Midnight Madness
I'm not a night person.
I'm not a morning person, either.
Actually, sometimes I wonder if I'm a person, but then there's the mirror and the IRS, so.
Through the years, I've worked my share of the three standard shifts, and some non-standard ones. And being essentially self-employed for the past third of my life, I've made my own hours and they've varied, depending on lots of things, including the season and my mental health. I figure, then, that I don't have a natural affinity for a particular time of day. I love the dawn but also midnight. I'm more productive in the early morning but probably more creative at the end of the day. There is no order in my life, none at all. Just look at my basement.
Lately, though, because of committments, I've been an early riser, working hard until mid-afternoon and then vegetating until 9 or so, when Mr. Sandman comes in and turns off The History Channel and gives me a melatonin.
But it's midnight and I'm up, and I want to tell you why.
First, though, a little blogkeeping. Those of you with sharp eyes (and a compliant browser) will notice that a PayPal "Make A Donation" button has appeared on the left side of this blog. I want to say that I do not want donations. I'm doing fine. I just added it because I had an idea, a whim, a week or so ago, some musings on how to harness the power of the blogosphere for good. I talked about this a long time with my wife until she started finding other things to do. I can get carried away. But if I come up with a good idea, maybe I'll suggest you send me a dollar. Other than that, you can find better ways to help without me, I'm sure.
I'm up at midnight, and a little wired, because I went to the movies. Also I have a free weekend. But mostly the movies.
I went to see "The Aviator" with my friend, Scott. We were actually going to do this last Sunday but I wasn't feeling well. If you've read some of my other writing endeavors, you know that I've had a fascination with Howard Hughes for a long time, so I always meant to see it.
We've got a spectacular cineplex about a mile from my house, by the way. They recently remodeled and it's something. It's a raked theater, with plush seats and more leg room than you get in first class. Seriously. Two little kids kept getting up and going to the snack bar or bathroom during the movie, walking past me, and I never had to move, much less stand up and squeeze back. Very impressive.
So it was a pleasant experience. Hey, just getting out of the house is pretty pleasant.
My impressions, in no particular order, of "The Aviator":
It's long. If the film is supposed to start at 8, and you walk in at 7:59, be prepared to walk out at 11 if you stay to watch a minute or two of the credits.
It's magnificent.
That's the word I used, the word that came to mind, early on. I walked to the car and said to Scott, "Some of it was really magnificent." Sometimes I don't have many words to choose from.
Since I'm familiar with the biographical details, I'm biased but maybe also more judgmental. I had trouble at first with Mr. DiCaprio; the guy just looks so young, like a teenager. But he grew on me, created a character, and after an hour or so of trying to figure out where he got the voice for his role, I realized it was from the source material. He sounded like Howard Hughes.
Also a little like Dale on "King of the Hill," but that's not his fault.
As for the other (Oscar-nominated) actors, my favorite was Cate Blanchett as Katherine Hepburn. I'm a huge Kate (with a "K") fan, the person and the actor, the philosophies and the films, and playing a larger than life character who herself played larger than life characters seems to me to be a recipe for caricature or at least a bad "Mad TV" episode, but she pulls it off, she does. She deserves her nomination, I would think.
Alan Alda, I dunno. I mean, I love this man. I love his work, loved "MASH" and loved "Crimes and Misdemeanors" and everything in between (and before). I appreciate him on "The West Wing." I think he's a wonderful person and a wonderful actor, but it seemed a pretty ordinary performance, although really nice at moments. And I haven't seen a whole lot of 2004 films, so pay no attention to the midnight blogger.
But mostly I loved this film. I loved its scope, its effects, its capture of a time and of a man whose future is known to us and, according to this film, anyway, maybe to him.
Well, it's late. I'll just say, then, you've seen hype before and been disappointed, and so have I, and you may be again, but I doubt it. It's worth the ticket. There's no sex to speak of, no nudity, not much in the way of profanity (I think; that sort of thing rolls by me), certainly no blood and guts unless you count the mildly grisly after-effects of an airplane crash (certainly not stomach turning, a little blood), some really nice performances, and 166 minutes of story telling that tells a story I think we should remember.
At the end of the movie, Howard Hughes sees a vision that tells him where he's going. We know this already, at least those of us who remember where he went. It's a vision I've seen, too. It's the darkest side of life, the implied result of past decisions and/or factors we don't control.
But he flew really fast once, faster than anyone, and he was a hero, and no one will ever say that about me, and I guess that's why I go to the movies, and why they make them, and why we remember, and why it's not a bad idea at all.
1:06:34 AM 
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