I feel I should write an essay on the topic but I won't and can't, since more urgent matters pre-occupy me.
In a blog such as this it seems irrelevant and off topic to write about the fickle glamorous fantasy world of Western-centric Hollywood movies filled as they are by various agenda's, and run by Jews as a monopoly.
Hollywood movies dubbed or otherwise are pervasive in every 194 countries of the world, and are a key propaganda tool of the USA. They largely directly or subliminally reinforce USA government domestic and foreign policy. Given the current mafia like nature of American governments that is a very big problem, and a troubling issue.
Hollywood still produces the best movies in the world, with an annual turnover of ten's of billions in profits and millions of audiences world -wide.
Despite the fact that much of the material is utter escapist teenie-weenie drivel pre-occupied with Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Animatrix, Comic Strip heroes and Aliens......classic Jewish misdirection fantasy from the 1000 gorilla in the room of an ever expanding REALITY of a Jewish run police state in the USA, which also happens to be the only REAL existing empire on earth with 1000 military bases around the globe, 4-5 hotwars, a $1500 billion unofficial security budget.......and a mafia government which runs guns for the Mexican drug Cartel Cocainista's with Wall Street (This in itself could be a movie, starring photogenic likable hunks such as Leonardo DiCaprio, whats the other square jawed ones???...........or that WASP foot soldier action hero with the short crop hair in every movie...Sam Worthington)
Though in truth a very fat wobbly piece of lard fumbling across the screen would be more appropriate.
But alas Hollywood is also intrinsically connected to the Jewish police state that has been seriously built up since, especially the 1990's after the collapse of the Soviet Union. It plays an important role in the Jew psych-war against humanity, and in utilizing Westerners, especially WASP's.
Naturally state intelligence and the police play a key role in promoting Jew power, whether in the USA or around the world. In the USA the FBI has played the key role in converting the USA from a reasonably optimistic open democracy, into a dark, paranoid police state which is at war with its own people, legalistically thus far, and with the rest of the world physically.
Naturally Hollywood has thus been used to promote the FBI in parallel with this police state phenomenon from the 1990's, the nemesis of open free society....and human optimism (that which is good in us all).....using stars such as Tommy Lee Jones and Clint Eastwood. (standard WASP)
Clint Eastwood in turn produces and directs utter misleading films such as the "Biopic" on faggotty Hoover, the undisputed Czar of the FBI for 42 years......similar to Robert Mueller who has been running it for 10 undisputed years 2001---2011. Clintwood thus promotes the Jewish police State that exists now in the USA. He plays a similar role to that of Leni Riefenstahl played for the Nazis and Goebbels( absolutely no apology or irony in mentioning Jews and Nazis at the same level). One cannot stretch this point too far, given the very dangerous permanent war nature of the USA, with its dire economic situation.
Eastwood with his many siblings, and marriages is the "Roger Moore" of Hollywood....except that unlike poor Rog exiled to tax haven Switzerland, Eastwood in Narcissistic USA is taken more seriously as an actor/director and in the absence of a monarchy, as a "sovereign" king of Hollywood....along with Spielberg (deserved) and George Lucas (deserved). Put on tough guy face and a gruff voice....thats it.
Clint Eastwood’s Dishonest ‘J. Edgar’By consortiumnews and James DiEugenio
In the last two decades, Eastwood has managed to elevate his reputation and standing in the film colony in a way that would have seemed nearly impossible back in say 1971, the year that Dirty Harry was released.
If one recalls, Eastwood first got noticed by doing the TV series Rawhide, three so-called spaghetti Westerns with Italian director Sergio Leone, and the first of five movies in the Dirty Harry series.
Established as an actor with box-office appeal, Eastwood formed his own production company, called Malpaso, and produced, directed and/or starred in such films as Breezy, The Eiger Sanction, Every Which Way but Loose, Any Which Way You Can, Honky Tonk Man, City Heat, Pink Cadillac, The Rookie and so on.
Pretty much forgettable fare. But since Eastwood’s much overrated Western Unforgiven, there seems to have been an almost industry-wide agreement to make believe that Eastwood is somehow both a fine actor and a serious director. Even people like Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese have joined in the effort.
This tells us a lot about the decline of American film, and the concomitant ascension of people like Quentin Tarantino, the Coen brothers, Kathryn Bigelow and Eastwood.
If one defines acting in its purest sense as channeling what one has into creating someone different than oneself, i.e. applying one’s voice, carriage, intelligence and imagination to enliven this other persona, when has Eastwood ever done that?
When has he ever transformed himself like say Philip Seymour Hoffman did in the film Capote? Or say Robert DeNiro did in The Last Tycoon, or Bang the Drum Slowly? When did he ever do what Gene Hackman did in The Conversation?
At his best, Eastwood flexes his persona to indicate someone else. But this after the fact elevation of Eastwood as an actor has now led to his elevation as a director. I cannot remember an Eastwood-directed film from which I recall any memorable editing montage, any remarkable photographic effects, or any kind of extraordinary use of what is called mise-en-scene, that is the placement and movement of actors within the frame.
What makes this such a telling point is that Eastwood’s directing career goes all the way back to 1971 and the film Play Misty for Me. And that non-distinction continues here.
I generously counted two directorial strophes that were above the pedestrian. When DiCaprio listens to the illicit tapes, Eastwood shows us two silhouettes on the wall of a hotel room beginning to undress. When the body of the Lindbergh baby is discovered, the camera tilts up to show how close it was to the Lindbergh home. And that is it for a 137-minute film.
But what is even more surprising is that the actor Eastwood does very little, if anything, with his cast. DiCaprio takes on a different voice, but it’s not Hoover’s voice. And it sometimes lapses into Boston Irish, and then into a southern drawl.
This might be excusable (although there are many voice coaches available to aid in these things). But DiCaprio does not even capture the unusual speech cadence that Hoover had, the stop-start, staccato phrasing the man used.
And even when Hoover ages, I could not discern a real attempt to capture the unusual gait that Hoover had, which made him seem even more compact and bearish than he was. As for conveying any of the malevolence or manipulation in the man, DiCaprio barely registers it.
Naomi Watts walks though her nondescript role as Hoover’s secretary Helen Gandy. Armie Hammer as Hoover’s friend and assistant, Clyde Tolson, is a complete non-entity. And when Eastwood ages him he gets even worse.
First, the make-up is bizarre, making Tolson look like a walking exhibit from a waxworks museum. And Tolson did not look like that, as anyone can see from his photos at Hoover’s funeral. But secondly, Hammer’s attempts to simulate old age are pure amateur-night stuff: the slow walk with shaking arms. It is out of summer-stock theater.
If Eastwood could not get a performance out of someone like Hammer, one could excuse him. But what can one say if a director cannot do anything with Dame Judy Dench? This is the actress who was voted as giving the finest female performance ever in the Royal Shakespeare Company as Lady MacBeth. Dench delivers here a performance at about the level of former TV actress Linda Lavin.
Eastwood is famous for not rehearsing and not wanting to do more than three or so takes of a scene. The result of that method is pretty obvious in J. Edgar. These actors needed to be pushed harder. Eastwood doesn’t do that, nor does he believe in it.
Let me end with what Black and Eastwood use as the climax of the film. It is a lover’s quarrel between Tolson and Hoover in a hotel room. They are on vacation and Hoover says he is thinking of taking a wife, Myrna Loy.
This causes Tolson to get angry, and a fistfight ensues. But then Hammer kisses DiCaprio. I wondered where this scene came from since I had not seen it mentioned in any of the now standard biographies of Hoover.
I finally located it in a book that is not considered a standard reference work, Puppetmaster by Richard Hack. On page 233 of that book, an argument is described between the two men at a hotel. But it does not resemble the one that Black and Eastwood depict.
Hack just writes about an argument the two had which, he said, resulted from some apparent slight to Hoover by Tolson. That is it. Nothing about Hoover taking a wife and Tolson flying into a jealous rage.
But further Hack does not footnote this episode either. So we don’t know how reliable the sourcing is. But apparently that didn’t bother Black from using it to fulfill his agenda.
If Black didn’t have an agenda, if he had been interested in who Hoover really was, what he represented, and what his pernicious impact on America really was, he would have shown us a different confrontation, such as the one that went on between Hoover and Director of Domestic Intelligence William Sullivan.
To my knowledge, Sullivan was the only man in the executive offices who ever stood up to Hoover. About a year or two before Hoover died, Sullivan wrote a series of memos criticizing Hoover’s performance as Director on issues like his gross exaggeration of the Communist threat inside the USA, his failure to hire African-American agents, and his failure to enforce civil rights laws. Sullivan also had tired of Hoover’s blackmail surveillance on presidents and began to think the Director was not of sound mind. [Summers, pgs. 397-99]
This culminated in a meeting in Hoover’s office where Sullivan said Hoover should retire. Hoover refused, and it was Sullivan who was forced out of the Bureau. Sullivan later testified before the Church Committee and gave Congress much inside information about Hoover’s illegal operations.
Sullivan once told columnist Robert Novak that if one day he would read about his death in some kind of accident, Novak should not believe it; it would be murder.
In 1977, during the re-investigations of the killings of John Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Sullivan died in New Hampshire as he was meeting with friends to go deer hunting. Another hunter, with a telescopic sight, mistook Sullivan for a deer and killed him with his rifle.
The book that Sullivan was working on about his 30 years in the FBI was then posthumously published, but reportedly in much expurgated form. He was one of six current or former FBI officials who died in a six-month period in 1977, the season of inquiry into FBI dirty deeds and FBI cover-ups of political assassinations.
If this film had ended with the Sullivan-Hoover feud, it would have told us something about both America and about Hoover. But it would have been dark and truthful. Evidently, Black and Eastwood were not interested in that.
Black’s agenda is pretty clear. Why Eastwood went along with this pastel-colored romance about a man who was a blackmailing monster is difficult to understand. But it proves again, as Pauline Kael explained decades ago, why Clint Eastwood is no artist. Artists don’t compromise. And they don’t falsify.