Originally published on metropolis.co.jp on January 2012

The face of American law enforcement for almost 50 years, J. Edgar Hoover was revered, reviled, feared and admired, but rarely understood. Now Clint Eastwood, working from a script by Milk screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, takes a stab at that last one. The film has received its share of pans along with the raves, mostly for its staid approach. The criticism is understandable, given the man’s complex, contradictory nature. True, it’s pretty straightforward, and even lags in spots, but it eschews sentimentality and condescension. It addresses directly but does not sensationalize Hoover’s very likely but probably suppressed homosexuality (though he refused to hire gays), his relationship with his mother (Judi Dench), a religious homophobe, and his keeping of secret files on Americans “for their own good.” Contradictory, see? Hoover’s relationship with official aide and lifelong companion Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer) is handled with taste and skill. Can you imagine a more difficult, uncharismatic character for an actor to disappear into? But Leonardo DiCaprio does. He does. So now I understand. I think. But, still, I left the theater feeling emotionally distant from the subject; not my usual experience with Eastwood movies.