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| Wednesday, February 2, 2005 01:04 PM |
| The Way of the Future |
 by Fëanor |
Last night I continued my Best Picture Oscar nominee viewing by seeing The Aviator. This is the film with the most nominations this year, and is the frontrunner to win Best Picture, according to those who know such things. Why is it so popular with the Academy? Because it's an epic (read: long) drama about the life of a big American personality (Howard Hughes) by a great American director (Martin Scorsese) who is now old enough and far enough away from his more dangerous masterpieces for the Academy to grudgingly recognize his talent. Yes, the Academy loves to give awards to talented people for the wrong movies. Remember when Al Pacino got his Oscar? Hoo-hah!
This is another one of those wrong movies. It's strange, and I wouldn't call it great. Million Dollar Baby was certainly more moving. But that's because MDB was about people we could identify with. It's hard to identify with Leonardo DiCaprio's twitching, twisted Hughes. Which is not to say Leo's performance is bad--it's pretty excellent, in fact. The problem is with the character of Hughes himself. Every time we begin to understand him and to feel for him, we are reminded how rich and famous and creepy he is, and are distanced from him again. I guess rich, famous, creepy guys would be deeply affected. I'm only mildly insane, and not in the least bit rich or famous, so the movie certainly kept me interested, but didn't manage to completely invest me emotionallly in Hughes and his story.
Which is not to say I don't like the movie. I do. It's a fascinating story, and he's an interesting man. And I was really moved when, at the end of the film, the monstrous Hercules, the largest and most expensive plane ever built, somehow manages to get airborne. It's an amazing triumph, an impossible feat, but that's what Hughes's life is all about--it's a constant quest to achieve ridiculous things that everyone else is certain can't be done. And Hughes doesn't take much time to celebrate his achievements; as soon as he's finished one thing--often, even before he's finished--he's on to the next, in a constant attempt to one-up himself, to do better, to find the next big thing. Almost before he's gotten out of the Hercules after its maiden flight, he's already talking to his trusted assisstants Glenn Odekirk (Matt Ross) and Noah Dietrich (John C. Reilly) about jet airplanes. They're the way of the future, he says. The way of the future. And then his mental illness, which is never diagnosed or explained in the film, intrudes again. He gets nervous and paranoid, and he can't stop saying that phrase: the way of the future. The way of the future. His friends lock him in a bathroom so no one will see him that way, and run off to get him help. As he continues to repeat that phrase, there's a short flashback to him as a child--a scene we saw at the start of the film--wherein he tells his mother about his dreams for the future: He'll be rich and make great movies and fly the fastest planes. "The way of the future," the Hughes of the present says again, and again, the phrase echoing hauntingly, pregnant with meaning, as the film ends.
There are two possible interpretations of this ending, as I see it: 1. Hughes achieved all his childhood dreams, overcame every obstacle, but that wasn't enough for him, and he found himself still tortured by the demons in his own mind. 2. Even constantly tortured by the demons in his own mind, Hughes somehow still managed to overcome every obstacle and achieve all of his childhood dreams.
Seeing as how the movie ends not with Hughes in triumph, at the controls of his mighty Hercules aircraft, but locked in a bathroom, saying the same phrase and over and over to himself, I think the former interpretation is the more likely one.
Regardless, it's an interesting story, and well told. The direction is, of course, impeccable (this is Scorsese, after all), as is the acting: this film is loaded with talented and well known actors. Cate Blanchett in particular stands out as Hughes's early love interest, Katharine Hepburn. Blanchett seems to transform herself completely for each role, and here she totally nails Hepburn's voice, accent, and mannerisms in a fantastically funny, warm, and human performance. Kate Beckinsale has a small part as Ava Gardner, who doesn't reciprocate Hughes's desire for her, but remains friends with him even after the extent of his sick, paranoid obsession with her is revealed. Alec Baldwin appears as Hughes's ruthless rival in the airline industry, Pan Am CEO Juan Trippe. Alec doesn't look much like anybody named Juan, but he's fine in the part. Alan Alda plays the Senator from Maine who tries to help Trippe destroy Hughes and his airline, TWA. Ian Holm has a bit part as Professor Fitz, a meteorologist whom Hughes first hires to find clouds that he can put into the background of his film Hell's Angels, and later employs to help him convince the Hollywood censor board that his shots of Jane Russell's bust in Outlaw aren't really any more revealing or prurient than other shots of other busts that have already graced the silver screen.
This is a good time to mention that the film makes constant connections between Hughes's obsession with airplanes and his obsession with women: on the other side of a glossy glamour shot of Jane Russell, Hughes has sketched the design of a new plane; on another sheet of paper with more airplane designs, there are also designs for Russell's bra. He switches from talking about Russell and his new movie to talking about his new plane with such suddenness, and using so much of the same terminology, that it's hard to tell at first that he's changed the subject. In another scene, we cut from a shot of Hughes stroking the smooth, bare back of a woman, to a shot of him stroking the smooth, bare back of his new airplane. The metaphor is clear and clever, and gives us a better understanding of Hughes and his desires.
Other stars who appear in small parts in the film are Gwen Stefani as Jean Harlow, who's just another in a long line of beautiful women who appear with him in public (this is really just a cameo for Stefani; she has only one line); Jude Law as the notorious Errol Flynn, who, in the few minutes that he's on screen, manages to get into a fist fight; and Willem Dafoe as a newspaper man named Roland Sweet whom Hughes pays off to keep him from printing dirty pictures of Kate Hepburn and Spencer Tracy together--they've split up at this point in the story, but Hepburn and Hughes still care for each other. Brent Spiner also has a bit part as an airplane designer, but I guess he only counts as a star to us Star Trek geeks.
I had suspected, or been lead to believe, that the film would gloss over Hughes's insanity, and white wash the years he spent as a lonely, paranoid shut-in. But it doesn't do this at all. In fact, Hughes's insanity is a major part of the film, and we get to see a shaggy, long-fingernailed DiCaprio prance around nude in a projection room, talking to himself, dictating strange and meticulous orders to his employees, and peeing into empty milk bottles as bits of his old films flicker and dance over his naked skin. Not that I really wanted to see that. The point is, Scorsese doesn't try to paint us a glowing portrait of Hughes as a great hero without any faults. Certainly he admires Hughes's drive and determination, his love of and devotion for film, his will and his ability to somehow achieve the impossible. But Scorsese doesn't let that keep him from depicting Hughes's sickness and his mistakes as well.
At least, I don't think he does. The problem is, I don't know that much about the real Howard Hughes. As the movie began, I suddenly felt, as I feel before I see most movies based on true stories, like I really should have done some research. Were Trippe and Senator Brewster really just slimy bastards out to destroy Hughes and his airline? Was Hughes himself really a well-meaning genius and visionary whose mental illness caused him to ocassionally make mistakes and hurt people? Did he really never have any intention of bilking the US government out of its money?
I don't know. But regardless of who the real Hughes was, the one in this film is an interesting character who, while perhaps not always lovable or easily identified with, is certainly a complex and fascinating person, and Scorsese tells his tale well. |
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