The Aviator

Directed by Martin Scorsese

Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett, John C. Reilly, Kate Beckinsale, Alec Baldwin, Alan Alda

Synopsis

Billionaire playboy Howard Hughes makes movies in Hollywood, wines and dines starlets, and tries to conquer the American aviation industry while suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder, germ phobia, paranoia and other mental ailments.

Review

The Aviator may finally get Martin Scorsese his Oscar; if it does, it will be more in recognition of past greatness than of this film. That’s not to say The Aviator isn’t a highly entertaining and engaging biopic, because it is definitely that. Despite all of Hughes’ many disorders and phobias, Scorsese and DiCaprio savor the notion that Hughes was a fighter who, when his back was pressed against the wall, was able to overcome his mental illnesses to meet the challenges before him. Ultimately, of course, those diseases proved to be too much for him to handle, which led to Hughes’ eccentric lifestyle in seclusion for the final years of his life. But it was his extraordinary accomplishments as a movie producer and, most importantly, an aviator, that Scorsese wants people to remember him by. For the film’s brisk 169-minute running time at least – mission accomplished.

Grade: B+

Finding Neverland

Directed by Marc Forster

Starring Johnny Depp, Kate Winslet, Julie Christie, Dustin Hoffman

Synopsis

Playwright J.M. Barrie befriends a widow and her four children, who become the inspiration for his play Peter Pan.

Review

Let’s get one thing straight: Johnny Depp is the best actor working today. No one else is capable of jumping between such drastically different roles and making them all eminently believable. This time, Depp gives Scottish playwright J.M. Barrie a deeply introspective serenity as he grapples with his struggling marriage and watching the four boys of his widow friend Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Winslet) deal with tragically grown-up issues while trying to help them remain children as well. As his relationship with Davies and her children blossoms, so too does Barrie’s long-developing concept of Neverland, a place where no one ever has to grow-up and deal with the realities of adulthood. Ultimately, of course, Neverland is just a fantasy and the struggles of real life cannot be suppressed or ignored; but the respite Neverland provides to the Davies boys, their mother and Barrie himself proves to be invaluable.

Grade: A-

As I listened to the always incomprehensible Bill Rhoden of The New York Times try to defend Barry Bonds on The Sports Reporters a few Sunday mornings ago, I realized that most of the people who jumped on the “Bonds is the greatest player ever” bandwagon when he started this preposterous home run barrage now feel obligated to defend the indefensible rather than admit their own fallacy, even if that means being attached to Bonds’ dishonor.

If you actually believe Bonds’ assertion that he had no idea he was taking steroids, please contact me immediately – I have some wonderful beachfront property in Kansas I’d like to sell you. Afterwards, please head directly to the appropriate medical professional who can ensure your future sterilization and removal from the gene pool.

I am simply incredulous at the number of people I hear either rationalizing or shrugging their shoulders at the steroid use of Bonds, Giambi, Sheffield, et al. Statements like “it doesn’t help them hit a baseball any better” are so stupid it makes my brain want to cave in on itself. These are professional hitters; if it didn’t help them, they wouldn’t use it. And this isn’t about steroids helping them turn a 400-ft. home run into a 460-ft. home run; it’s about helping them turn a routine fly ball into a 335-ft. home run.

Which brings us directly to the most important aspect of this scandal: the numbers. Baseball is the only game where the stats actually mean something. They define greatness across generations of former players because, even though they may have played in different eras against slightly different talent and varying circumstances, for the most part the game is the same and they were all equipped with the same basic physiology.

Then along comes this group of charlatans, mashing baseballs off already inferior pitching and dwarfing the accomplishments of all who came before them: Aaron, Ruth, Mays, Robinson, Williams – the list goes on and on. (I wonder how Mays really feels about his godson passing him on the home run list now.)

Because of Bonds and his ilk, future generations of fans may have no perspective on how great a player someone like Henry Aaron was, averaging 35 home runs a year for 20 straight seasons. Instead, Bonds’ final numbers may make Aaron’s accomplishments look pale by comparison (Bonds hit 73 in one season, while Aaron topped out at 47), which is why a marker must be attached to those statistics indicating the fraudulency of their nature.

But that won’t happen, not with Major League Baseball in a prime position to finally gain some huge concessions from the almighty players’ union in terms of a strong drug testing policy. Hopefully, some real progress will be made there and over the next few years, league-wide statistics will return to reality.

And hopefully, the numbers of Bonds and his partners in crime will carry their own asterisks of shame down through the generations. Because these thieves, who had their physical abilities augmented in a laboratory, shouldn’t be allowed to steal the records of those who came before them and played the game with the natural gifts God gave them.

I could write about the hideous display of football the Eagles and Redskins put on last night, but there are more important developments to discuss this morning, namely the invention of the Paul Maguire drinking game.

My cousin and I thought it would be a great idea to have a drinking game when every time Paul Maguire utters “I want to tell you…,” or one of his numerous variations of that phrase, take a shot of your favorite liquor.

There would also be additional drinking opportunities – a swig of beer, for instance – every time Maguire said, “Watch this!” before each replay.

Warning: Should you choose to play the Paul Maguire drinking game, patent pending (a little inside humor there), make sure you confiscate everyone’s car keys upon arrival because your guests will be completely soused by the end of the first quarter. Alcohol poisoning followed by death is a serious possibility if the game is played through all four quarters, so you might want to have your guests sign a waiver as well.

OK, back to the actual football game.

It was an ugly, hard-hitting affair; but the Eagles toughed it out and won 17-14 over a Redskins team that basically penalized themselves into a loss. Washington racked up 12 penalties for 137 yards, and there were a lot more that could have been called, too.

If not for an unusual lapse of coverage on the Eagles’ special teams, which allowed a huge opening kickoff return that set up a Redskins TD drive of a whopping 14 yards, the score would have more likely been in the neighborhood of 17-7.

Meanwhile, Andy Reid seems completely oblivious to the fact that the ball can also be run to gain yards, something he’ll hopefully remember come playoff time as the weather turns more treacherous in January.

Now for the good news: A win against Dallas at home next week and the Eagles lock up home field advantage with two weeks to go in the season. Once that happens – and it should – if I were coach I’d bench every starter I could against the Rams the following Monday night and treat it like another bye week, then bring the starters back for the first half against the Bengals in the last regular season game (just to keep them from getting rusty), then bench them in the second half and enjoy yet another bye week after that.



Besides the obviousness of not risking injury to McNabb, Owens, and Westbrook, the Eagles got very beat up last night (especially the seemingly always-injured defensive line) and they could use the rest.

With the exception of a few loose odds and ends, it seems the Phillies have rounded out their pitching staff for 2005 with signing of soon-to-be 35-year-old right hander Jon Lieber, a veteran of 10 major league seasons and Tommy John surgery.

On the plus side, Lieber was the only pitcher who was money for the Yankees down the stretch last season. His arm seems healthy (knock on wood), and if he even comes close to the 20-6, 3.80 ERA season he posted for the Cubs before his elbow injury in 2001, he’ll be worth his weight in gold.

The Phillies also re-signed Rheal Cormier, literally one of a handful of decent left-handed relievers, to a 2-year deal. He’ll rejoin Billy Wagner, Tim Worrell, and Ryan Madson in a fairly solid bullpen.

Now the bad part: Ed Wade & Co. are stubbornly sticking with the Jeff George of pitchers – Brett Myers. While the Phillies haven’t ruled out Madson winning a spot in the rotation this spring, they’ve all but guaranteed that Gavin Floyd will start the year back in Triple-A.

I understand that a lot of time and money has been invested in Myers, but are you telling me that no other team has interest in that arm, regardless of the head controlling it? Myers is prime trade bait, and frankly the Phillies should take advantage of it. Floyd and Madson in the back of that rotation beat Lidle and Myers any day of the week.

As long as I’m here, I suppose I should make some mention of the centerfield “remedy,” since I’ve failed to post much since the acquisition of Kenny Lofton, a 37-year-old who used to be one of the game’s preeminent leadoff hitters, still has some speed left, but isn’t batting anywhere near .330 anymore.

Is trading a reliever who throws in the mid- to upper-90s consistently for a guy who’ll likely hit seventh or eighth a good deal? Not really, but there aren’t a lot of good centerfielders out there in the Phillies’ price range either, so maybe they had no choice.