Not recommended. There is something very wrong with J. Edgar and it’s not the costuming. As a culture, we have a perfectly understandable respect for people, like cops, who put themselves in danger to protect us. Even cops who are boring or despicable deserve our thanks if they take on this burden. But if they are boring and despicable, like J. Edgar Hoover, they may deserve thanks but not two hours of attention. Director Clint Eastwood tries to create interest by rooting about in Hoover’s closet, appearing to claim that homosexual repression was his downfall. But not even Hollywood’s favorite gay scribbler (Dustin Lance Black) can brighten this pile of rags. Many of the scenes between Hoover and his long-time companion, Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), are thoroughly unconvincing. Add Hammer’s atrocious old man make-up, unintentionally laughable impressions of Robert Kennedy and Richard Nixon and you have a very rumpled petticoat.