The Aviator

Well it's time for the next review, though this time it's not just a singular review, but the start of a special season of films. As I talked about at the start of the year there were a number of directors I had thought of as possibly being the subject of particular seasons. One such person was Martin Scorsese.

Up until this year I had only seen a handful of Scorsese's films (4 to be exact) and had yet to find one I really liked or cared about. That despite the fact I had watched perhaps his three most acclaimed films (Taxi Driver, Goodfellas and Raging Bull). It's not that I thought they were bad films but they just didn't appeal to me on a personal level. I was turned off by their bleak, harsh, macho approach and just couldn't take to any of them, while Goodfellas' standing as a gangster flick certainly didn't help as it's a genre I have pretty much zero interest in. Considering how highly thought of he is around here and in movie cirlces in general however I thought it was about time I took a more expansive look at his work, particularly those that seemed like they would be more to my tastes

So here we go. Welcome to JayDee Does Marty (I can't see any problems with that title, certainly no possibility of it being interpreted as some kind of sexual innuendo! )










Plot - Set within the era spanning the late-1920s to the mid-1940s this biopic depicts the early years of Howard Hughes (DiCaprio); legendary film director, aviator and businessman. Starting in 1927 with the notorious production of Hughes' passion project, Hell's Angels, the film culminates in 1947 with the test flight of the illustrious Spruce Goose. In the intervening 20 years we see the various famous luminaries that he was romantically involved with; including Katherine Hepburn (Blanchett) and Ava Gardner (Beckinsale), his acquisition and expansion of TWA Airlines, his incredible feats in the world of aviation, his clashes with Congress and his struggles with obsessive compulsive disorder which rendered him a recluse.

The Aviator is a very classy offering from Martin Scorsese, one that has many factors contributing to its success which I will get on to. However when it comes to biopics, no matter how much quality there is in every other aspect of the production, very often they will live and die on the strength of the performer who is inhabiting the subject of the film, in this case Howard Hughes. Even if everything else about a film is of the highest calibre, if it doesn't have an actor capable of convincingly bringing the character back to life then it's on a hiding to nothing. Fortunately The Aviator is on solid ground in this respect as it features a terrific turn from Leonardo DiCaprio as Hughes. Right from the off he captures Hughes' charisma and swagger with ease, while at the same time conveying a undercurrent of anger that hints at his later problems. As the years roll by we see a transformation slowly take over him; the façade of the once brash whippersnapper begins to crack, and other, less savoury characteristics begin to emerge. His levels of obsession heighten, he is struck by crippling bouts of paranoia, he becomes very possessive of the women in his life and in general he just does not seem at all comfortable in his own skin. More than perhaps any other facet of DiCaprio's performance I was really impressed with his physical acting. At one point during the protracted production of Hell's Angels we just see the incredible physical drain that the undertaking is having on his face and body. Later on in the film when he has become this twitchy, nervous wreck we will then see a subtle, but major, difference in him when he is in the presence of Katharine Hepburn or concentrating on aviation; all of a sudden he just comes to life, the old Hughes returns and he is so much more at ease. There was a small, but great little moment where he is overseeing one of his creations for the very first time and there is just this fantastic glint in his eye. And even when you think Hughes is a broken man, DiCaprio is able to drag himself back up and put on the display of a great showman at the Congress hearing.

The nature of a biopic means that by design it is customarily only going to focus on a solitary character more than a 'normal' film would. So it's a pleasant surprise that the film manages to deliver an additional examination of a character in the form of Cate Blanchett's Katherine Hepburn. The character is not given a great deal of exposure but through a combination of strong writing and Blanchett's excellent performance we are still given a fair degree of insight into her. We initially see her as this brash, ballsy seductress who just oozes with self-assurance; a real spunky ball of fire. As time goes on however the mask begins to slip and we see a more vulnerable and troubled edge to her. In fact that's something that comes into the film later on and is commentated on by Hughes, she seems to be putting on a performance much of the time, whether it be for him or her family. The line between who she really is and her on screen persona has become blurred. At the same time we see her despondency at being ignored while by Hughes' side. Previously one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, playing second fiddle to her man does not sit well with her, as we witness when they attend a première together and the media have eyes only for him despite her best fawning alongside. Together she and DiCaprio have a vibrant chemistry as these two unconventional characters who seemed to be the closest they came to finding an equal, with Hepburn at one point telling him, "Howard, we're not like everyone else. Too many sharp angles. Too many eccentricities. We have to be very careful not to let people in or they'll make us into freaks."

While it may be DiCaprio that commands your attention and Blanchett that scooped an Oscar, The Aviator actually features incredible talent throughout its cast. Even down to the most minor of roles you still find some very talented and experienced actors; individuals like Jude Law, Willem Dafoe and Brent Spiner in what amounts to little more than a cameo. As Hughes' two main adversaries, both Alec Baldwin and Alan Alda prove to be great value as Juan Trippe and Senator Owen Brewster respectively. They both revel in their roles as smug, smarmy pieces of s*it, with Alda in particular shining, so much so that it earned him an Oscar nomination in the Best Supporting Actor category. Further support comes from the likes of Ian Holm and John C. Reilly. While I'm aware that others were taken by her performance I was not quite as impressed with Kate Beckinsale and her attempts to impersonate another of the era's great screen dames, Ava Gardner. Given little to work with she failed to make any impact on me whatsoever, coming across as one of the few misfires of the entire film.

The Aviator has a running time that surpasses the two-and-a-half hour mark, making it a very epic and lengthy undertaking. And yet very rarely does it ever feel like it, particularly in its opening hour. Hughes' fascinating life obviously plays a part in this, as does DiCaprio's magnetic performance. Beyond that though there are numerous other factors at work. A combination of slick editing and directing guarantees that the film moves along with great speed and vibrancy, a sensation heightened by the use of very lively, up-tempo jazz on Howard Shore's score that just makes the film feel like a very breezy experience. On top of this Scorsese also intersperses other visual sources to keep the film interesting and moving along; archive footage, newsreel footage and scenes from Hughes' old films. And even on the rare occasion where the film may hit a slight lull, DiCaprio is always there to make sure it stays on track.

A strong factor in the film's success is John Logan's Oscar-nominated script which I thought was excellent. I found it to be especially impressive during the film's first hour. Howard Hughes led such an incredible life, so much so that even a trilogy of films dedicated solely to him may not be enough to tackle every notable aspect in detail. Given that fact, trying to work out how exactly to tackle a biopic of his life is a tricky task, especially when it comes to the question of where do you start. It's at this point that Logan makes an inspired choice to structure the first hour or so of the film around the lengthy and infamous production of Hughes' epic war film, Hell's Angels. It forces a focus upon a film which could very easily have become lost amongst the incident-packed blur that was his life. It gives Scorsese something to hang his hook on and ensures that the film gets off on a solid footing. Concentrating on the production also allows us to see every aspect of his character at work. We see Hughes' great ambition and passion, we see his attention to detail which runs to an almost obsessive degree, we see his imagination and we see his great conviction in himself; on the other side of the coin however we also see his stubbornness, his reckless decisions, his inclination to just throw money at any problem. As the production rumbles on, the film begins to drops in other threads that become factors; the bevy of beautiful women that enter and exit his life, his battles with Congress and the hints of the psychological torments that are soon to plague him. If there would be one flaw I'd level at the script, and indeed at the film at large, is that it perhaps fails to really get under the skin of Howard Hughes, never showing us what exactly made him tick. Beyond the brief prologue where we see his mother planting the seeds of compulsion in his mind as a kid, Hughes remains something of an enigma.

One of my favourite aspects of The Aviator is its very rich evocation of a particular time, in this instance the decades surrounding cinema's Golden Age; Scorsese really does a fantastic job at recapturing the glitz and glamour of old Hollywood. The scenes that take place either at film premières or at the legendary Cocoanut Grove nightclub are particular joys. They are just such lavish affairs, with the costume and art departments really going to town on the attire and set dressing. And Scorsese apes these details for all they're worth, keeping his camera constantly on the move, scanning across the Cocoanut Grove to highlight the vastness of the set and to cram in as many furs, mink coats, sequin cocktail dresses and tuxedos as possible. Another very interesting aspect of the film's look is to be found in the cinematography of Robert Richardson. While I was instantly struck by the striking use of bold, hyper-realised colours it took a little while to click with me what exactly their intention was. It was only when the greens of the golf course and fields appeared as shades of blue that I realised Scorsese was attempting to mimic the colour techniques and visual appearance of films from those eras, namely Cinecolor and Technicolor. It's a nice little touch that just adds an extra layer to proceedings. There are also a few other unique and eye-catching tricks including some very theatrical uses of lighting, bringing darkness down all around except for a spotlight which falls on Hughes and an unnatural bright light that falls upon Blanchett's Hepburn as we see her angelic nature through his eyes.

In that first hour Scorsese seems to just be having an absolute ball playing around with his camera, imbuing the film with a very playful, light touch. He doesn't shy away however when things become more dramatic, if anything he comes into his element and delivers some captivating images. Amongst these is arguably the film's most thrilling sequence, a spectacular set-piece detailing the plane crash that nearly took Hughes' life and had a supremely detrimental impact upon his mental well-being. Test-flying a new aircraft in the skies above Beverly Hills, one of the engines malfunctions and he plummets to the ground, tearing through the surrounding homes. These days with the slew of action films, CGI-fests and superhero movies in cinemas, explosions and crashes are ten-a-penny. Scorsese makes this one stand out however and really makes us feel the intense pain Hughes is experiencing; we see him being tossed around the cockpit like a rag doll, bouncing back and forth of his glass surroundings, and then when he attempts to exit we get this nasty sizzling as his hands touch upon the burning plane.

While that is certainly the most spectacular scene in the film, there are a handful of other smaller images that carry a great depth to them. There's a terrific scene at the première of Hell's Angels where we see Hughes getting completely overwhelmed by the chaotic reception that greets him, the clambering of fans and the frantic flashes of paparazzi cameras causing him to grimace and recoil. As he walks the red carpet he finds himself treading on a floor of discarded flash bulbs, shattering underfoot. The scene is a strong analogy for the strain that Hughes felt once he had been pushed into the spotlight. There's also a striking moment towards the film's conclusion when it seems like Howard has been completely broken by his compulsions. Lying naked on the floor of the screening room that has become his refuge/dungeon, images from Hell's Angels are projected upon him, with his bare back acting as a makeshift screen. The images are that of the expansive dogfights, and as they dance across his naked back it's difficult not to see it as a metaphor for the internal battle that he is struggling with. During those sequences in his screening room there's also some clever lighting in evidence, with the blinking red light bulb of the studio covering Hughes in swathes of red light that come across very much like a warning of the danger that he the character is in psychologically.

While I think that most people will find the scenes detailing Hughes' descent into madness to be fairly uncomfortable because of Di Caprio's powerful performance, I personally found them to be an extremely tough watch. As someone who suffers from OCD, seeing it presented in such a strong, graphic nature on the screen I found to be very unsettling. My condition is thankfully not that close to the extremes that Hughes reaches, but with OCD being a progressive disorder I do worry about what I may be like one day in the future. And I was able to see myself in the character at times, such as the moments where he repeats phrases over and over again (“show me all the blueprints” and “way of the future”) as that is something I actually do, repeating phrases and saying things to myself until they sound 'just right.' So those instances, the scene where he can't open the bathroom door and the stretch where he has been reduced to urinating in jars I found very unsettling and painful to watch. But it did create a more personal link to the film that resonated with me.

Conclusion - Business tycoon. Aviator. Engineer. Movie director and producer. Romancer of many famous women. Recluse. Howard Hughes was a truly fascinating, one-of-a-kind individual. So trying to construct a film to do justice to such an iconic figure was always going to be a big ask, but one that Scorsese pulled off in extravagant style. The Aviator is a grand, prestige picture that brings Hughes' story to life thanks to a great script, imaginative direction, striking photography and some excellent performances.