In many ways, “The Aviator” is a large-scale biopic that deserves praise.  Director Martin Scorsese (“Gangs of New York”) has chosen to represent a slice of Hughes’ life, and he does it engagingly – despite some significant omissions.  The cinematography is exceptional, particularly in the way that it matches the different periods.  Grainy sepia tones are used for the early sequences from 1927 to 1930, while bright vivid colors highlight the Jazz Age of the ‘30s and ‘40s.  The costumes and the sets are all stunning, giving you the sense of being transported back in time.  And the scene where Hughes crashes into a Hollywood neighborhood, burning 78 percent of his body, is harrowing and masterfully done through a combination of real stunts and CGI.

John Logan’s (“Gladiator”) script is insightful and funny, such as when Gardner arrives to find Hughes at home, in his dressing gown, having strung tape across every room and blacked out all the windows and doors.  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” she quips.  At other times, the film bristles with modern-day issues, such as when Hughes yells, “You want me to bribe senators?  No!  I want it done legally – I want them bought!”

The acting is solid and at times, even outstanding, with the notable exception of the film’s star.  Others may heap praise on DiCaprio for his performance, and he does a respectable job.  However, his diminutive size and baby face stress the limits of credibility.  DiCaprio looks like he’s still in high school – not a mogul whose empire rivals that of modern-day billionaires like Bill Gates.  As a native Southerner, I also didn’t buy his Texas accent, which comes and goes throughout his performance – or the fake mustache.  This may be the reason why Blanchett, as Hepburn, nearly steals the show.  In a performance that is sure to garner her an Oscar nomination, she perfectly imitates the late stars’ tones and mannerisms.  

The biggest problem with the film is its lack of faithfulness to the actual story of Hughes’ life.  And it isn’t that Logan and Scorsese misrepresent the facts; they just leave many of them out.  For example, they shows how Hughes was a ladies’ man, but don’t come close to mentioning the dozens (hundreds?) of other women, many of them famous, that he bedded.  That roster includes Jean Harlow, Gloria Vanderbilt, Linda Darnell, Billie Dove, Ginger Rogers, Lana Turner, Jane Russell and 17-year-old debutante-of-the-century Brenda Frazier.  They don’t show that he was married (not once, but twice).  Hughes was also a champion golfer who won many tournaments, something else the film neglects.  And, after his dramatic plane crash, he became addicted to multiple prescription drugs and later, heroin – another considerable omission.