Film
A new Scorcese movie inevitably brings with it a host of questions, clichés, and raised eyebrows, so let's get them out of the way now.
No, The Aviator is not Scorcese's best work, but yes, it could well bring 'Marty' the Oscar many feel should have been gathering dust on his mantelpiece for many years now. It could well be his best work since the masterpiece that was Goodfellas back in 1990, and The Aviator bears the hallmark of a master at work.
Focusing on the early years of Howard Hughes' career, the film explores his remarkably innovative career in the aviation industry whilst maintaining a careful focus on Hughes' tragic descent towards madness and isolation. The twin focal points dovetail nicely and make for gripping viewing, with the familiar American dream contrasting harshly with Hughes' own nightmares.
Where Gangs of New York lost balance as the towering performance of Daniel Day-Lewis overshadowed DiCaprio, the latter proves himself a fine leading man through his portrayal of Hughes. Though he's on cruise control in Hughes' younger years, in the latter stages of his life DiCaprio truly fills the part, effectively developing the obsessive compulsive nature of Hughes towards the disturbing moments of breakdown that marred his pioneering efforts in aviation.
While DiCaprio carries the film admirably, he is not without support from what is largely an exemplary supporting cast.
Blanchett is a joy to watch as Katherine Hepburn, her performance so perfect they may as well not bother naming any other nominees in the Best Supporting Actress category come the Academy Awards.
Alec Baldwin is at his best playing Hughes' nemesis at the helm of Pan Am Airlines, and it seems no ensemble cast is complete without the ubiquitous John C. Reilly proving his worth as he does here playing Hughes' much put upon right hand man.
It is only really Beckinsale as Ava Gardener who lets the side down, apparently spending so much time trying to look the part she forgets to actually play it.
Regardless of how The Aviator compares with Scorcese's earlier work and whether it finally convinces the Academy voters, it is for the most part an intriguing exploration of an extraordinary figure. Though the pace feels at times a bit uneven it is punctuated with a series of outstandingly executed set pieces as Scorcese consistently exudes an exceptional ability to match the unique talent of the man whose life he wonderfully brings to the big screen, ensuring The Aviator is a flight not to be missed.
Well, where to begin with this tragic hero of a movie? Mistakenly believing that every critic in the universe had had terrible, terrible sex before seeing Alexander, I entered the cinema optimistic that Oliver Stone, the mind behind JFK, Natural Born Killers and Platoon, would provide something a cut above the histrionic misfire that has arisen.
Like every tragic hero, this film had so much potential, but its journey to greatness is thwarted by one fatal flaw - the script.
Much of the film is excellent, with convincingly chaotic battle scenes, Stone's sharp eye framing Alexander's world fantastically and, in particular, the period costumes and sets surpass even those of The Lord of the Rings for detail and verisimilitude.
Farrell's performance has come in for criticism, but to be honest he does a great job; the weakness is in a script which portrays the greatest conqueror of all time as a simpering, immature boy (early on, fair enough, given his youth) strangely reminiscent of a dashing, peroxide blonde Kevin The Teenager in his keenness to blame all his ills on his parents. An attempt to flesh out the character of Alexander is to be welcomed in a genre where characterisation is generally more wooden than a chariot charge, yet to do so with pop-Freud pyschology and a script which calls for him to burst into tears at the end of almost every scene makes Alexander seem more a loser than a humanised legend.
The lack of, well, greatness in this Alexander the Great (not to be confused with his bisexuality, refreshingly admitted in this film rather than the hush job of Troy) means the film arrogantly expects us to accept him as leader and hero, and in so doing it only provides the scenes which should contrast with this persona, resulting in a damp squib of a great conqueror.
Just as empires can stretch too far, this is a disappointing film which strains too high, and forgets its roots in the process.
This film arrives trailing clouds of glory from last year's Venice Film Festival, winning both the Golden Lion for 'Best Film' and the Volpi Cup for 'Best Actress'.
Such is the standard of Staunton's performance it is difficult to disagree, lifting as it does the film from a solid Mike Leigh piece of anti-nostalgia into very special territory indeed.
Staunton is the bright, breezy and mumsy Vera, matriarch of the close-knit and burgeoning Drake clan who, unbeknownst to her family, "helps out" local girls who have found themselves pregnant.
Nothing much happens, until one of her procedures goes disastrously wrong, and the law comes to call, beginning the unravelling of Vera's life.
An exceptional level of detail is credit to both Mike Leigh's script and his directing. From the repeated references to the cheese-grater in Vera's toolbox by the prosecution to a stunning (should such a word be appropriate) portrayal of 1950s drabness, such attention proves both humourous and aesthetically appealling.
This film may handle the hot-potato issue of abortion, but it is far from a polemic; the film scrupulously avoids beating any pro-life/pro-choice drums, and instead concentrates on Vera and her family, who are rounded out by a solid and sympathetic ensemble. Phil Davis, as her husband, and Daniel Mays, as her wideboy son, in particular stand out.
However, merely in presenting a backstreet abortionist at work the film adopts a position, whether it likes it or not. Vera may endanger the women she helps, yet (in a very Leigh touch) we see a rich woman paying two hundred pounds for a safer residential clinic, while those well below her in the social spectrum can barely afford even the two guinea price of Vera's procedure.
This film of exceptional quality probes the justice of such a system, and posits Vera, at the end, as just as much of a victim as the helpless young girl who nearly dies as a result of her procedure.
13th Jan 2005