MOVIE OF THE DAY: "THE PRIVATE FILES OF J. EDGAR HOOVER" (1977)

OK, The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover is kind of a lurid title. And its writer/director, Larry Cohen -- unlike, say, Wim Wenders -- often had the adjective "shlockmeister" slapped in front of his name. So it comes as a rather pleasant surprise that not only is this a fascinating, fairly straightforward biopic, I'd say it's more  entertaining -- and, in ways, more accurate -- than Clint Eastwood's 2011 Hoover movie starring Leonard DiCaprio.

Too, unlike DiCaprio, here Broderick Crawford didn't have to spend hours in the make-up chair every morning in order to resemble the bulldog-faced Hoover. Hell, even James Wainwright, who plays the younger Hoover, looks almost exactly like the guy -- even if he was at least a decade older than Hoover at the time portrayed. That's the drawback of today's younger, cleaner-living actors: they won't become convincing character actors until they're pushing 80. And they'll still go kicking and screaming into that good night of supporting roles.

He wouldn't even want to play the lead in Titanic.

Not Broderick Crawford. A lifetime of liquor had left their mark, while cigarettes gave his voice the edge of high-quality sandpaper -- all the more reason he gives such a riveting performance in Private Files. Barking his lines in the same familiar way from his Highway Patrol days, Crawford really does seem to inhabit Hoover (CHEAP JOKE ALERT) even more than his "good friend" Clyde Tolson.

Tolson, in a brilliant bit of casting, is played by former song & dance man Dan Dailey, who was gay himself. To see him squirm uncomfortably when Crawford talks about them described as "fairies" in the Washington gossip circles is either a great piece of acting or a rare piece of reality caught on camera. And talk about being submissive -- Hoover even orders Tolson's food for him in restaurants.

Dan Dailey remembers the days he starred
opposite the likes of Marilyn Monroe and
Cyd Charisse.

To its credit, Private Files never takes the easy route by, say, featuring Hoover in drag. Rather, he's presented as a sexually repressed "confirmed bachelor" who was forever paranoid about getting caught in "love traps" even when women genuinely liked him. His only outlet, it seems, is downing vodka while listening to tapes of criminal suspects (i.e., non-Republicans) having sex in their own homes.

James Wainwright, as the young Hoover, spending
another fun evening at home with mom.

Believe it or not, Private Files presents Hoover in a more nuanced way than you'd expect. In his early days, he's angry at the suspension of suspects' civil rights. He condemns Pres. Roosevelt's internment of American citizens of Japanese descent. This Hoover wallows in low self-esteem: a smart lawyer who suddenly finds himself "America's top cop", when he himself is the butt of jokes for never having even arrested a jaywalker. You even feel kind of sorry for him when Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy treats him contemptuously as his errand boy -- even as Hoover exacts his revenge.

RFK and Hoover play a round of "Who's the
Bigger SOB?"

Hoover, you see, is a paranoid son of a bitch who rapaciously collects dirt not only on alleged enemies, but everyone in Washington -- all the better to keep his job when new administrations consider replacing him. He takes special delight in blackmailing Martin Luther King into saying good things about the FBI, thanks to audio tapes of the civil rights leader enjoying extramarital sex. As with Private Files' astonishingly unflattering portrayal of Bobby Kennedy -- even more paranoid and ruthlessly obsessed with "enemies" than Hoover -- nearly everyone in Private Files is corrupt.

Hoover invites Martin Luther King, Jr. to take a dip
in the pool of mendacity.

Familiar character actors abound in Private Files like a trip to the Hollywoodland Wax Museum. In addition to Crawford, Dailey and Wainwright, there's Jose Ferrer, Lloyd Nolan, Jack Cassidy, Raymond St. Jacques, Celeste Holm, Andrew Duggan, June Havoc, and, in a story than runs parallel to Hoover's, Rip Torn as Dwight Webb, the FBI agent who remains loyal even as his boss tries to bring him down. No wonder Miklos Rozsa's bombastic score appears to be vying for the audience's attention throughout the movie. His orchestra doesn't stand a chance against Private Files' cast.

The Kennedy boys try to figure how to
out-bastard J. Edgar Hoover.

The entire cast (other than the awkward George Plimpton as columnist Quentin Reynolds) is first-rate, particularly William Jordan and Michael Parks, whose portrayals of John and Bobby Kennedy respectively are perhaps the most realistic given of those deeply-flawed men ever committed to screen.

In an amusingly hammy performance, Howard Da Silva has a grand time portraying Pres. Franklin Roosevelt as a wily fox who orders Hoover to go along with the internment camp idea "like a good soldier". Da Silva himself had been blacklisted in the '50s as a "fellow traveler", so the chance of embarrassing Hoover on screen must have delighted him.

The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover's final cut suggests that a lot of footage never got out of the editing room. Characters quickly appear, often unidentified, and are never seen again. (Interestingly, only one character, the fictitious "Leon J. Bookman: Presidential Aide" -- is identified on screen, likely at the legal behest of John Dean, whom he clearly resembles.) One moment Lyndon Johnson is president; the next, Richard Nixon. Rip Torn's on and off narration appears to be an afterthought to cover lost scenes.

No, The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover isn't a slick studio production. This is an American International release after all. But who wants perfection when great is better?

And come to think of it, listening to audiotapes of corrupt politicos having extramarital sex does sound like fun. But I'll take Cabernet over vodka as my drink of choice.

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They don't make trailers like this any more -- perhaps because there are no actors like this: