Everybody's favourite aviatrix, Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly across the Atlantic, once as a hyped-up backseat driver, and then again, solo, in 1932.
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It’s the disappearance that gives Amelia mystique. It also supplies this disappointingly run of the mill biopic with its most effective sequence, the ending. There’s not much excitement in the hour and a half that leads up to it.
To be fair, the movie doesn’t seem invested in excitement. It’s aimed at a more mature, middle-of-the-road film fan, someone who likes to wallow in period costumes and old aircraft, and enjoys a bit of romance sprinkled tastefully into his/her history lesson.
Double Oscar-winner Hilary Swank is presumably the film’s raison d’etre, and she gets stuck into the role, flashing a toothy grin and cocking her chin forward with plucky determination, her hair cropped in boyish disregard… it’s Katharine Hepburn in jodhpurs and a leather jacket.
This Amelia is simultaneously a reluctant clotheshorse for various celebrity endorsements (by no means a new phenomenon) and a symbol of modern, independent womanhood. She lives with the former in as far as it finances her expensive passion, and because she falls in love with her PR guru, George Putnam (Richard Gere). But the role of proto-feminist high-flyer she embraces with gusto, encouraging young girls to follow in her slipstream and even taking Eleanor Roosevelt up for a late night aerial tour of the capitol.
Amelia: Richard Gere
Swank is always watchable, but the script (by Ron Bass and Anna Hamilton Phelan) is a dull plod through Earhart’s glory years, and the movie might have been edited with garden shears, there’s so little flow or finesse. That’s a disappointment coming from director Mira Nair (Monsoon Wedding), an erratic filmmaker who seems out of her element here.
An affair with Gene Vidal (Ewan McGregor), Gore’s dad, is handled with such kid gloves it seems like a superfluous diversion, and Richard Gere brings nothing but his ticky “charm” to the table.
What drove Earhart to such daring accomplishments? The film never goes there, except for a brief aside about the drunken father who raised her. Swank shows us conviction and fortitude, but the movie would have been more interesting if it had allowed a few cracks in her make up.
Amelia isn’t terrible: it’s handsomely photographed and sober as a judge – you may even learn a few things – but it feels dutiful and conventional, which is probably the last thing Earhart would have wanted.
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