Impotent. Is the best word I can come up with to describe the Eastwood/Dustin Lance Black collaboration. Dead on arrival. I knew within 30 seconds the movie was completely lifeless, uninspired, just one steaming hunk of shit. Four words into the voice over to open the film and it was snooze-a-rooz. What is going on? Clint has taken this "I shoot the first draft of the script," too far. Or perhaps he forgot how to read. Dustin Lance Black is the most overrated writer in Hollywood. Milk was carried only by Sean Penn's performance. The screenplay, I remember thinking when I watched the film, was terrible. This movie only confirms my original instinct. The problem, I'm nearly positive, has to do with a cinematic education. Who are these screenwriters who think by reading biographies and interviewing people who knew J. Edgar, that they can construct a film via history? This is amateur hour, the approach an undergraduate with a small interest in movie would take. They go for "psychological realism." I have a better term for it - steaming hunk of dog shit. There is no cinematic tradition considered in the conception of this movie. Did he even consider Citizen Kane? Has he seen the movie? I'm not even a fan of Kane, but isn't this the obvious starting point for doing a biopic about someone like J.Edgar Hoover. Yikes. I love Clint, but if I'm Warner Bros, I'm seriously considering pulling his carte blanche and Dustin Lance Black very well might be a good and decent person, but he should not be paid to write screenplays.