Went to see the Aviator last night.
Martin Scorsese is one of few living and working directors whose name alone carries a weight of expectation and anticipation. Perhaps only Woody Allen, Spielberg or Tarantino have their names above the title in the same way and while recent work like Gangs of New York, Bringing Out the Dead, or Kundun have all been disappointing by his standards the kudos gained by the remarkable body of work produced in the 70s and 80s has remained more or less intact. Not so much "he's lost it" as "he's having an off day". It's a sad fact though that his off day has been going on for a while, his last few films have all contained enough of his inventiveness and character to 'feel' like a Scorsese movie, but if we're being honest he hasn't made anything worthy of his name since Casino, and that was ten years ago.
Given his historical leanings towards the seedier and violent side of American life focussed on in his most dazzling work like Raging Bull, Mean Streets, Taxi Driver and Goodfellas, a biopic of billionaire, movie mogul, pilot and mentalist Howard Hughes seems a strange choice. Hughes' life, which included affairs with Katherine Hepburn and Ava Gardner amongst many others, is - on the surface at least - one of glamour, wealth and Hollywood at its flamboyant best.
Scorsese treats Hughes' early life as one of admirable and cocky determination, a man so sure of his own abilities and decisions that he simply cannot take no for an answer - much like Henry Hill in Goodfellas. Opening with the epic production of the World War I flying ace flick Hell's Angels, Hughes badgers and berates his crew into trying to achieve what he can see in his head - he halts filming for months until the right kind of clouds turn up, or until he can get hold of another two cameras because he needs 26, not 24, for one particular shot.
It's here in the first third of the film that The Aviator feels more like a Spielberg gloss-fest than the down-and-dirty character studies we expect from Scorsese. The sky battles of Hell's Angels swoop into the camera as Hughes directs and conducts from the cockpit, and the silk and diamonds of the Coconut grove are reproduced faultlessly. Di Caprio plays arrogant like a spoilt child and sweeps about pointing, shouting, hiring and firing like someone who deosn't believe he can possibly be wrong about anything.
So far, so Chaplin, but the second half kicks into more familiar Scorsese territory and it's that which makes this a biopic of superior quality. Hughes' demons start to come through as his obsessive behaviour begins to take him over, first with cleanliness and then with paranoia. As he wrestles with himself, his business empire is crumbling around him and he is forced to pull himself back from the brink for a final face off with the Pan Am-funded senator determined to see Hughes' TWA out of business.
It is here that the more recognisable Scorsese can be seen. Hughes' self-imposed incarcaration within his screening room is a descent into madness that previous films like Taxi Driver and King of Comedy are ultimately about. Hughes watches the same scenes from his own films again and again, he fills endless milk bottles with urine which he is compelled to keep, and he dictates tiresome instructions as to how his food should be served - down to the 45 degree angle a bag of cookies must be held at.
Di Caprio is astonishing in this film, I've never been a fan but he has grown up in this role. He will always look around 14 years old and he has garnered some criticism for being too young for Hughes but it's a credit to his remarkable performance that this is forgotten. He preens when Hughes is at his height and most inventive but then as madness falls he resists the temptation to 'act mad' and instead lets us see the logic behind the madness as Hughes views it.
Di Caprio is in every scene of this movie and the "Scorsese has asked me to be in his film, yay!" parade of stars actually turns out to be distracting. Cate Blanchett is good as Hepburn and Kate Beckinsale gives an admirable impersonation of Ava Gardner but both are under used. Willem Defoe pops up for a two minute scene as a newspaper reporter, and Jude Law swaggers in as Erol Flynn but he's gone as quickly as he arrives. Given the names attached to this picture it is perhaps ironic that the only person holding his own is the superb Alan Alda as the corrupt senator bringing Hughes to task. But make no mistake, this is Di Caprio's film from beginning to end and he deserves the plaudits he will no doubt receive.
The Aviator is Scorsese's most blatant attempt at a mainstream movie and he's obviously been following the technical achievements of Spielberg to allow him to pull off the grand scale of much of this film. It's no Goodfellas, but it is his best film in ten years and maybe it signals the end of his off-day. It does suffer from the blight of all biopics in that it is too episodic in places and covers too much ground to ever really get into anything too indepth. But for a man as complicated as Hughes it's a fine attempt.
SCORE : 4/5
