisters emotionally disintegrating, bitter family ties, depression, and the end of the world as we know it; it’s an engrossing and beautiful work that stands as perhaps one of Von Trier’s best. The plot seems simple from afar; Justine (Kirsten Dunst), a young and successful career woman, has just been married to an incredibly sweet and handsome young man named Michael (Alexander Skarsgard). Their reception is hosted at a remote castle being paid for by her sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her husband John (Kiefer Sutherland) where various members of her family and work colleagues mingle together. Though she seems to have everything one could want, Justine rapidly sinks into a deep depression and grows distant from her new husband and sister. Matters are not helped as her separated mother and father (Charlotte Rampling and John Hurt) tear open old wounds at the reception dinner and humiliate both their daughters. There’s also Justine’s astonishingly cruel and greedy employer (Stellan Skarsgard) who seems intent on committing her for a sales pitch before she’s even cut her wedding cake. Can this agonizingly uncomfortable social setting be the reason for Justine’s intense depression? Or could it be the mysterious rogue planet Melancholia which is passing close by to Earth and may just collide with it?

From the beginning Von Trier makes no allusion as to the outcome of the story as he opens with an astonishingly stylised prologue of Melancholia colliding into the Earth, interspersed with surreal imagery of the main characters and a Wagner score playing at deafening levels. Playing out in graceful slow motion, the images in this sequence resemble hauntingly beautiful classical artwork and seem a rapid departure from Von Trier’s usual style. He quickly reverts to this in the two distinct narrative acts of the film. Part one follows Justine as she arrives late at the wedding and bears witness to the social car crash that occurs. Von Trier made his mark in the mid nineties with the Dogma 95 movement, where he and several fellow filmmakers decided to shoot with nothing but what was provided within the environment of the shooting. No formalism and no gloss. Here he seems to bend his rules to a degree, employing a roving hand held camera that snatches out at specific incidents of lines of dialogue yet manipulates the appearance of the frame with beautiful downcast lighting that drenches the proceedings with an ominous dread that harks back to the opening scene. It marks a meeting of styles that Von Trier has been calling to in recent years the most notable examples including Dancer In The Dark and Antichrist, where he combines his realistic aesthetic with a tremendously stylised and fabricated one. Some may accuse him of betraying his former principles yet there is an astonishing visual rush of the first act that reveals Von Trier’s talent at visual style and composition.

The second act is far more intimate character piece, focusing on Claire as she cares for a near catatonic Justine and frets over Melancholia’s passing by. It’s in this section that we are reminded of Von Trier’s incredible direction of actresses. The male contingent gets its shout from Kiefer Sutherland who plays the foolish rationality of Claire’s husband well; if anything it’s disconcerting to see him so subtle after eight years of beating people senseless in 24. Yet it truly is Dunst and Gainsborg’s film to steer and they do so brilliantly. Dunst in particular shines in a way that she has not yet had to do in her career, outside of her work with Sofia Coppola. She imbues Justine with a fragile grace that barely conceals the chasms of despair that inexplicably overcome her. Her transition from emotional cripple to enigmatic foreseer of doom is loosely defined yet utterly compelling. Gainsbourg handles the reverse side of Claire excellently as well, the grim irony of the inevitable outcome reflected in her luminous screen quality. She personally reminds me of the likes of Liv Ullman, an actress whose facial expressions seem destined for the big screen.

Von Trier claims to have made the film in the midst of his own crippling depression and the process of bringing it to the screen was a catharsis for him. However much of this is true, is rife for debate. What we have is the work itself; an intoxicating, intricate and incredibly ambitious attempt to contrast the intimate with the epic. Von Trier’s detractors will almost certainly find his directorial vision too singular and his depictions of women distasteful, but rather than mere attention grabbing he has crafted an overwhelmingly powerful cinematic piece that stands as one of his finest to date. A depressive apocalypse drama that leaves you ecstatic? It’s a keeper.

Violence and Claymation at Camden Arts Centre

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Clay animation, or claymation as it is commonly referred to, for me instinctively conjures images of Wallace and Gromit. Cuddly, quirky characters whose comedic traits are enhanced by the clunky childlike style inherent to the medium they work in. It is probably rather ignorant going straight for such a mainstream example, but I doubt I’m the only one.

I was nevertheless equally ignorant as I was lured towards the Camden Arts Centre by the mesmerising images from Nathalie Djubery’s exhibition A World Of Glass. For starters I assumed it would be in Camden. It is not and I still don’t know why it has given its self such a misleading title. It is actually a little unassuming building plonked by Finchley road tube station. Secondly, there was much more to the exhibition than the misshapen glass like objects that I found so pretty.

After poking around the gift shop on the way in-it’s so nice when museums do that, so you don’t feel less cultured for wanting to look around the gift shop first; not that I’d need to, I’d already overcome the intelligence hurdle of finding a museum pretending to be somewhere it wasn’t- I ventured toward the first exhibition room.

A soundscape of tinkling glass and percussion filled the room and encouraged a pensive, quiet atmosphere. This was not an exhibition where you chatted about what you though of the work whilst you were there and tried to sound pretentious, you experienced it. You also experienced it standing up, so after a few moments I began to wander.

The promotion pictures really did do the exhibit justice. In a darkened room, tables of illuminated glass like objects looked surreal and made me feel less silly for wanting to see them simply for their strangely beautiful aesthetic. It quickly transpired that they were part of the set taken from the claymation films that were playing at either end of the studio; designed to make the whole exhibition feel modestly immersive.

At first glance Natalie Djurbery’s short clay animated films seem to portray the inherent playfulness I imagined (the first image I saw was of a bull tottering around a shop full of glass), but you don’t have to watch for long before realising that the artist is merely playing upon our natural assumptions about the medium to convey her real message.

As the museum suggests, Djurbery’s films resemble folk or fairytales, but without any moral judgement. They do, however, use this genre to explore dark and crude themes of suffering, depression and violence using humans and animals. The content of each of the stories was shocking and, at times, bizarre enough; but their combination with the tranquil dim environment transformed any gut reaction into something more pensive. The effect was strangely jarring and definitely uncomfortable, as though I was somehow complicit in the twisted taboos shown on the screen.

The work I feel was important to see. It broke and built barriers between person, screen, self, other, human and animal. It showed the possibilities of claymation as a serious artform; its crudeness effectively conveyed the animalistic forces that drove the characters and its childlike nature added a level of philosophical thought to Djurberg’s portrayal of the human condition.

To summarise, I did not completely enjoy it, I’m glad I didn’t and I don’t think I was supposed to.

Has Hollywood Gone Potty for Limeys? How the Brits Conquered Hollywood.

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A few weeks ago I attended a fantastic industry networking event in Manchester. Among the exhibitors was Industry Hollywood, a company whose sole aim is to help British actors to grow their exposure across the pond. They told me that UK talent is in real demand over in the “Land of the Free”.

So this got me thinking; is this actually true and, if so, why?

Take a gander at the casts of some of the most popular shows on American network TV and you’re sure to come across a fair few Brits. Archie Panjabi in The Good Wife, Linus Richie in Law and Order, Louise Lombard in CSI – this is just a small selection of Brits to “crack” the US drama scene.

The same can be said of many Hollywood movies, with the re-jigged Batman franchise, the upcoming Man of Steel, The Amazing Spider-Man and recent Oscar contenders such as The Social Network all featuring British performers taking roles that could easily be played by Americans.

So, on the surface at least, Hollywood has indeed gone potty for the “Limeys”. But why?

Could it be a cultural thing? In the UK, we have a long and noble theatre tradition, with actors cutting their teeth on stages across the nation before making the move to TV and onto film. In the US this tradition is often reversed. Might this create a different “style” of performance that is now “in vogue”?

In a 2007 interview for the Radio Times, Stephen Fry talked about the difference between American and British actors; “[Take] the supreme relaxed authenticity of a James Stewart or a George Clooney compared with the brittle contrivances of a Laurence Olivier or a Kenneth Branagh, marvellous as they are”

I would certainly agree that you can, at times, see a distinct difference in style when a British actor is dropped into an American TV drama. Take Christopher Eccleston’s short stint in Heroes – he sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s nothing wrong with his performance but it’s certainly different to those around him; he’s performing a role (brilliantly) while those around him are “inhabiting” their characters in a far more comfortable fashion. I’d say the same about the wonderful Hugh Laurie in House.

Now I’m a firm believer that good acting is good acting and I’m wary of the notion that we Brits are in any way “better” than our American cousins. But does our different tradition and altered style make us more attractive to US casting executives? Is there a fashion for “Brit style” acting at the moment?

Maybe not.

In an interview for the Caledonian Mercury, Scottish TV producer Andrea Calderwood, who now works in the US TV Industry, gives another theory; Cost.

“,… Producers are always on the look out for new talent which won’t break the budget. Enter stage right all those eager and ambitious British actors hungry for that Hollywood breakthrough.”

Are we really just “White Mexicans”, a phrase that is apparently doing the rounds in LA?

Toby Hemmingway, a British actor making huge strides in his career over in America, might have a few words to say about that. In a recent interview for the Guardian, he claimed that British actors benefitted from being more resilient.

“It’s the natural pessimism. Being a good loser. Americans think 15 minutes of fame and it’s all over or it’ll make you. Brits are more dogged and realistic”

It’s an interesting idea; that Brits are more tenacious in their attempts to find work. But is it true?

And, indeed, should we be complaining if we’re simply “cheaper” as long as it get us the work?

Let me know what you think in the comments below0.

This article was originally published at www.tim-austin.co.uk

J. Edgar {Film Review}

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There have been many portrayals of J. Edgar Hoover over the past few years in both TV and film. The last time I saw someone playing Hoover was Billy Crudup in Michael Mann’s Public Enemies in 2009. Now Clint Eastwood has decided to take a personal approach to the story (which resulted on the FBI claiming Eastwood making a bad representation of the man), with the help of Dustin Lance Black (from his Oscar-Winning screenplay and the heavily acclaimed, Milk) and Leonardo DiCaprio. You’d think on paper that these three particular individuals would produce something fascinating but it unfortunately doesn’t exceed on not being more than a moderately interesting biopic.

In case you don’t know what the story is from the movie’s title, it focus’s on the life of J. Edgar Hoover (DiCaprio). First seeing him in the 1960s when he was in his late 60s, he tells about how he came to work for the department of justice and worked his way up on being director of the FBI. Also encountering with Helen Gandy (Namoi Watts) and Hoover’s protege, Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer). It later focus’s on Hoover’s and Tolson’s personal relationship, first starting on being close friends to having something more.

The performances in this film is a bit mixed, but edging towards positive. DiCaprio reminds us why he’s the best at what he does and doesn’t show any signs of faltering. Hoover is presented to us on being authoritative but also conflicted on his social life. There’s various scenes where he spends time with his mother, played by Dame Judi Dench. Dench plays the character very well and shows where Hoover gets the commanding persona from. Though as much I love Dench (who doesn’t?), her accent is a bit hard to decipher (whether she’s from a different country or was trying but failing on putting an American accent). Naomi Watts kind of plays Hoover’s guardian angel type character, stands by Hoover no matter what situation he’s in and there’s not much else to her character. Hammer, from his brilliant performance as the Winklevoss twins from The Social Network, brings dramatic weight and nearly out-weighs DiCaprio. He’s someone that admires Hoover’s dedication and motivation but becomes conflicted when his feelings are not returned in the same way.

Dustin Lance Black’s script is very well written but the story structure felt a bit of a mess. Which is a huge shame because it could’ve been better on starting from the very beginning rather than going back and forth from the past to the present. Something of a misstep from Eastwood, as he’s done some great films in the past (Unforgiven, Mystic River and Changeling). Where the latter film was gripping on wanting to know if Christine Collins’ (played by Angelina Jolie) son will ever be found. Whilst in this movie, it was interesting to see J. Edgar on establishing the finer details on conducting proof and evidence from a crime to nail on a suspect but there wasn’t much to learn from him as a person. A scene involving with Hoover and Tolson in a hotel room was probably the most interesting scene from its entirety but outside of it there’s nothing much else. Something that writer Lance Black got right in Milk (where you could see the struggle from Harvey Milk at work and socially) and wished he could’ve worked more on Hoover’s personal story than essentially establishing the FBI.

Overall; a shame all this talent was put behind it and the result was just average. The performances is what keeps this movie going (especially from DiCaprio, that might earn him a nomination) but there’s nothing that makes it memorable compared to Eastwood’s previous work.

3 out of 5