The dichotomy of Howard Hughes' spectacular rise and epic fall has fueled sermons, books, plays and even an opera. Artists, academics and theologians have found all manner of signs and omens in his story. The Aviator chucks most of this in favor of a glamorous psychiatric case study. You could say The Aviator is A Beautiful Mind gone Hollywood without Mind's inspirational spine. In fact the greatest strength of The Aviator is the tale of Hughes epic struggle for his sanity. When the movie meanders to other concerns, such as his Hollywood dalliances or his business struggles, it loses focus.
The Aviator assumes the audience has a familiarity with Hughes and his world. If you don't know he died a wizened gargoyle after years of madness and seclusion much of the impact of the movie will be lost to you. The Aviator follows Hughes' life from the late 1920's to the 1940's from the start of his production career and ending with the first and only flight of the Spruce Goose. Director Martin Scorsese stops short of showing us the wreckage of Hughes' final years to let our collective knowledge add the requisite shadow over the glamorous proceedings of the film.
The Aviator is hampered by bad casting choices starting with Leonardo DiCaprio as Hughes. DiCaprio is a gifted actor and he does a splendid job suggesting Hughes' genius and creeping madness. However DiCaprio cannot summon the weight or authority needed to play the ruthless tycoon Hughes becomes. His scenes in front of a Senate sub-committee are particularly bad. He comes across like a sophomore sassing the dean. Cate Blanchett, as Katharine Hepburn, fares worse. Her resemblance to Hepburn is minimal at best and she does not begin to approximate Hepburn's vocal rhythms. While Blanchett gets better towards the end when she all but drops Hepburn's mannerisms, in total her performance was distracting. The actors in less recognizable roles fare better. Particular standouts were John C. Reilly as Hughes' long suffering factotum and Ian Holm as a beleaguered meteorology professor.
Hughes' business rivals are portrayed as outright villains, which is indicative of the curious take the film has on Hughes' career. The Aviator posits the incredibly rich and autocratic Hughes as a proletarian rebel who takes on "The System" and beats it by being brilliant, brave and handsome. We even have a scene where Hughes, after spending millions like water, lectures Hepburn's eccentrically aristocratic family on the value of money to those who have none. While it strains credulity to hear the future darling of the Nixon administration wax Marxist, the shocked look on the horrible Hepburns is undeniably satisfying.
The Aviator is one of those films best appreciated on the big screen. It is an absolutely gorgeous movie. The flying scenes in particular are spectacular and the crashes horrific enough to make us understand their effect on the already unstable Hughes. While The Aviator may not be on par with the best of Scorsese, the power of Hughes' tragedy is exceptionally well delivered and serves to drive the movie through its occasional doldrums.
The Aviator assumes the audience has a familiarity with Hughes and his world. If you don't know he died a wizened gargoyle after years of madness and seclusion much of the impact of the movie will be lost to you. The Aviator follows Hughes' life from the late 1920's to the 1940's from the start of his production career and ending with the first and only flight of the Spruce Goose. Director Martin Scorsese stops short of showing us the wreckage of Hughes' final years to let our collective knowledge add the requisite shadow over the glamorous proceedings of the film.
The Aviator is hampered by bad casting choices starting with Leonardo DiCaprio as Hughes. DiCaprio is a gifted actor and he does a splendid job suggesting Hughes' genius and creeping madness. However DiCaprio cannot summon the weight or authority needed to play the ruthless tycoon Hughes becomes. His scenes in front of a Senate sub-committee are particularly bad. He comes across like a sophomore sassing the dean. Cate Blanchett, as Katharine Hepburn, fares worse. Her resemblance to Hepburn is minimal at best and she does not begin to approximate Hepburn's vocal rhythms. While Blanchett gets better towards the end when she all but drops Hepburn's mannerisms, in total her performance was distracting. The actors in less recognizable roles fare better. Particular standouts were John C. Reilly as Hughes' long suffering factotum and Ian Holm as a beleaguered meteorology professor.
Hughes' business rivals are portrayed as outright villains, which is indicative of the curious take the film has on Hughes' career. The Aviator posits the incredibly rich and autocratic Hughes as a proletarian rebel who takes on "The System" and beats it by being brilliant, brave and handsome. We even have a scene where Hughes, after spending millions like water, lectures Hepburn's eccentrically aristocratic family on the value of money to those who have none. While it strains credulity to hear the future darling of the Nixon administration wax Marxist, the shocked look on the horrible Hepburns is undeniably satisfying.
The Aviator is one of those films best appreciated on the big screen. It is an absolutely gorgeous movie. The flying scenes in particular are spectacular and the crashes horrific enough to make us understand their effect on the already unstable Hughes. While The Aviator may not be on par with the best of Scorsese, the power of Hughes' tragedy is exceptionally well delivered and serves to drive the movie through its occasional doldrums.