The Aviator: From the Heights to the Depths

Howard Hughes’ journey through light and darkness is fascinating—his ascension to the heights is thrilling, and his plunge into flames is heart-wrenching. Metaphorically, the film captures the journey of all humans wrestling through the heights and depths of existence. We’ve all felt the elevation, the wind in our hair, as we experience the best of our humanity. We’ve also all faced the terror of hiding in the guilty shadow of sin.

The power and freedom of flight is the perfect metaphor for Hughes’ visionary achievements. He was The Aviator. At his best, Hughes advanced flight technology and pushed the boundaries of aviation in his day. He was afraid of no one; he never backed down from a new challenge. He soared to wonderful heights with his God-given gifts and utilized every aspect of his intellectual ability. The scenes of Hughes as a test pilot reveal him at his best—a man at the top of his game both literally and metaphorically.

In the midst of his joy, Hughes was also continually hounded by his darkness. He was tortured by obsessive-compulsive personality disorder; anxiety and stress pushed him into intense bouts of isolation and compulsive behavior. He was also a womanizer, a man who bought women off the rack like his suits at J.C. Penney. His personality as a controlling workaholic, and his lust, kept him from experiencing true intimacy in his life. His personality disorder was a chain around his ankle, always pulling him back down to the ground. As high as Howard Hughes might fly, his demons kept him anchored to a life of torment.

Tragically, the darkness never let go of Hughes. In striking imagery, he violently crashes after a test flight over Beverly Hills. He is a bloody mess of a man, barely able to crawl away from the flaming wreckage. In this moment of near destruction, we see him mutter the boast that propelled him throughout his life: “I’m Howard Hughes.” Like the collapsed stature of Ozymandias, Hughes whispers his greatness from the smoking remains of an empire: “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!” The pride of man refuses to release its grip even in the midst of annihilation.

The battle of light and darkness continues throughout the film. Hughes spends weeks in solitary insanity only to reemerge as the conquering hero of the congressional hearings. He raises the mighty Hercules into the air only to descend into the frightening world of hallucinations. The film ends with a withered, scarred, yet ever proud Hughes escaping into a fantasy about his childhood. Even in his most innocent years, we’re told, he was assaulted with the horrific realities of human disease.

Darkness and light indeed battled for the genius known as Howard Hughes. But isn’t this the nature of life? Aren’t all geniuses tormented by gnawing afflictions of the mind and soul? In fact, I’d be hard pressed to find any great thinker, artist, or entrepreneur who didn’t balance their greatness with destruction. It’s almost like a deal God makes with those who are blessed with brilliance: you can leave a definite stamp on humanity—but your soul will suffer. The god of Hades will hound you as you attempt to climb Mt. Olympia. Maybe it’s a cosmic check and balance system for the hubris of mankind; never again will a human build the Tower of Babel without damaging his own precious psyche.

Genius or not, all accomplishments of humanity are stained by temporality, sin and destruction. Our greatness always contains an asterisk beside it: Death. We live under the curse—dust to dust, ashes to ashes. The book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that even the most handsome, the most rich, the most talented, will ultimately blow away in the wind.

We all have a bit of Howard Hughes in us, a part that reflects the glory of God in our discoveries, our creativity, and our intelligence. And like him we also live in shadows, plagued by our own diseases, disorders, and sin. In the midst of our own light and dark, the image of God fractured by human sin, our only hope is to humble ourselves before the Creator. In Him we are promised resurrection and life. Human achievement then has meaning and hope: “Have reverence for God, and obey his commands, because this is all that we were created for. God is going to judge everything we do, whether good or bad, even things done in secret” (Ecclesiastes 12:13,14; TEV)

The Aviator: From the Heights to the Depths

Howard Hughes’ journey through light and darkness is fascinating—his ascension to the heights is thrilling, and his plunge into flames is heart-wrenching. Metaphorically, the film captures the journey of all humans wrestling through the heights and depths of existence. We’ve all felt the elevation, the wind in our hair, as we experience the best of our humanity. We’ve also all faced the terror of hiding in the guilty shadow of sin.

The power and freedom of flight is the perfect metaphor for Hughes’ visionary achievements. He was The Aviator. At his best, Hughes advanced flight technology and pushed the boundaries of aviation in his day. He was afraid of no one; he never backed down from a new challenge. He soared to wonderful heights with his God-given gifts and utilized every aspect of his intellectual ability. The scenes of Hughes as a test pilot reveal him at his best—a man at the top of his game both literally and metaphorically.

In the midst of his joy, Hughes was also continually hounded by his darkness. He was tortured by obsessive-compulsive personality disorder; anxiety and stress pushed him into intense bouts of isolation and compulsive behavior. He was also a womanizer, a man who bought women off the rack like his suits at J.C. Penney. His personality as a controlling workaholic, and his lust, kept him from experiencing true intimacy in his life. His personality disorder was a chain around his ankle, always pulling him back down to the ground. As high as Howard Hughes might fly, his demons kept him anchored to a life of torment.

Tragically, the darkness never let go of Hughes. In striking imagery, he violently crashes after a test flight over Beverly Hills. He is a bloody mess of a man, barely able to crawl away from the flaming wreckage. In this moment of near destruction, we see him mutter the boast that propelled him throughout his life: “I’m Howard Hughes.” Like the collapsed stature of Ozymandias, Hughes whispers his greatness from the smoking remains of an empire: “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!” The pride of man refuses to release its grip even in the midst of annihilation.

The battle of light and darkness continues throughout the film. Hughes spends weeks in solitary insanity only to reemerge as the conquering hero of the congressional hearings. He raises the mighty Hercules into the air only to descend into the frightening world of hallucinations. The film ends with a withered, scarred, yet ever proud Hughes escaping into a fantasy about his childhood. Even in his most innocent years, we’re told, he was assaulted with the horrific realities of human disease.

Darkness and light indeed battled for the genius known as Howard Hughes. But isn’t this the nature of life? Aren’t all geniuses tormented by gnawing afflictions of the mind and soul? In fact, I’d be hard pressed to find any great thinker, artist, or entrepreneur who didn’t balance their greatness with destruction. It’s almost like a deal God makes with those who are blessed with brilliance: you can leave a definite stamp on humanity—but your soul will suffer. The god of Hades will hound you as you attempt to climb Mt. Olympia. Maybe it’s a cosmic check and balance system for the hubris of mankind; never again will a human build the Tower of Babel without damaging his own precious psyche.

Genius or not, all accomplishments of humanity are stained by temporality, sin and destruction. Our greatness always contains an asterisk beside it: Death. We live under the curse—dust to dust, ashes to ashes. The book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that even the most handsome, the most rich, the most talented, will ultimately blow away in the wind.

We all have a bit of Howard Hughes in us, a part that reflects the glory of God in our discoveries, our creativity, and our intelligence. And like him we also live in shadows, plagued by our own diseases, disorders, and sin. In the midst of our own light and dark, the image of God fractured by human sin, our only hope is to humble ourselves before the Creator. In Him we are promised resurrection and life. Human achievement then has meaning and hope: “Have reverence for God, and obey his commands, because this is all that we were created for. God is going to judge everything we do, whether good or bad, even things done in secret” (Ecclesiastes 12:13,14; TEV)