Thursday, March 31, 2005

Review: The Aviator



The Aviator is one of those rare oscar bait movies that are in fact highly entertaining, albiet a tad bit too long. The entertanment comes from the fact that it is the life story of a real character, a Mr. Howard Hughes, and characters are few and far between in this day and age. Howard Hughes was such a character, filled with eccentricities and major and minor madnesses that are so often either missing, or completely put on in this day and age. It's a story of a remarkable life, the early and mid 20th century's Richard Branson, the playboy extraordinary, daredevil extreme. How can you not fall in love with a story like that, it's got everything we want, women, money, power games, it's a seventeen year old male's dream come true. More movies should capitalise on these concepts, it shall help a lot.
But with the good comes the bad. I don't know who they cast for Katherine Hepburn, because I'm currently too lazy to find out, but she looked like a horse, rather than the beauty she was supposed to be. The other galling part of the movie was the ending, one found it ended two scenes too late, and it should ideally have ended with the take off of the Spruce Goose, the Hercules. The last scene seemed highly jarring, and out of place, and yes, you'll have to go see the movie yourself to know what it was.
On the acting front, I think Leonardo deCaprio has done a very good job, and the rest of the expansive cast plays their roles to perfection. Again, I do wish that someone else had been cast for Katherine Hepburn, it all seemed very disturbing to me.
All in all, a four out of five, and well worth the three hours you'll spend in the hall watching it. Just be sure to take full advantage of the interval.

On a Personal Note



The last couple of days has been great fun, I've been wandering around town like the proverbial young man who was about the above mentioned settlement. Wandering from house to house went PC, Manav and I(I've been told this is the correct way to list items, rather than my own "ego-centric" way"), exploring the limits of maternal hospitality, and viewing Maria Sharapova's breasts. Good times.

No comments: