Changeling

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Set in LA, 1928, Changeling's true story sees Angelina Jolie's single mother put through hell when she returns home from work one day to find her nine-year-old son missing. Five nail-biting months later and the LAPD, under the guidance of Capt. Jones (Donovan), proudly announce that they've found him. Jolie, however, is adamant that this new boy is not her son: he doesn't look like him, he's three inches shorter and he's circumcised. Desperate for good press, the LAPD pressure her into accepting this interloper but Jolie knows different and, with the help of John Malkovich's pastor, is determined to get to the bottom of it. From the vastly overrated Million Dollar Baby to the messy double of Flags Of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima, it's becoming increasingly obvious for a while now that Clint Eastwood is losing his grasp on what makes a story work. The director asks the audience to forget important plot points he was at pains to get across earlier in the film; the Dentist, whose dental records confirm that the boy is not Jolie's son, and the teacher, who swears that her new student is not her old one, are introduced and then conveniently disappear from the film, only to reappear when needed. The only reason for this is that if they play an important part in the plot, which their respective information dictates they should, there wouldn't be a story to tell. And what a long story it is. Actually, the story is quite short but the director's infuriating reluctance to call time would test anyone's patience. Eastwood, for a reason known only to himself, takes another hour to end the film, 'treating' the audience to epilogue after epilogue after epilogue. The opening hour doesn't hint at its messy and convoluted counterpart, though, as Eastwood delivers a decent Twilight Zone episode, playing with the audience and challenging their perceptions on what they see – is Jolie right or is she losing her mind? A great story badly told, then.