Based on the experiences of FBI agent Michael German, Imperium stars Daniel Radcliffe in another of his I-must-get-away-from-this-fucking-boy-wizard-tag roles. This time, he's Nate Foster, an intelligent and empathetic Ivy League FBI agent whose knack for interpersonal skills places him on the radar of the experienced and perpetually gum-chewing undercover handler Angela Zamparo, played by Toni Collette. Recruiting him to infiltrate white supremacists who are likely to mastermind Timothy McVeigh-style, dirty bomb planting terrorist acts, Nate is soon shaven-headed and bomber-jacketed, mingling with the local Neo-Nazis who have caught her eye.
On the whole, Imperium does well to avoid the usual identity-crisis plot development that so often prefigures the undercover cop drama, but it does have Nate forging some kind of kinship (predictably) with one of the more intelligent and sophisticated targets he is set to take down, which puts the film on the usual path to cliche. This familiarity would be less of a problem where Imperium's overall style and elan in terms of production and storytelling better than it actually is, but there's an air of cheapness that is all too pervasive here that ultimately sinks this well-intentioned effort and leads me to consider that as several TV productions have explored this kind of narrative more successfully, TV might have been this production's more natural home. Where Imperium excels is in its frank depiction of what may be called the accessible face of fascism; polite, family friendly BBQ's serving as an uncomfortably domesticated and recognisable alternative to the usual KKK gatherings - though the film will resort to speeded up archive footage of Nazis and white supremacist groups to signpost in the most laboured fashion that, y'know, racism is bad.
It's worth pointing out that Radcliffe does rather well in his central role. Arguably, his keen and somewhat greenhorn FBI agent is more convincing than his alter-ego of the committed fascist, but I think that's deliberate as the film is keen to tip the wink that this is a committed FBI agent who is somewhat out of his depth on occasion. It would be easy to place the blame for Imperium's disappointment at Radcliffe's door, but it would - to my mind at least - be unfair, and I speak as someone who has never seen a Harry Potter film and considers the viewing of them as a personal kind of hell. However the film has no defence whatsover for wasting the talents of the charismatic and talented Toni Collette, and it is too her credit that some of that natural charisma shines through even though little more than looking sassy in an FBI baseball cap, chewing gum and tossing How To Win Friends and Influence People at Radcliffe is all that is required of her.
Whatever happened to Kelly McGillis?
I've always rather liked her in films, but watching The House On Carroll Street I was truly struck by the strong and largely independent leading lady role she embodied. There's a touch of the Ingrid Bergman in Hitch's Notorious about her, which sums up perfectly the kind of influence Peter Yates' film, from a script by Walter Bernstein, has; good old fashioned thrillers from the 40s and 50s which features an innocent getting tangled up in a deadly web of intrigue. Indeed you could watch this with the colour turned down on your TV and almost convince yourself you're watching a movie made back then. It's that good.
The House On Carroll Street is a very engaging, beautifully evocative 1950s set suspense thriller set around the backdrop of the McCarthy witch hunts (Bernstein himself was a blacklisted writer, having fallen foul of the HUAC) McGillis stars as a young politically engaged picture editor for Life magazine who loses her job when she refuses to testify before the committee. She finds work reading to an old lady (Jessica Tandy in an all too infrequent supporting role) on Carroll Street, but is hampered by a near constant tail from two FBI agents, including the laconic loping Jeff Daniels. One day McGillis goes out into the yard and overhears an angry conversation in German from the window of the house opposite and recognises one man in particular in the heated debate as the man who interrogated her on the committee; a slickly duplicitous Mandy Patinkin.
Piecing things together with the help of the young and frightened German she overheard being threatened, she uncovers the HUAC's plan to smuggle in Nazi war criminals to America to share their technical know how and experiences to help strengthen their fight against communism.
McGillis is superb in this and really suits the 1950s style. She's a tall broad shouldered amazon who carries each outfit of with considerable aplomb. I don't think I'd ever truly noticed how big she was until this movie; she's evenly matched here with Daniels but she must have looked like a beast next to diminutive cinematic irritant and alien believer Tom Cruise in Top Gun. It's interesting and satisfying that Bernstein chooses someone whom the upper echelons of 50s America viewed with such contemptuous mistrust to be the most trustworthy, good and rational figure in this labyrinth of deceit and there's a pleasing irony to see Daniels' FBI agent come to realise that the 'bad' person he is investigating is in fact good, whilst his superiors are really the evil ones.
As befits the strong female role in the film, Daniels is not your traditional hero. He refuses to carry a gun, comes off worse in every fight, doesn't really save the day and doesn't even get the girl. His only really impressive, heroic acts are the discovery of a bomb in McGillis' stove (which he cannot diffuse because he nearly failed the bomb disposal course) and principally his growing faith and belief in McGillis and her suspicions. It's a refreshing depiction of a leading man - playing second fiddle to the heroine - and it's a testament to the likeable, open faced Daniels that he pulls it off without ever appearing weak, ineffectual or surplus to the proceedings. With the final season of HBO's (divisive but hey I absolutely LOVE it) drama The Newsroom ending on Sky Atlantic this week I can predict a glut of Daniels films to come, just to keep my fix going.
It was perhaps fitting that the biopic of a man both revered and reviled received such mixed reviews upon release.
J. Edgar was a self confessed labour of love for Clint Eastwood and follows the template of his directorial style for better or worse; satisfyingly old fashioned, epic in length, stately, methodical and conservative. The criticism the film received is understandable given its structural flaws - using an episodic flashback and forward narrative, Eastwood gives us very little to hang onto other than the very flabby and creaky device of the main protagonist, in later years, dictating his life story - but perhaps more frustrating is the kid gloves approach he takes with the more reviled characteristics of Hoover. Certainly he addresses the notion of power and fame corrupting the man, how he spun his own PR to suggest he was more hands on than he truly was, and, thankfully, he explores the seamier side and issues inherent in giving one man such power for so long most noticeably in his spiteful vendettas against public figures most notably Martin Luther King.
Unfortunately, Eastwood's exploration is hardly even handed as more is given over to the considered successes and positives of Hoover's career, notably his forward thinking and faith in criminal science which came to a head in the tragic baby Lindbergh kidnapping case.
Where Eastwood should be applauded however is in his sensitive handling of Hoover's private life; his oedipal relationship with his mother and the rumours he wore her clothing, along with his homosexuality and long standing relationship or companionship with his second in command Clyde Tolson, things that would once be held up as salacious indecencies that proved Hoover's unsuitability for his role and was used by way of explanation for his more monstrous behaviour are dealt with matter of factly, in context and touchingly. It's easy to protest that this biopic didn't focus on the dirt as much as we would perhaps like but, quite rightly, Eastwood ensures an audience realises there's no dirt to be found in the man's sexual preferences.
Personally I would have liked to have seen more of all Hoover's stages at the FBI and for a film that runs at 2 hrs 10 mins it's a shame that so many things are glossed over, mentioned only in passing or ignored completely - such as his battles against organised crime, his involvement in McCarthy's witch hunts and his volatile relationships with successive presidents - as the film largely concentrates itself with Lindbergh and Hoover's last days. It is in the climax that Eastwood offers us a brief yet tantalising parallel between Hoover and the then White House incumbent Nixon. On Hoover's death, the president worked quick to seize all of his personal files only to be outdone by Hoover's faithful staffer, Helen Gandy. Like Oliver Stone's Nixon (which saw Bob Hoskins play Hoover) before it, there's a gruesome yet fascinating similarity between both men that bears closer and more in depth observation - how they persevered to achieve the heights of their respective offices having both felt slighted by their contemporaries, superiors and supposed betters as well as their bullying styles which saw them shut everyone out and their desire to record everything possible in finite detail - but this too chooses to only briefly address these mutual characteristics.
Where J. Edgar totally succeeds is in the strong performance of its leading man, Leonardo DiCaprio. Having long since abandoned his 1990s teenage pin up status, DiCaprio continues to prove his fearlessness in tackling meaty roles that could potentially alienate his core audience. It's an admirable way to tackle one's career and it continues to pay dividends,marking Leo out as this generation's most interesting film star. Perhaps naturally given the nature of the film and his performance, much of the supporting cast fall in his shadow with Naomi Watts as Mrs Gandy and Armie Hammer as Tolson often just marking time. Neither actor are helped by heavy latex to suggest their later years (it seems like the budget went on Leo's alone) and Hammer's turn as the aged Tolson is too caricatured and cliched to convince. Judi Dench offers a brief yet enjoyable cameo as Hoover's mother but there's not enough for her to get between her teeth and seems to offer little more than an approach that fills the Judi Dench sized holes in the script. Her finest moment is in the heartless recounting of the fate a childhood friend of Hoover's endured following his outing as a transvestite. It's a scene that sends chills down your spine as it becomes clear Mrs Hoover, and her generation, cannot tolerate such 'deficiencies' in character.
Eastwood's film is typically Eastwood, though its miles better than the dull Hereafter, and has some old charm appeal but one cannot help but wonder how much livelier and more visceral such a biopic could have been in the hands of a director like Oliver Stone, Martin Scorsese or even Steven Soderbergh.
