With a cloche – and accompanying flapper garb – obscuring her gaunt frame, a hysterical Angelina Jolie is the main focus of Clint Eastwood’s latest film Changeling, marking the second time that Eastwood has adopted the perspective of a determined female protagonist rebelling against a male-dominated society, following 2004’s “Million Dollar Baby.” And yet, for all of Ms. Jolie’s – and the film’s – sartorial splendor, this puzzling period piece will not continue Mr. Eastwood’s impressive run of late-career pictures.

A thematic companion piece of sorts to Eastwood’s “Mystic River,” Changeling is based on the infamous “Wineville Chicken Murders” – one of the earliest acts of serial killing in American history. In 1928, single mother Christine Collins (Jolie) and her 10-year-old son Walter are inseparable, and share a nice little house in a quiet Los Angeles suburb. Ms. Collins works as a telephone-company supervisor overseeing numerous female operators as they connect calls at a giant switchboard – she uses roller-skates to work her way down the line in a splendid little set piece. One day when Christine returns home from work, she discovers her beloved Walter has vanished, and because of a stupid police policy in which a person must be missing for 24 hours to file a missing persons report, the search for Walter is fruitless. Five months later, Christine is informed by the authoriies that her son has been found in Illinois. The corrupt LAPD, desperate for some positive publicity, arranges for tons of eager news reporters to capture Christine and Walter’s reunion at the train station, but, as soon as the little boy steps onto the platform, Christine knows this isn’t her kid. Mom, Interrupted…

The police, headed by Capt. J.J. Jones (Jeffrey Donovan), and the little boy insist otherwise, despite alarming physical evidence – height, dental… foreskin – to the contrary. This whole ordeal, naturally, frustrates the hell out of Christine, whose repeated shrieks of, “He’s not my son!” eventually land her in the psych ward for her alleged delusion. Here is where the story starts to steadily lose its focus, as the action transforms into a “Yellow Wallpaper”-esque commentary on the rampant misogyny in the 1920s neurological profession.

Seizing an opportunity, crusading radio evangelist, the Rev. Gustav Briegleb (John Malkovich), who’s got a bone to pick with the corrupt LAPD, led by Chief James E. Davis (Colm Feore), latches onto the case, and demands Ms. Collins’ release. On the other side of town, a scared boy in his early teens tearfully tells what seems like the only incorruptible cop, Det. Lester Ybarra (Michael Kelly), about the horrific murders of kidnapped boys he forcefully participated in with his deranged uncle Gordon Northcott (Jason Butler Harner), out in the desert. What follows is the intercutting of a murder trial and a landmark City Hall hearing, that hope to grant Christine a sense of closure.

Eastwood’s film intends to be another one of those great critiques of L.A. political corruption in the vein of “Chinatown” or “L.A. Confidential,” but falls woefully short. Unlike those films, the characters of Changeling are entirely black-and-white, robbing the film of any mystery or suspense. The only gray in the film comes courtesy of the picture’s blue/grey tint, creating a dreary atmosphere that further robs the film of the necessary juxtaposition between the scenic L.A. setting, and the seedy corruption that lies beneath it. Oh – and J. Michael Straczynski’s screenplay is so episodic and esoteric that over its 141-minute running time, it’s hard to become engrossed in Christine’s uphill struggle for female empowerment and political justice.

As in last year’s “A Mighty Heart,” Ms. Jolie plays a grieving woman who has lost her nearest and dearest companion, in what seems like an obvious Oscar-courting role. But like that film, where Jolie sported tinted-dark skin and a curly wig, viewers may again have trouble divorcing the character from Ms. Jolie’s omnipresent public persona. After all, the world’s de facto Madonna/Earth Mother’s adoption exploits have by now degenerated into a Hollywood punch line, so seeing her frantically grieve over her kidnapped child will undoubtedly test one’s escapist faculties. And, while Ms. Jolie’s portrait of a motherly hysteria is nothing short of convincing, it’s also repetitive. If Changeling develops any sort of pop-culture currency, one could foresee a drinking game in which college students take a shot every time Ms. Jolie shrieks, “HE’S NOT MY SON!” Fortunately for Mr. Eastwood and Ms. Jolie, the Oscar-courting film doesn’t leave too strong an impression.

Changeling opens on October 31st in theaters nationwide.