Dir. Martin Scorsese, 2004, USA, 169 mins
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett, John C. Reily
The Aviator charts the early and astoundingly productive years of aviation's most daring, far-sighted pioneers, Howard Hughes. It's a chapter in his life that, until now, has remained untouched by filmmakers. With past biopics it's only ever been his later years, those that saw him self-quarantined in his Las Vegas penthouse wearing tissue boxes for shoes that have received attention. By and large, the world's knowledge of this, America's true pin-up of that dream they're so obsessed with, is restricted to such images. But before Hughes became entirely engulfed by his then un-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder, he was a record-breaking pilot, a world-class engineer, wooer of Hollywood's most glamorous stars and a director of films, films that broke barriers, just like the planes he designed and flew.
The Aviator is a film long-time coming for its star and producer Leonardo DiCaprio. Since reading Hughes' biography almost a decade ago, DiCaprio has been chasing this project with an obsession akin - though more the creative than destructive side - to that of his character:
"In that great search as an actor to find [.] characters, I stumbled upon this book. And I guess you could use the word obsessed, I became obsessed about wanting to play him. [.] It's like a test case for what happens when you give a man everything in the world and he fulfils all his dreams while simultaneously becoming more and more mad by his own mental illness. So yes, I suppose you could say I was obsessive about playing him."
To say the least, this obsession has paid off. His portrayal of Hughes is remarkable; the most complete, and without doubt best performance of his career. The intensity he's brought to the role is almost shocking. So clearly is he immersed in the personality of Hughes that it's near impossible to recognize any trace of the one-time 'King of the world'. Scenes such as those that see Hughes' OCD truly begin to take control, forcing him into self-imposed isolation in his screening room, where he cowers in the shadows of his 'demons', ultimately fighting a loosing battle, display a truly incredible actor; arguably the most focused since DeNiro or Pacino. The performance is at once sensitive and hard. It's a mesmerizing take on one of American history's most deeply enigmatic figures, thus proving that, having lost his way somewhere between What's Eating Gilbert Grape? and Titanic, one of today's great talents has finally returned.
But, while he is undoubtedly the crown jewel of The Aviator's cast, DiCaprio is by no means the only star to shine in Martin Scorsese's latest project. Taking on the role of one of Hughes' many, and possibly most significant love interests, Katherine Hepburn, is Cate Blanchett. In doing so, Blanchett has taken a step away from the various period dramas that she's so far gravitated towards. Here, she proves once more, as with Elizabeth and Charlotte Gray before, that she is Australia's most engaging actress. She brings to her role the famously refined quality that permeates all of her work, and so adds an extra depth to the presence of Hepburn, who, raised as a true-blue Yankee, stood out amongst the era's other, more extravagant actresses. The effect is one of subtle layering, for we are shown a Hepburn who, while known for her ability to 'rough it with the boys' - a character trait which comes across as fundamental to her relationship with Hughes - also possesses a tenderness of startling beauty.
Other fine performances include that of Oscar nominated John C. Reily (Chicago), whose portrayal of Noah Dietrich, Hughes' right-hand man, holds the same well-balanced objectivity that has made him one of Hollywood's finest character actors. He's joined by Kate Beckinsale, who captures the alluring, yet strangely macho Ava Gardner impeccably, and in doing so lends her career the credibility not gained through films like Pearl Harbor or Underworld.
The script comes from the pen of John Logan (Gladiator), part of a rare breed of screen-writer that seem to have the ability to mix gripping, authentic drama with the grand scale of a blockbuster. Recognizing the impossibility of filming every aspect of a life so full of achievements, trials and tribulations as Hughes', Logan has focused on fundamental components from each of his subject's endeavours: the production of Hell's Angels, the crashing of his XF-11 spy plane, his relationships with Hepburn and Ava Gardner (played admirably by Kate Beckinsale). Though there was so much more to Hughes than what we're shown in the picture, it feels complete, which is a credit to Logan, who could quite easily have stretched the scope of his story so thin as to make it transparent. "The sparseness of Logan's writing," suggests Scorsese, "what he left out in the life story, gives resonance to the scenes that exist within the script. "The result of this approach is a version of Hughes who, while fully realized, still leaves us panting for more.
So when you're dealing with a figure of such complex design, who better to take on the task of bringing him back to life than one of the 20th century's most iconic directors. When asked at a recent press conference how he went about understanding Hughes' obsession with perfection, Scorsese replied: "The way John Logan wrote Howard Hughes in his prime, the visionary obsessed with speed, I understand that, the drive to make the picture right. He had all the money in the world, I don't. But I've been lucky over the years to have crews with me and some studio people who have been determined to make it right and go right down the hill with it."
The Aviator is perhaps his most subdued work for some time. When you hold it up against Gangs of New York for instance, there's clear that he's chosen to reign-in some of the techniques so characteristic of his style - not to mention a severe reduction in cringingly sentimental, sometimes corny moments. There is, for example, a marked reduction in his well-known use of gliding tracking shots, which works wonderfully in the film's favour, as you might otherwise be paying more attention to Scorsese's visuals than the story of Hughes. This isn't to say, of course, that as an audience we aren't treated to some wonderfully sumptuous aesthetics. Indeed, sequences such as those taking place in the world-famous Cocoanut Grove are sprawling homages to the Art Deco fashion of the time; wonderfully recreated in pain-staking detail, they leave you almost slack-jawed with wonder. Another inspired choice on Scorsese's part is his decision to progress through the film via three separate colour pallets, gradually shifting from one to the next. Beginning with a digital reproduction of the original 2-strip Technicolor method, first employed during the late 1920's, he then introduces 3-strip, finally ending with a pallet more in-tune with current methods. Not only does this technique lend the film a deliciously warm aesthetic, it also acts as a bridge from one movie era to the next, so that, while the majority of the action concentrates on Hughes' endeavours in the world of aviation, we're still kept in touch with his motion-picture involvement. The Aviator also sees Scorsese's most significant use of computer-generated imagery. His seamless combining of live-action, CGI and miniatures creates a historical view of Hollywood's golden era so accurate that it's near impossible not to find yourself believing it's still out there. It's fantastic to see a film were the utilization of CGI holds a truly character-driven purpose, rather than simply being a desperate plea for attention.
All in all, The Aviator is Scorsese's best and most realized film since Goodfellas, and perhaps even Raging Bull ; in fact, the final scene is distinctly reminiscent of the latter, leaving us with a similar feeling of mixed emotions and foreboding. And one can't help but feel this is a direct result of working with DiCaprio. Perhaps, after so many years, Scorsese has found an actor who inspires him as much as DeNiro once did, and if this is the case, let's hope The Aviator doesn't mark the end of their collaborations.
Frazer Ash
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