Reviewed by Neil Davey
Stars Angelina Jolie, John Malkovich, Gattlin Griffith, Michael Kelly, Jeffrey Donocan, Colm Feore, John Harrington, Jason Butler Harner, Amy Ryan, Devon Conti
Written by J Michael Straczynski
Certification UK 15 | US R
Runtime 141 minutes
Directed by Clint Eastwood
Focusing on the positives, Changeling should secure Angelina Jolie another nomination for an acting Oscar. Having been so ridiculously denied one for A Mighty Heart, the woman’s due another nod and this powerful true tale, of a single mother fighting for justice for herself and her missing son, should help her case. It should also shut up anyone who’s still of the opinion that Jolie’s career is based on the more obvious physical attributes. That’s part of it, but she has the chops to back up the lips. Unfortunately, her blistering performance is the best thing in Clint Eastwood’s faltering Changeling and you’ll be longing for something to balance it long before the end credits.
Jolie is Christine Collins, a supervisor at the LA telephone exchange in 1928. Christine is devoted to her son Walter (Griffith). She’s dedicated, hard working – and ripped apart when he goes missing. Five months later, following a nationwide search, the police reunite her with Walter. Only it’s not Walter. It’s a boy claiming to be Walter. The LAPD, desperate for some good PR at a time they’re being justifiably lambasted, refuses to accept Christine’s word, calling in medical experts to explain how this new lad could be shorter than the real son, or suddenly circumcised. When that doesn’t shut Christine up, they have her thrown into a psychiatric ward.
At this point, you’ll be railing at the injustice, and blown away by the story, Eastwood’s direction and the period detail. Shortly afterwards though, with the discovery of LA’s worst ever serial killer (Harner), what should have continued to be a great story of injustice and a woman fighting for her rights, turns into fine upstanding citizen versus psycho out of central casting. Many of the problems lie with the script. Jolie does what she can but has sides that apparently repeat “he’s not my son!” every 30 seconds or so, and that’s possibly the best dialogue in the piece. Eastwood also drags out the ending, milking the emotion and tugging on the heartstrings, an irrelevant, unnecessary gesture for a director of his calibre, particularly when couple to a story so gut-wrenching.