I've seen Django Unchained twice now. After the second viewing, I looked back through the notes I'd made after the first, and realised that most of them were now useless. As with a lot of Quentin Tarantino's work, it takes more than one watch to fully form an opinion, but in this case I'd changed my mind almost entirely. I read back through them, crossing out complaints regarding its lengthy, meandering scenes and its jarring refusal to end at its obvious conclusion. But I understand these things better now for what they are: exercises in character development that make this one of its author's richest and most engaging works.
One of the cardinal sins of film journalism is that you must never call a film 'boring' – professionalism dictates that there must be a more accurate way of singling out the movie's flaws; a more apt way of summing up why it disappoints. A dull script, perhaps, or flat performances. But no. There is no better way to summarise the ways in which Clint Eastwood's Hoover biopic fails: J. Edgar is just fucking boring. It just is. It looks boring, it sounds boring, it feels boring, it IS boring.
I'm lucky enough to have awards screeners sent to my doorstep - or, more accurately, my letterbox - and sometimes the films haven't even been released in the UK yet. Look Mum, I've finally made it! Here are my first, unofficial opinions on Clint Eastwood's Hoover biopic, J. Edgar.
Hopefully by now, you'll have already seen and begun to digest Inception. If you haven't, go and stand in the corner while I heap my shame upon you. Better, go and watch it, then go and stand in the corner. You can digest it while I heap my shame upon you.