Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes, The Aviator

THE AVIATOR (2004)

Direction: Martin Scorsese
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett, Kate Beckinsale, Alan Alda, Alec Baldwin, Kelli Garner, Gwen Stefani, Ian Holm, Adam Scott, Frances Conroy, Willem Dafoe, Jacob Davich, Jude Law, John C. Reilly, Edward Herrmann, Stanley DeSantis, Danny Huston, Matt Ross
Screenplay: John Logan

Oscar Movies

Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes, The Aviator

WHAT'S NOT GOOD FOR THE SPRUCE GOOSE. . .

Imagine Citizen Kane directed by Steven Spielberg. The final result would look something like a Barry Levinson film — for instance, the superficial and glitzy Bugsy. Or, an even more appropriate example, the superficial, glitzy, and bloated The Aviator. Except, of course, that Levinson is not the man responsible for the mega-production starring Leonardo DiCaprio as the eccentric, billionaire ladies' man Howard Hughes. Strangely enough, that man is Martin Scorsese, the director of hard-hitting films such as Taxi Driver, Goodfellas, and Gangs of New York.

Scorsese, a fan of Old Hollywood, apparently wanted to have some fun with the nine-figure
budget available for his latest opus. The director no doubt had a ball while making The Aviator, but whether he was able to impart that joie de filmmaking to most moviegoers is debatable.

Clocking at 169 minutes, The Aviator tries to stay aloft, but like Hughes' much-too-big and much-too-heavy Spruce Goose (aka The Hercules), this cinematic jumbo can only keep itself on air for a few minutes at a time. Central miscasting, a yearning to turn the conflicted protagonist into a (somewhat) conventional film hero, and an excess of glitz (so we won't notice the story's lack of substance) bring The Aviator down each time after takeoff.
Scorsese and screenwriter John Logan begin their tale by having us witness the boy Howard Hughes (Jacob Davich), after finishing his bath, being dried by his strange mom (Amy Sloan). That moment comes across as a simplistic and, really, unnecessary "explanation" for the adult Hughes' obsession with the opposite sex. Things don't get much more shaded after that.

By the late 1920s, Jacob Davich has grown into Leonardo DiCaprio, who happens to be one of the best actors around, but who looks like he would be more comfortable starring in "The Orson Welles Story." Although DiCaprio's performance in and of itself is flawless, he simply doesn't look the part of the up-and-coming movie magnate and inveterate seducer. When paired with Cate Blanchett's (absurdly mannered) Katharine Hepburn, for instance, DiCaprio looks like her overgrown adopted son. He's just as helpless next to Kate Beckinsale's Ava Gardner and Kelli Garner's Faith Domergue.

Not helping matters, Logan's screenplay fails to delve into Howard Hughes' intricate psyche. As a result, it's mystifying to see how Hughes could be a hypochondriacal freak — e.g., even afraid of touching door handles lest he catch a bug — while at the same time be ever so willing to exchange bodily fluids with stars and starlets alike. Just as mind-boggling is how Hughes' lapse into depression following a horrific plane crash in the mid-1940s is instantly cured after Ava Gardner shows up to give him what turns out to be a life-changing shave.


Issues such as Hughes' immense power (and his desire for more, more, more) and his ties to the US government are surreptitiously brushed aside so Logan and Scorsese can focus instead on a movie battle between hero (Hughes) and villain (crooked senator Ralph Owen Brewster, gutsily played by Alan Alda, right).
Even Hughes' voyeuristic Western The Outlaw, whose chief focus was Jane Russell's cleavage, offered more depth.
Ironically, as far as I'm concerned the best moment in The Aviator isn't the (admittedly impressive) air fight at the beginning of the film or the plane crash later on, but the brief footage from Howard Hughes' own Hell's Angels, a movie made more than 80 years ago for about 1/10th of the Aviator's (inflation-adjusted) budget.
Note: A version of this The Aviator review was initially posted in December 2004.