The Aviator (2004), directed by Martin Scorsese, is an epic biographical drama that chronicles the life of Howard Hughes, a larger-than-life figure in American history known for his roles as an aviator, film producer, and industrialist. The film offers a deep exploration of Hughes’ rise to fame and fortune, as well as his gradual descent into madness due to obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). With a combination of masterful direction, captivating performances, and stunning visual effects, The Aviator is both a compelling character study and a fascinating historical narrative that immerses viewers in the world of early 20th-century aviation and cinema.
At its core, The Aviator is a character-driven film, and much of its success hinges on Leonardo DiCaprio’s portrayal of Hughes. DiCaprio delivers a nuanced and multifaceted performance, capturing the many dimensions of Hughes’ personality: his relentless ambition, innovative genius, and crippling mental illness. DiCaprio portrays Hughes as a man constantly striving to push the boundaries of what is possible, both in the world of aviation and in Hollywood. His portrayal is both empathetic and unsettling, showing Hughes as a visionary figure who is simultaneously haunted by his own demons. DiCaprio’s performance elevates the film, as he manages to convey the complexities of Hughes’ character—his charm, vulnerability, and ultimate unraveling with great emotional depth.
Scorsese, known for his ability to bring larger-than-life figures to the screen, paints Hughes as a tragic hero whose ambition and talent are undermined by his own mind. The film explores how Hughes’ obsessive tendencies, initially seen as quirks or indicators of genius, gradually spiral into full-blown compulsions that consume his life. One of the most striking aspects of The Aviator is how Scorsese portrays Hughes’ OCD not as an external plot device but as an integral part of his character. The film depicts his increasing isolation and paranoia with haunting precision, particularly in the latter half, when Hughes becomes almost a prisoner of his own mind. Through both visual and auditory techniques, the audience is made to feel the suffocating effects of his disorder, underscoring how mental illness can turn even the most powerful individuals into victims of their own psyches.
The film is also a celebration of Hughes’ contributions to aviation and film, two industries that were dramatically transformed by his vision. The aviation sequences are some of the most exhilarating and visually stunning moments in the film. Scorsese and his team, including cinematographer Robert Richardson, successfully recreate the excitement and danger of early aviation with breathtaking aerial shots and intricate period details. The film’s visuals evoke a sense of wonder and awe at the achievements of early aviators, with Hughes at the center as a daring and fearless pioneer. The sequences involving Hughes’ infamous efforts to build the world’s largest airplane, the “Spruce Goose,” are particularly memorable, reflecting his audacity in pursuing what others deemed impossible. The meticulous craftsmanship in these scenes reflects Scorsese’s dedication to authenticity and his reverence for Hughes’ accomplishments.
Hughes’ role in the film industry is another significant focus of the movie, as it highlights his boldness as a producer and director. The Aviator gives us a glimpse into Hollywood’s golden age, where Hughes was responsible for pushing the boundaries of filmmaking with films like Hell’s Angels (1930). The movie explores his battles with censors, particularly regarding his film The Outlaw (1943), and his insistence on shooting aerial scenes with unprecedented realism. These moments reveal Hughes’ obsession with perfection and his unwillingness to compromise, traits that are both admirable and self-destructive. His relationships with actresses like Katharine Hepburn (played by Cate Blanchett) and Ava Gardner (played by Kate Beckinsale) also reflect how his personal and professional lives were often entangled in complex and tumultuous ways.
Cate Blanchett’s performance as Katharine Hepburn is another standout in the film. Blanchett does more than simply imitate Hepburn; she embodies the actress’s strength, eccentricity, and emotional depth. Her chemistry with DiCaprio is palpable, and their scenes together are among the film’s most emotionally charged. Hepburn, in many ways, represents the opposite of Hughes—where he is unraveling, she is composed and confident, and her eventual departure from his life marks a significant turning point in the film. The relationship between Hughes and Hepburn is portrayed not just as a romantic subplot but as a key element in understanding Hughes’ emotional vulnerability. Hepburn’s departure foreshadows Hughes’ increasing isolation and descent into his own mind, making Blanchett’s role crucial to the film’s emotional arc.
The film’s historical context is rich, providing a backdrop of significant events that shaped both Hughes’ life and the world around him. From the rise of aviation to the development of Hollywood’s studio system and the political climate of the mid-20th century, The Aviator captures the spirit of an era where technological innovation and personal ambition often collided with political and social constraints. The film also touches on Hughes’ legal battles with Pan American Airways and his defense against accusations of war profiteering, showing how his business dealings were as audacious as his personal endeavors. These historical elements are woven seamlessly into the narrative, making The Aviator not only a personal biography but also a broader commentary on American capitalism and the pursuit of greatness.
Technically, The Aviator is a masterpiece. Scorsese’s direction is meticulous, as always, and he expertly balances the film’s epic scope with its intimate portrayal of Hughes’ mental deterioration. The film’s editing, led by Thelma Schoonmaker, is crisp and dynamic, particularly in the flight sequences and the scenes depicting Hughes’ frantic mental state. The pacing is generally strong, though some may find the film’s nearly three-hour runtime to be a bit excessive, especially during the latter half, where the focus shifts almost entirely to Hughes’ mental decline. However, for those who are captivated by Hughes’ story, the extended runtime allows for a more immersive and comprehensive exploration of his life.
Visually, the film is a triumph, with stunning cinematography by Robert Richardson, who uses color and lighting to evoke the period and reflect Hughes’ psychological state. In particular, the use of two-color and three-color Technicolor processes in different parts of the film creates a sense of nostalgia for the early days of cinema, while also grounding the film in its historical context. The attention to period detail, from the costumes to the sets, is impeccable, further immersing the audience in the world of 1920s-1940s America. The sound design is equally impressive, particularly in the scenes depicting Hughes’ worsening OCD, where subtle auditory cues—like the repetitive sounds of objects or his own breathing—help to convey his inner turmoil.
One of the film’s strengths is its ability to humanize Hughes, a figure who could easily have been portrayed as a one-dimensional genius or a tragic victim of mental illness. Instead, The Aviator presents Hughes as a man who is constantly wrestling with his own nature. His ambition and creativity are shown to be both his greatest strengths and his greatest weaknesses. He is a man who achieves greatness, but at an immense personal cost. The film does not shy away from depicting the darker aspects of Hughes’ life—his manipulative behavior, his exploitation of those around him, and his increasing detachment from reality—but it also portrays him with a degree of sympathy, suggesting that his genius and madness were inextricably linked.
However, while The Aviator is an impressive film in many respects, it is not without its flaws. Some critics have noted that the film’s portrayal of Hughes can at times feel too sanitized, glossing over some of the more controversial aspects of his life, such as his womanizing and his ruthlessness in business. Additionally, while the film is largely successful in depicting Hughes’ mental illness, there are moments where the pacing slows, particularly in the final act, which focuses heavily on Hughes’ increasing paranoia and isolation. Some viewers may find these scenes repetitive or drawn out, though they are undeniably effective in conveying the extent of his psychological deterioration.
Despite these minor shortcomings, The Aviator remains a remarkable achievement. It is a film that works on multiple levels: as a historical drama, a character study, and a commentary on ambition and madness. Scorsese’s direction, combined with DiCaprio’s tour-de-force performance, results in a film that is both emotionally resonant and visually spectacular. The film offers a window into the life of a man who was ahead of his time, both in his achievements and in his struggles, and it serves as a reminder of the thin line between genius and madness. Through Hughes’ story, The Aviator raises larger questions about the costs of greatness and the ways in which society both venerates and marginalizes those who dare to think and live differently.
