|
Scorsese seems more interested in aesthetics at the expense of substance, and Logan's script fails to delve deeply enough into Hughes' psychology. We know the eccentric billionaire had a germ phobia so intense he carried disinfectant soap in his pocket wherever he went, and that a speck of lint on a business associate's lapel would render him incapable of completing a sentence. But why? We know the young Texan sank the family drill-bit fortune he inherited into airplanes and movies -- and sometimes, as in the 1930 film he produced, Hell's Angels, he threw millions at movies about airplanes. But why? Why are these his passions, and not baseball or ballroom dance or some other arbitrary pursuit? By recreating some of the key moments of Hughes' life -- including buying TWA, setting new speed records, competing with Pan Am chief Juan Trippe (a convincingly conniving Alec Baldwin) and dating glamorous starlets -- but providing little insight, The Aviator feels like a lavish, handsome game of dress-up. Speaking of gorgeous, cinematographer Robert Richardson bathes the film in golden light to create a warm feeling of nostalgia and uses crisp, bright colours for the dramatic flying sequences. (The shooting of Hell's Angels, with a swarm of airplanes circling and swooping toward each other through the clouds, is especially impressive.) Costume designer Sandy Powell outfits everyone flawlessly (Kate Beckinsale looks jaw-droppingly beautiful as Ava Gardner) and production designer Dante Ferretti, a longtime Scorsese collaborator, makes sure every scene is jam-packed with ideal details. These are the real stars of The Aviator, and they've helped create the kind of film for which the phrase "Oscar buzz" seems specifically to have been coined. As for the names you're more familiar with, Blanchett is a complete joy to watch as Hepburn: She's not doing a dead-on impression, and she shouldn't be, but she definitely embodies the actress' spirit. Just seeing her stride across a golf course and hearing her ask Hughes in that hard New England accent whether he likes the the-a-tah -- because she just loves the the-a-tah -- is a total hoot. Then there is DiCaprio. The theory exists that he looks too young to play Hughes. I have no problem with that; his charisma and energy, which made him so similarly irresistible last year in Catch Me If You Can, help him overcome his innate boyishness. And once Hughes descends into madness and hides inside his screening room -- naked, unshaven, muttering to himself and urinating into empty milk bottles -- DiCaprio is utterly believable, as well. As DiCaprio has shown before, in pretty much every film he's made besides Titanic, he's perfectly capable of going dark. If only his efforts had shed more light on the character he portrays, The Aviator might truly have taken flight.-Christinne Lemirre.
|
Alexander: Below average
Far from great, Alexander sporadically lumbers toward watchable, but mostly it's just bad. And we're not just talking kitschy, B-movie bad. At least that would have been fun. We'll talking all-out, big-budget-bomb bad. About a third of the way into this exceedingly earnest, three-hour epic, I wrote in my notepad, "This movie is going to tank." About two hours in, I wrote, "Ready for this to end."Probably not the reaction director and co-writer Oliver Stone had hoped for when he began dreaming of this project decades ago. Then again, nothing about Alexander feels like a Stone film, at least not until a breathtaking battle toward the end involving elephants in India. Despite the efforts of cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, known for his visceral work on films including Amores Perros and 8 Mile, Alexander lacks the daring and stylistic flair of Stone's best, such as Platoon and JFK. But perhaps Stone was doomed from the start. In telling the story of the Macedonian warrior-king, who had conquered the vast majority of the known pre-Christian world by the time he was 25, he has created a film that feels both too long and too cursory. We hear Alexander (Colin Farrell) talk a lot about wanting to bring various lands and people together, but we never truly understand what drives him. Part of the problem is the dialogue -- Stone wrote the script with Christopher Kyle and Laeta Kalogridis -- which alternates between stilted speeches and laugh-out-loud anachronisms. My favourite is when Alexander's dad calls him "an arrogant brat." If he is a brat, at least he's a stylish one, dressed in a micro-mini of a toga and tressed like Brad Pitt in Troy. (Though as the movie goes on, his bleach-blond bowl cut grows out to something resembling a mullet, and by the end he's sporting the flowing locks of Fabio.) Farrell gives it his all -- sometimes he gives too much, showing every smidgen of ambition and anger on his puppy-dog-cute face -- but despite his undeniable enthusiasm, he lacks the gravitas necessary for the role. Alexander was young, but he was no lightweight. They didn't call him "the Great" for nothing. Also going way, way over the top is Angelina Jolie as Alexander's mother, Olympias, who has a fondness for snakes and may or may not be a sorceress. In an accent that seems to have been borrowed from George Hamilton in Love at First Bite, Olympias repeatedly insists that Alexander's father was Zeus, though biology would suggest it was King Philip (Val Kilmer, back in Jim Morrison mode, blustering beneath a beard and a beer belly). Posing the question every mother thrusts upon her son mid-guilt trip, Jolie's Olympias asks, "What have I done to make you hate me so?" (This line elicited laughs at the screening I attended.)
|
Photo:
Colin Farrell in Alexander.