Lots of 'Agni' in 'Agneepath'....

Here's the pic from the Governor's 'At Home'. The gracious lady is the Governor's wife,Radha. I have received a wonderful letter from the Guv himself. I'll post it here tomorrow. Umesh Kashikar, who is the Guv's P.R.O , has forwarded it to me... and I appreciate the effort greatly.

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Kya good-looking hai hum!

Hrithik Roshan has no business being this good looking! Really! It is these very God-given looks that have become a bit of a liability for the poor man. Yes, one can always say, “Get over it ”. But that doesn’t happen easily. In an earlier hit (“Zindagi….”), Hrithik’s Greek God appearance worked for the character and mood of the movie. Distracting, but apt. In ‘Agneepath’, it’s harder to focus on Hrithik playing Vijay Dinanath Chauhan ( tch-tch… that should have read : Chavan) , simply because he looks far too posh for the role. Put the man in a shabby ganji, locate him in an overcrowded chawl, he’ll still resemble a poster boy for the good life – an Armani model slumming it over the weekend just to check what life is like on the other side of the railway tracks. I have yet to meet a Maharashtrian man who looks anything like Hrithik ( and it isn’t just about those blue-green eyes, or carefully blond-streaked hair).Then comes the performance. Again, it’s hard not to compare it to not-so-handsome Amitabh Bachchan’s original Vijay, with burning coals for eyes and that exaggerated gravelly voice. Hrithik’s interpretation is a more nuanced one – brooding, intense, not half as volcanic.It’s easy to fall in love with Hrithik’s Vijay – it’s a wonder the evil Kancha ( man mountain Sanjay Dutt) doesn’t flip for him!So, does the film work for today’s audiences?Forget the staggering box office records for the moment. The answer is ‘Yes’. And I say this after having shut my eyes and blocked my ears through all that blood-and-gore ( it is one of the most stomach churning films in recent memory, replete with sadistic, graphic close- ups that I couldn’t handle). It is also very dated , with an ambiguous time frame. This may be the reason why it works – with all that rona-dhona, honour, glory, revenge masala we used to lap up decades ago. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if nostalgia for an old-fashioned genre that once defined Bollywood stages a triumphant comeback after this blockbuster. No special effects, no 3-D. Just heavy duty melodrama. And one truly ridiculous scene of Zarina Wahab delivering a baby. Zarina!! But the undisputed superactor in this colourful retelling of an old film is Rishi Kapoor, whose curled lips and heartless sneers speak a new language of polished villainy. Rishi’s Rauf Lala steals the show effortlessly, reminding us once again that genius is all in the genes.
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George Clooney and Hrithik Roshan suffer from the same problem – both make the cut as ‘The Sexiest Men Alive’. Trust me, that’s a serious handicap. If Clooney does win the coveted Best Actor Oscar for his role as Matt King in ‘The Descendants’ it would be for playing a cuckolded husband – which woman in her right mind would cheat on someone who looks like Clooney? Geddit?? It’s Bollywood’s way of telling George, “It’s okay, dude. We forgive you for being so blindingly attractive!” It’s poor Brad Pitt’s problem as well. What can these actors do? They are brilliant at their craft. But nobody wants to look beyond their obvious sex appeal. Tough, huh? Well, a guy’s gotta do, what a guy’s gotta do. Good luck, George. About the movie, it belongs to three people – Robert Forster, playing Matt’s father-in-law,Shailene Woodley playing Alexandra, Matt’s troubled teenage daughter, and Nick Krause as Sid, Alex’s chilled out boyfriend. Clooney is a bonus!

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Air India can learn from Finnair!

It's been raining movies this weekend. Agneepath followed by The Descendants.Not that I am complaining about either! More from me on both. The idea is to make the most of January's last Sunday... I bet half the world is sighing, "Oh God! First month gone in a flash!" Gayaa toh gayaa. As for me, I'm in the mood to sign up for a flash mob performance of 'Chikni Chameli' outside the Mantralaya. Better still, the mob should opt for the original Marathi version - 'Komdi Palali."

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This appeared in the Asian Age today...

Maa…. Tujhe Salaam!

I’m writing this the morning after the night before.India’s 63rd Republic Day went off without an ‘incident’, and we should be so relieved. Imagine. It has come to that. For nearly a fortnight before the 26th Of January, there is an extra high alert all over the country.Which means it is not the best time to be traveling, especially if Delhi is your destination. First, you deal with the notorious fog ( surely, there’s a foreign hand somewhere?) that delays flights for hours on end. Then there’s the deadly red alert, which means further delays and mysterious procedures. Add to that, the presence of countless men in camouflage gear, bearing serious weapons and looking menacingly at weary, sleep deprived passengers. No, it’s not fun at all. The drill is slightly different in Mumbai, where the biggest Republic Day woes revolve around the ‘no booze’ rule. Restaurants, pubs, clubs and bars remain largely empty. And those die hard tipplers who can afford it, jump onto flights taking them for heavy duty r&r to Phuket ( shunned by the smart set these days, but popular with Bollywood holiday makers), Colombo or Rangoon( for the determinedly hip). Given the slight nip in the air, Mumbaikars grab the opportunity to air moth- balled shawls and sweaters and complain about catching a chill. Nobody really thinks about the State of the Nation while admiring the tastefully lit up Mantralaya. This is just as well. No matter what those bods in the Capital tell us, the story isn’t all that wonderful. And it’s slightly silly to keep pointing out the price of ‘mutter’ and ‘pyaaz’. Yes, those damned veggie prices are down by a couple of bucks. So what? The other, more significant statistics remain depressingly stagnant, and oppressively frustrating. At the moment, India’s report card isn’t reading well, never mind the fickle Sensex ka yo-yo. Or any of the other indicators of Bharat Mata’s ‘progress’ that swing as tantalizingly as Katrina Kaif’s hips in the latest superhit ‘item song’ (‘Chikni Chameli’ from ‘Agneepath’). Despite all the above, magic happens. As it did last evening, at a charming, old- fashioned Republic Day Reception , hosted by Shri K. Sankaranarayanan ,the well liked Governor of Maharashtra and his wife, Shrimati Radha , on the lawns of what has to be one of the grandest Raj Bhavans in India ( the one in Kolkata comes a close second).
I make it a point to attend these ‘At Homes’ each time I receive an invitation. Some Governors like me, some don’t. I’m guessing Shri Sankaranarayanan likes me, since I was invited for the second year running. This is just as well. I like him , too. And I enjoy the archaic drill on such occasions, replete with several colonial flourishes, like a military band playing Viennese waltzes, once they’re done with a brassy version of the national anthem. This is the moment everybody waits for. By then, a warm, melon hued sun is setting in the bay on the edge of the manicured lawns. A discreet drum roll alerts invitees to the presence of ‘Important Men’ who appear as if out of nowhere on top of a stone stairway that leads to the lawns. These represent the top brass of the State – Shri Prithivaj Chavan, the Chief Minister , and other members of the cabinet who walk right behind these two worthy gentleman. There is an appropriate hush, as members of the consular corps, visiting dignitaries ( the health minister from Quebec, this year), top cops, lawyers, business people, plus, assorted hustlers and other usual suspects stand aside respectfully to allow the slow passage of the Guv to a gilded sofa placed on a carpet over the lawn. While the Guv’s entourage follows at a small distance, various pushy invitees stalk and waylay the poor C.M.. thrusting cards into his hand, and clicking pictures with him on their cell phones ( Facebook, zindabad!).Meanwhile, a long queue starts to snake its way towards the gilded sofa, where the Guv and his gracious wife, nod and smile at people they are not likely to meet ever again. Tea is served . Coffee, too. Out of large stainless steel containers with convenient taps. Cake, sandwiches, samosas get piled on to the plates of those who aren’t busy schmoozing and sucking up to VIPs and prefer snacks over sycophancy. These form a minority. As the sun sinks into the Arabian Sea, a plaintive last post is sounded, and the tricolour comes down.Mercifully, no speeches are made. Not so mercifully, invitees complain that the parking lot this year has been shifted to Chowpatty Beach, nearly two kilometers away from the Raj Bhavan. Security issues are cited, but that explanation placates nobody. I spot India’s premier Oscar winner, Bhanu Athaiya, patiently waiting for her car. She is on an Oscar road trip across the country for a tv channel as a run up to the big event.It’s been years since an Indian won that precious Oscar. If only those dumb Hollywood guys who decide these things were to start a fresh category for the Best Item Song of the Year, India would win Oscar upon Oscar, year after year. Till such time, we’ll have to console ourselves and be grateful that Anil Kapoor gets mobbed in Agra, while Tom Cruise needs hired fans in Mumbai.
But for me, this lovely, newspaperless morning was made lovelier still when a friend sent me a link to a Youtube video that featured the good looking crew of Finnair dancing to a rollicking Bollywood track (“Om, Shanti, Om”) on a Republic Day flight to Delhi. Now, that’s what I call a real celebration. Why couldn’t Air India have thought of it first?

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Proud to be Indian!

I am sitting at home and thinking to myself.... It's kinda appropriate to be posting a column about Yoko Ono on India's 62nd Republic Day. 'Give peace a chance' , the immortal anthem written by Yoko's husband John Lennon so many moons ago, remains frighteningly relevant today. And there's Yoko, energetically carrying on in her own unique way... raising the bar with each cause she backs.
I shall attend the Governor's 'At Home' this evening, held on the manicured lawns of the magnificent Raj Bhavan, and then rush to watch 'Agneepath'. More on the movie tomorrow.
Meanwhile... here's saluting India. A great nation. Proud to be Indian.

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“Give peace… and women…. a chance!”

Yoko Ono is one hell of a woman. She has guts. And tenacity. She also has tremendous self-belief. As the loathed and reviled wife (and now, widow) of the legendary John Lennon, Yoko has been accused of many ‘crimes’. But I think, her biggest one (according to critics) is that she has refused to buckle under, and disappear quietly into the woodwork. The feisty ‘protest artist’ as she describes herself, is in India to woo and perhaps celebrate the women of this country with a show aptly titled, “Our Beautiful Daughters”. In a free wheeling interview to a daily, Yoko Ono spoke engagingly and passionately about her concerns, making several references to her late husband’s immortal anthem which featured the inspiring lyrics that urged each and every one of us to ‘make the world a better place.’ Yoko insists she has been doing her best to take that theme forward. But the most telling quote in the interview stated, “ The whole world is starting to realize that it was the most unwise thing to have ignored woman-power, to run societies with male priorities.” Yoko articulated what millions of women across the globe deeply believe in, but cannot articulate as lucidly. Yoko also clarified she was never a flag waving activist for women’s rights. She said she had spent her entire life merely being herself, which automatically meant ‘promoting women’. As an avant- garde conceptual and performance artist, Yoko has invariably and inventively tested the limits, challenged stereotypes and broken rules. Unfortunately, the international art world has stubbornly refused to take her seriously.Ditto for the music world. If anything, Yoko has been consistently snubbed by the art elite, most of who happen to be men, as she herself dryly pointed out. But instead of retreating hurt and spewing bile, Yoko has soldiered on, undertaking high risk projects that have generated controversy and comment, but rarely any appreciation.
Women like Yoko Ono almost always generate hostile responses since they cannot be placed inside a neatly labeled box. When she married the man who was acknowledged as ‘the most talented Beatle’, she got savaged in print by John Lennon’s besotted fans that saw her as a weird outsider, a control freak, a gold digger. The fact her husband respected and trusted her, did not count for much. After his brutal murder, she was expected to lie low or preferably, disappear altogether.But she wisely refused to walk away from her husband’s mighty legacy. Against tremendous odds, she hung in there and faced the barrage of anti-feelings that confronted her each time she was seen in public. Her ‘protests’ were viewed as stunts and gimmicks. Her public rebellion was dubbed suspect. And her appropriating John’s persona was called cold blooded and opportunistic. Yoko became the official ‘Evil Witch from the East.’ And even today, so many years later, she remains a persona non-grata in snooty circles.
Women in India are far more open minded and accepting of people like Yoko Ono. She says she has been welcomed and greeted by so many intelligent and beautiful women from the Indian art world. This is an accurate and reassuring observation. Yoko Ono is not perceived as a ‘threat’ by anybody in this part of the world. In America, her Japanese identity may have been held against her. Fans of the Beatles continue to blame Yoko for the split, and she is still made to answer for that high profile break up of the group. Had she conformed to the assigned role and behaved like a groupie (which is what most wives of famous musicians turn into), maybe she wouldn’t have generated so much heat. But Yoko Ono it was who persuaded her husband to pose naked with her for the jacket of their album. And it was Yoko again who defiantly sat next to her husband, holding hands, during their first trip to India. This was at a spiritual retreat in Rishikesh where men and women were segregated and made to sit separately. Expecting Yoko to be a good girl and behave herself was never a part of the plan! Thank God she didn’t disappoint anyone. Let’s wait and see what Yoko does on her second trip to India! Let’s hope she manages to generate shock and awe this time round as well.

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My 'Saafa' moment in Jaipur.....

Since there is a charming comment on the 'saafa' in my friend Meenal Baghel's lively 'Mumbai Mirror' today, I thought it a good plan to share images with my blogdosts. Alas, there were no jewels on the turban, just a 'Penguin 25 Years' tin badge pinned on it! It is a terrific time to be a Penguin. And I am indeed exceedingly loyal to the imprint that has given me so much over those very 25 years that we are celebrating this year, with a series of exciting events. I wish I could have carried my bright and beautiful 'Socialite Bag' that night, but it was swiped! What an imaginative merchandising opportunity. Since 25 authors, along with 25 iconic titles, are being honoured via post cards, mugs and cloth bags, how could I not carry my own one which acknowledges my first ever book, 'Socialite Evenings'? The other bags worth possessing are 'The Bag of Small Things' and 'The Suitable Bag'. No prizes for guessing which fabulous authors inspired those - right???
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This appeared in the Bombay Times today.... fingers crossed the videolink does happen...


Jab Salman gayab ho gaya!

The single most vibrant ‘presence’ at the Jaipur Lit Fest was of someone who wasn’t there! Had Salman Rushdie really shown up, I’m certain he’d have overshadowed Oprah Winfrey. Thousands of Salman supporters were hoping against all odds that Rushdie would defy conventional wisdom and turn up at Diggi Palace. I guess the ‘cooked up’ death threats took care of that key decision, leaving the Talk Show Queen to hog the limelight minus any competition. Since Salman has indeed become the cause celebre of this annual Carnival ( Literary Kumbh Mela), the issues raised by his absence have hi-jacked the Festival itself. Nobody could have anticipated this dramatic turn of events, least of all, the organizers who had invited Salman in good faith. The debate will continue long after the Festival ends , and the Jaipur Lit Fest 2012, will be remembered for all the wrong reasons. Salman will become the literary martyr who was ‘lied to’, and other authors who boldly read passages from the banned ‘Satanic Verses’, will get their muted wah wahs for ‘showing guts’. At least one of them , managed to flee to Bangkok fearing arrest. So much for ‘guts’. The others quickly packed their bags and left town. Salman Rushdie ‘Superstar’ will undoubtedly eat out on the story at other international Lit Fests, and everybody will eventually forget that the entire controversy was manufactured by politicians to serve their own purpose. The big question to ask is : will protesting writers boycott the Festival next year ? No chance! It has grown into such an attractive monster, most hungry writers would prefer to be devoured and consumed by it…. rather than be ignored and left out! But the ghost of Salman Rushdie will haunt the venue for years to come.

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The Big 'O' moment with Mumbai cops...

Blogdosts, I got back from the Jaipur Lit Fest late this evening. And no, I didn't attend THE session of the Fest - the one that led to a near stampede. People started to pour into the Diggi Palace grounds at 7 a.m. to grab their seats for the Oprah interaction ( she refused to take questions from the audience). By 10 a.m. all approach roads were sealed! I hear Oprah was at her scintillating best. And Barkha Dutt did a brilliant job of interviewing her. But I am a little puzzled - did Oprah really say, "This is my first and last trip to India?" to another journo? I had met Barkha at the totally amazing Penguin party the night before and asked her to throw that question to Oprah. Apparently, Oprah told Barkha she wants to come back to India again and again and again! So, honey.... which one is it??? Never again? Or again and again?
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This appeared in the Sunday Times today...

The Big ‘O’ leaves Mumbai cops cold!
Oprah spontaneously mopped the brow of a profusely sweating waiter with a napkin she’d grabbed from his tray… and followed that up with a warm hug. Onlookers thought the overwhelmed young man would faint there and then! He didn’t, but it was easy to conclude the magical ‘Oprah Effect’ had effortlessly claimed another lifelong fan! Her presence is indeed so powerful, so magnetic, it’s impossible not to get instantly drawn to her. It’s equally impossible not to blabber inanities, gush embarrassingly, take pictures, and generally carry on in a cringe-making manner that would shame teenage fans at a rock concert.Everyone wants a piece of Oprah. And here’s the surprising bit – Oprah wants a piece of everyone! It is this single and unique quality to engage with a complete stranger and make that person feel like family, that is the key to Oprah’s phenomenal global success.She calls herself ‘Everywoman’. But she is actually ‘Everyperson’. She doesn’t have to work the room. The room walks up to her. And when she throws back her head to laugh at yet another clumsy compliment, her laughter is genuine. Having got the gooey stuff out of the way, it’s time to get down to brass tacks. What exactly is Oprah doing in India (it’s her first trip, and it sure has taken her years to make it). Bluntly stated :She’s here to make money.Tap new markets. Recast herself in a brand new show titled Oprah’s Next Chapter.There’s a huge, immensely profitable constituency waiting to be exploited.She said she was planning a five hour special on the country. That’s a lot of footage. Television is a ravenously hungry beast. To feed five hours of crackling programming, Oprah would need ten times as much material. No dearth of that in our land. Especially for a really smart and extraordinarily dynamic businessperson who heads the world’s rich list for women. It is evident from her high energy levels that never seem to flag, that Oprah works 24x7. It’s a relentless pace , but as she put it, it’s love that keeps her going. Love for what she does. And she does that superbly well - better than any other tv personality on earth. Does she never tire of meeting people and hearing the same old, recycled, trite reactions? Never, she exclaims dramatically, adding, “It’s a new person every time.” Her delivery of the simplest lines is so emphatic and convincing, it does not encourage contradiction. Her own clichés (about the ‘great Indian family’, and how happy the poor in India are) expectedly, went unchallenged.
As Mumbai’s Most Wonderful swirled around the world’s most charismatic woman, frequently tripping over their vertiginous stilettos… and words… Oprah did not miss a trick.She took it all in, listening keenly, watching closely, absorbing, making mental notes. Occasionally, she called the attention of her minders and managers, while her competent crew filmed away.From Bollywood stars to Indian billionaires, they were happy to be in Oprah’s court.Mumbai did go unabashedly gaga over Winfrey! She looked at the sea of fashionistas clad in all-black and commented, “I was planning to wear black myself, but was told women don’t wear black in India.” Oh-oh. One factoid wrong! There goes the head of at least one researcher! She was also informed that unlike Tom Cruise whose handlers had to hire crowds when he arrived in Mumbai to promote his latest film, she was by far a bigger draw.Ouch! It was Tom who had ludicrously jumped up and down on Oprah’s couch to declare his love for Katie - making the cut as an unforgettable ‘Oprah Moment’! From a swishy soiree one glorious night, hosted by Parmeshwar Godrej at her magnificent seaside villa , to a walkabout through a sprawling slum the next day, Oprah sure had the taste of real Mumbai. But apart from the super celebrities of the city who glided up in droves to welcome Oprah, she also had the chance to encounter Mumbai’s asli bosses – our diligent cops! It was their moment to shine as they remained unimpressed and unmoved by the momentous occasion or the mega celebrity in their midst.There they were, pointedly standing their ground and refusing to budge from the beach where a stage had been erected for a performance in Oprah’s honour. Rules are rules, they insisted as they broke up the glamourous party after commenting dismissively, “ Yeh Oprah-Woprah kaun hai?”
Let’s call that a reality check. Knowing Oprah, she must have been amused…. and impressed! Perhaps it marked a first for a lady who we all believe has done it all and seen it all. At least, she’ll never forget Mumbai no matter where she goes in the world. Our adorable Pandu Havaldars have ensured just that!

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http://in.omg.yahoo.com/photos/oprah-drapes-sari-to-meet-ash-beti-b-1326785991-slideshow/oprah-bash-photo-1326788685.html

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Opr-aaaaah!

Met the most famous woman in the world at a smashing dinner party last night. Oprah Winfrey is all that she's cracked up to be - warm, engaging, human, witty.... AND a thorough professional. She is never off the job, even when she is being charming and sociable. Her mind is switched on even in her sleep - I'm sure. When she speaks to you, she is speaking to YOU! HER ATTENTION DOES NOT WAVER FOR A MICRO-SECOND.SHE IS ALL YOURS! Apart from the media frenzy that blocked the road leading up to the spectacular Godrej Villa, where India's supreme hostess Parmeshwar Godrej presided over a gathering of the mightiest and glitziest ( movie stars, tycoons) it was the near hysterical reaction of jaded, seasoned socialites falling over themselves, tripping over flowing gowns and sky high heels to pay homage to the empress of talk shows, that came as a bit of a shock. Did I have my 'Oprah moment'? Helllll, ya! Am I telling? Naaah.It was way too personal. Way too special.
I'm hoping to meet her again in Jaipur at the jewel of a Lit Fest that kicks off over the weekend. I'm there as a proud 'Penguin'. 25 years of Penguin Books in India is an impressive landmark. And for me, it's doubly meaningful, having been with the imprint from the very beginning. To mark the occasion, Penguin is re-issuing Popular Penguins - 25 of their most important titles. I am honoured and proud to have one of mine ("Starry Nights") included. It's a fabulous list - from M.K. Gandhi to Vikram Seth. From Jawaharlal Nehru to Arundhati Roy!
Congratulations, Penguin!!! Let the celebrations begin!!
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This appeared in Bombay Times today...

All the world’s their stage…

I have a sneaking admiration for committed theatrewallas. God knows how they do it… memorise dialogues running into pages and pages, rehearse endlessly for weeks, and finally go up on stage to perform in front of strangers they can make eye contact with. No retakes. No special effects. No 3-D gimmicks. No editing. If they goof up, they goof up. There’s no one around to yell, ‘cut’. There are no vanity vans on standby. And more often than not, there’s no money to be made for all that effort. It’s gotta be love! That much was pretty evident at the packed performance of Anish Trivedi’s ‘Famous Last Words’. A small, tight cast, ably helmed by the ravishing Dipika Roy ( who has also directed the comedy-thriller), kept the audience amused and tickled by their wonderful rapport and terrific sense of timing. It’s a slim and slight play which is fortunately devoid of any fake flourishes (‘Waiting for Godot’ gets its share of swipes and is described as ‘pretentious crap’). Anish, who plays a fading writer declared dead by his divorced wife ( too complicated to explain why in this space), boldly does a Salman Khan by going shirtless in a couple of scenes (“I’m half- naked in the play,” he’d stated recently, and got asked, “…. but, which half?”) Mercifully, he does not do a Ranbir Kapoor and drop his towel , which is just as well. The last time a stage actor flashed his buns on a Mumbai stage was over 30 years ago when Kabir Bedi opened Alyque Padamsee’s ‘Tughlaq’ dressed in nothing more modest than a bright red langot. In “Famous…” it is really Sahil Jaffrey, the fresh faced actor playing Ryan, who steals the show with his effortless, goofy portrayal of a flunkie. And, of course, there’s Amrita Puri, who adds angelic oomph to her Tanya by delivering yet another wide-eyed ingénue, babe-in-the-woods performance (the ‘Gujju from Gamdevi” as Sandy tartly describes her) . Dipika’s interpretation of Sandy, an ‘over- the- hill harridan’ is at once arch, cunning, sharp and sexy. But more than all of the above, what appealed to me the most was the way the credits listed out the contributions made by a host of people . This is a true mom-and-pop show, involving not just Dipika’s husband Bharat ( official photographer), daughter Ariana ( production assistant?), but also their domestic staff, drivers, and peons. Anish’s wife, Vineeta is billed as the costume designer (perhaps, it was she who persuaded Anish to let the towel stay in place?) What a lovely way to promote genuine inclusiveness and get everybody involved in this intimate enterprise. The only family member missing from the long list was Golly, the Kewalramanis’ handsome black Labrador. I am registering a strong protest on Golly’s behalf! Woof! Woof!
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Leonardo Di Caprio has been singularly unlucky when it comes to winning an Oscar after being nominated thrice. But if he is bypassed yet again this year after delivering a stupendous performance as J.Edgar Hoover, it will be a real shame. Clint Eastwood’s documentary style movie about the man who worked under eight American Presidents as the feared and loathed FBI Director for 37 long years (1935-1972), is not a brilliant film (in fact, it’s pretty boring). But Leo is brilliant. So is Judi Dench who plays his mother.The film would have worked better as a gay love story ( very powerful and moving) between Hoover and his long time Deputy, Clyde Tolson. But Eastwood preferred to make it a dull political biopic instead. Ah well… who cares, if Leo does win the elusive statuette he so richly deserves.



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