Scorcese is a masterful storyteller who always manages to draw out the best in his cast and crew and this film is no exception. The only trouble with THE AVIATOR is the tale itself. I went in to the film knowing that Howard Hughes was a millionaire, an aeronautical genius, a film producer, a womanizer and, eventually, a deranged recluse. While parts of this cinematic journey are exciting and entrancing, the film as a whole never makes him more than the sum of his endearing, intelligent and delusional parts. There's just too much ground to cover and the story moves to quickly to allow for much meandering in the deep end of the character pool. The only scenes that show more than Hughes's illness or bravado are the ones with illumination his relationship with Hepburn. Though they are larger than life figures, one really gets the sense of their inner complexities during their few stolen moments.

The first half of the film concentrates on Hughes' early career in pictures and in the sky and DiCaprio makes his enthusiasm for both utterly infectious. He makes you believe, despite his eccentricities, that this is a man who's going somewhere, who can create anything he sets his mind to. We initially revel in his accomplishments and desperately want him to succeed; however, as the film progresses the experience becomes mostly like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Since Hughes could neither control nor find treatment for his OCD, then an unknown malady, you start to feel sorry for him instead of excited by his ideas. Once he begins to spiral out of control the film loses its' vitality and purpose, turning into an uncomfortable illustration of his personal misery. His desire to both conquer the world and escape from it pull him apart and nothing, neither the innumerable ladies nor his love of flying, is enough to eradicate his fears.