Flying High

The first hour of The Aviator sure feels like Martin Scorsese having a total blast. Scorsese's recreation of Howard Hughes' difficulties making Hell's Angels to his (Hughes') exacting standards is probably the closest to a biographical depiction of Scorsese himself at work that Scorsese will ever create. This section of The Aviator is joyous fun - a sensation that I haven't felt in a Marty film since Casino. While I thought Gangs of New York was easily the best film of 2002, I freely admit that Scorsese lived with the material for a tad too long. That film did not have the passion that this one does, but The Aviator lacks the weight of that previous film. After all, most people who complained about Gangs felt it should have been longer, while The Aviator feels as if it could have a few minutes trimmed here and there. But never once does it stop cold or disappoint - thanks in large part to a truly excellent performance by Leonardo DiCaprio. He communicates Hughes' passion (and indirectly Scorsese's) with an intensity that is contagious. Be it for aviation, filmmaking, engineering, or women (or total mental collapse) - the intensity of Hughes' feelings can be seen in DiCaprio's determined blue eyes. Later in the film when the man is suffering from a variety of health problems, DiCaprio gets the physical aspects of the symptoms perfectly. When Kate Beckinsale as Ava Gardner pushes a frail Hughes down during a fight, he falls with the slow-motion awkwardness that in lesser hands would play as unintentional comedy. DiCaprio's only on-screen foil is the spooky talented Cate Blanchett (as I wrote before about Peter Sarsgaard - is there anything she can't do?) who embodies Katharine Hepburn without ever impersonating her. Her lust for life matches Hughes' and their courtship - which the film covers right after the Hell's Angels sequences makes for one of the most entertaining love stories of the year. The Aviator is a rousing entertainment that does not shy away from the dark truth and horrors of Hughes' life. The film follows the familiar pattern set forth for biopics from the beginning of the genre's history, but it ends on a minor chord - not flinching from the essential horror of what will occur. The end is Marty's tribute to Apocalypse Now.

Later: A review of Meet the Fokkers and a few words about the independent film this year that least deserved its comparatively massive success.