Favorite Moments
A rare smile from Sgt. Watson. The next minute Towns knocks it right off his face.
TOWNS:
Now let's see if I've got this straight. You're just gonna unzip that starboard wing and lift it up all the way over from the other side and just tack it onto this port boom, is that correct?
Lew Moran learns the truth about Dorfmann. (It's the story's best plot twist so I won't spoil it here). Is Lew laughing or crying? Answer: yes.
TOWNS:
He's right about one thing, though. The little men with the sliderules and computers are going to inherit the earth. It's kinda sad that Dorfmann won't be there to see it. But then I -- I guess he doesn't need to see it ... he already knows it.
The only female presence in the film, and she's either a memory or a mirage. (She's really Barrie Chase, whom Fred Astaire once described as his favorite dancing partner of all time!)
Trivia
If you've seen this film, you'll remember Dorfmann rattling off an amazing claim about, of all things, the early history of model airplanes.
He says, "In 1851 Henson and Stringfellow built a rubber-powered model that flew 600 meters before encountering an obstruction."
For years I thought this was an odd invention of the screenplay (I don't remember it being in the book) ... but it turns out to be entirely true.
William Samuel Henson and John Stringfellow really did build enormous "model" planes (20-foot wingspans, for example) and they flew with astonishing
stability and control. They even built one with a steam engine! Henson and Stringfellow came very, very close to being the first to fly in a heavier-than-air machine,
decades before the Wright Brothers and Glenn Curtis.
Every now and then I hear someone say that James Bond's copy of Playboy in On Her Majesty's Secret Service is the first time the magazine appeared on screen. That was in 1969. Here it is in 1965. On the other hand, I really don't care about this and don't even know why I brought it up.
Many modern movie viewers might ask, "what the heck is that funny-looking plane anyway?" You don't see them
flying around much anymore. I'd originally ID'd it as the Fairchild C-119J "Flying Boxcar. " But eagle-eyed site visitor
Bruce Blair pointed out that it's actually the earlier relative, the C-82 Packet. And of course he's right -- the main body shapes are quite different.
THE FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX
Screenplay by Lukas Heller
From the novel by Elleston Trevor
Directed by Robert Aldrich
STARRING
James Stewart .... Capt. Towns
Richard Attenborough.. Lew Moran
Peter Finch .... Capt. Harris
Hardy Krüger .... Dorfmann
Ernest Borgnine... 'Trucker' Cobb
Ian Bannen .... 'Ratbags' Crow
Ronald Fraser .... Sgt. Watson
Christian Marquand.. Dr. Renaud
Dan Duryea .... Standish
George Kennedy .. Mike
Gabriele Tinti .... Gabriel
Alex Montoya .... Carlos
Peter Bravos .... Tasso
William Aldrich .... Bill
and
Barrie Chase ... "Farida"
The Flight of the Phoenix
Yet another film that did not need to be remade but got a remake anyway. But never mind the 2004 version -- here I'm talking about the original 1965 film with Jimmy Stewart, Richard Attenborough, Peter Finch, Ernest Borgnine, Hardy Krüger, and many more first-rate performers. Talk about your dream cast for a 1960s adventure movie... I'd say only Lawrence of Arabia comes close.
I think Jimmy Stewart's performance in this film is often overlooked, even by Stewart fans. It's such a vivid and memorable character that you never once think of the actor's other roles -- there's no trace of George Bailey or Elwood Dowd here. I especially appreciate the subtle changes in his speech and movements as the effects of exhaustion and dehydration take their toll...
Of course he also gets some excellent help in depicting this disintegration. If you are a fan of film makeup artists of the period, you're not surprised this transformation works so well: the makeup supervisor on this film was Ben Nye and one of the makeup artists was Frank Westmore.
I can't explain why I've always been fascinated by shipwreck stories -- I certainly have no desire to ever be marooned anywhere myself. But the shipwreck aspect is part of the appeal of Gulliver, of course, and many more of my favorite works of literature -- such as, well, Elleston Trevor's Flight of the Phoenix, obviously, but also Lord of the Flies, Mysterious Island, the 27th chapter of Acts, and of course South -- the true story of how Sir Ernest Shackleton kept the 28 men of the wrecked Endurance alive for two years in the barren wastes of Antarctica.
And the idea of brave souls trying to stay alive while cut off from civilization has always grabbed me in the movies and on TV as well: The Poseidon Adventure, Land of the Giants (hmm -- apparently Irwin Allen liked shipwreck stories too), the "Galileo Seven" episode of the original Star Trek, and -- I might as well admit it -- Gilligan's Island. Any time you have a group of people huddled together in the wreckage of their craft, I'm interested. (Funny, then, that I never got more interested in Lost. Go figure.)
But for cinema shipwrecks I say you can't beat The Flight of the Phoenix. As with all shipwreck stories, it has at its heart an inspiring glimpse at the human will to survive. And I also love the conflict between the "old way" and the "new way" (embodied by the aging pilot Towns and the young engineer Dorfmann). But Phoenix differs from some shipwreck stories by offering an intriguing question: can a pointless task become worthwhile if it offers hope to people who have none? In other words, is faith -- however blind -- ultimately preferable to despair?
I suppose it's on this metaphorical level that I appreciate this story the most. The question raised here is about our potential as human beings to re-invent ourselves and our surroundings -- to gather the remnants of a hopeless situation and rebuild them into a potential for growth, for success, for happiness. If that isn't a worthwhile concept to ponder, I don't know what is.
All photos © 1965 20th Century Fox