"Well, that was a depressing tour through American history," one moviegoer snarked as we exited the Quad Theater, the only place left in town still screening J. Edgar, a film which seemed to encounter a dismal reception.
It was incredibly moving to watch. I actually cried a couple times. Strangely, I think this was one of favorite films of the year. It got such pissant middling reviews I was skeptical to see it at all.
And yet it had disquieting echo, which maybe is also partly the source of the negative reactions. Hoover weeps on the floor in a fetal position. Oh poor J. Edgar! It seems to present it's subject far too flatteringly, far too sympathetically. Hoover played by Dicaprio is very likable, even as he's obliterating one enemy after another.
Wasn't this man an abhorrent individual? His tactics of paranoia and surveillance antithetical to the spirit of American principles he ferociously fought for... protecting America from the Communists/traitors/infidels among us?
I'm uncomfortable liking this man, can't resolve the dissonance between the lovable fictional character Hoover and Hoover the odious historical figure. Therein lies the puzzlement this movie provoked.
I may have liked the movie more if I liked the character less, if that makes any sense. I wanted him to be more of a villian. True villiany has an interest and esteem beyond these feeble attempts at reconcilating the myth and the man.
Beyond that, I thought it was dizzyingly good. It has a narrative that jumps from the 60's to the 30's and back again.
The love story involving his companion Clyde Tolson is understated, intense. It's interesting how this was likely reality for gay men of that era. They didn't acknowledge "we are a couple," like the gays do now, even if, for all intents and purposes, they were. It was unspoken but understood.
Some of the makeup (Judi Dench's wig and Armie Hammer's face) is rather horrific and distracting. It must be hard to believably age people in movies. Sometimes it works here, sometimes it doesn't.
I enjoyed how it's revealed that much of what Hoover mythologized about himself was self-aggrandizing pulp fiction. Still, he's an awe-inspiring figure. Can't help but wonder how accurate any of this is? Is it based on letters, a book? What sources, beyond the filmmaker's imaginations, was this derived from?
Also, the movie ends pretty much with Hoover's collapse, slumping over onto his bedroom floor. His secretary shredding the files. A blurb across the screen saying Tolson moved into Hoover's house and accepted the flag at his burial.
It's kinda a downer way to end a film. Even if it is reality. What was his legacy? Is this where the story really ends? What happened to Tolson and the secretary? Couldn't there be any more of an "up" to end the movie on?
Why did I love it? It's a gay love story, at least to me. I could see how straights could watch it and not necessarily recognize it as such. It's not a buddy movie, not a romance. Very understated, but potent and poignant. Beautifully acted and shot and told.
And... Armie Hammer is the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes upon in my entire life. That alone is worth the price of admissions.
These are the reasons why I liked this commonly derided film.
