| THE AVIATOR |
 2004 - USA / Japan / Germany Director: Martin Scorsese
- Reviewed by Linda
But let's take a step back. For those unfamiliar with Howard Hughes, he was a very very rich young man who inherited his Texas tycoon father's billion-dollar fortune and rolled around in it while the rest of the country was standing in soup lines. In his early 20s, Hughes bankrolled the high-concept film Hell's Angels, which featured over 100 biplanes battling in the sky (this is where The Aviator begins), that ended up being by far the most expensive movie ever made at the time (hmmm... Titanic, anyone?). The extravaganza of his style made Hughes a star—not only in Hollywood, where he romanced starlets, but also in aviation, where he poured his money into bigger and faster experimental aircraft, which he often test-flew himself. But Hughes is also famous for being basically a lunatic. The film touches upon his obsessive-compulsiveness (for instance, where he washed his hands until they were raw and bleeding) as well as what would eventually be classified as schizophrenia. For part of the film, Hughes locks himself a screening room for months, pissing in milk bottles, wandering around naked with his hair and beard growing out, all the while maintaining control of his empire by making business deals through a closed door. The thing is, after The Aviator's timeline ends, Hughes famously got crazier... something about living holed-up in a Las Vegas hotel, with super-long toenails, and drug needles broken off in his wasted arms. So you can see that Hughes had a fascinating life ripe for a biographical film. But the problem is that all the exciting bits are broken up by check-your-watch-and-take-a-bathroom-break scenes. At almost three hours, your ass is numb by the end of the production. There is a fantastic crash sequence that is totally worthy of all the buzzing attention it has been given. But then there are scenes of business wheeling-and-dealing, for instance, that don't necessarily make for gripping cinema. Much fuss is made about Leo as Hughes romancing Cate Blanchett as the indomitable, great Katharine Hepburn. Give credit for Cate for even trying to tackle someone as super-famous and recognizable as Kate, but I was never sure if it was imitation, caricature, or actual acting. The audience twittered nervously at her first appearance, as Cate imitated Kate's famous crowing and warbling vocal-isms, with square jaw jutted upwards, haughtily and playfully. It took me many scenes to get used to her portrayal, and by the time I got used to Cate, Kate and Howard break up. Ah, well. None of the other starlets, played by Kate Beckinsale (as Ava Garder) and Gwen Stefani (as Jean Harlow) make much of an impression. The male costars fare marginally better, with Alan Alda having a wickedly fun time as the corrupt Senator Ralph Owen Brewster, and Alec Baldwin making his brief role as Juan Trippe, head honcho of Pan Am, memorable. The always fab John C. Reilly only makes small appearances, and Jude Law only appears long enough for you to point at the screen and say, "Hey! There's Jude Law!" The Aviator is big and bloated, just like the life of the man it portrays. There are enough interesting bits in the film that I found myself searching the internet and library to find out more about the elusive Howard Hughes. But then I wonder, perhaps that means that the movie, despite its length, didn't give me enough insight into the enigma that was Hughes? Even with all the screen time to absorb, I still felt a little empty-handed by the end. |
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Your enjoyment of The Aviator depends entirely on how you feel about The Leo Factor. Leonardo DiCaprio, love him or loathe him, is literally in almost every frame of Martin Scorsese's latest, a sprawling biopic about crazy billionaire/aviator/entrepeneur Howard Hughes. The film spans about 20 years, from the 1920s through the post-World War II 1940s, and the amazing thing is, except for a late-appearing moustache, Leo manages to look about 16 years old throughout the entire film. This is even despite a couple of very-close-up shots of Leo's crinkly 30-year-old, crow's-feet-lined eyes. But I wasn't fooled! At any second, I expected him to skip off into the distance with youthful boyishness, flailing his arms, and announcing he was King of the World (which he practically is, in this movie).
