The 1965 release of The
Flight of the Phoenix is my favorite. I wished I’d seen it on the big
screen. I could only imagine how much more captivated I would have been than seeing
it on television. As it was, any time it came on, I was instantly lured into
watching it again. The story of these men trying to survive in the desert while
they worked together with the trust that one of them just might be smart enough
to save all their lives was enthralling. When I heard about the remake, I
hurried to the theater in the hopes that I would re-experience that thrilling
adventure through a new crafting of the story. What I got was–not the same
thrill. Apparently, the powers-that-be thought the story could use a few more
explosions, obvious testosterone, and a hammy chase scene. Each addition was
overly garish. I felt I was looking at a waitress’s overly flared apron instead
of a movie. Until I saw the second one, I had not realized what restraint had been enforced
in the first movie to make it work for the better. The second is a fun film. The first is a thriller. In
drawing this review, I showed elements that exist in both that I liked so much.
