Leslie Howard is R. J. Mitchell, the man who. with the help of his friend (David Niven) and the support of his wife (Rosamund John), designed the speedy monoplanes that won the Schneider Trophy in the 1920s and who later designed the superb British fighter, the Spitfire.
In a modern biography, Mitchell would have to be beset by inner demons, which he would then have to conquer in order to succeed -- maybe booze, mental illness, satyriasis, or the heartbreak of eczema. But in 1942, the story couldn't be fitted into the usual Procrustean bed.
Mitchell's only problem is that he discovers Germany's desire to conquer the known world and works himself to death inventing the airplane that will contribute to the failure of their plans.
At one point, his doctor informs him with brutal candor that he either must give up his work and take a long vacation -- at least a year -- or he has only a few months left to live. (Oh, how I wish some doctor had told ME that. Or given me some other set of Aesculapian orders that would be easy to follow -- "Stay in bed for a year and drink plenty of fluids.") But the doctor is barking up the wrong tree. Mitchell's problem is that he has a Calvinist "calling." In designed the Spitfire he is fulfilling God's plan. The first mate of the Pequod, Starbuck, tried to tell Captain Ahab about all this in "Moby Dick." It was one thing to be a zealous whaler. By providing society with whale oil and ambergris they were doing a service to mankind and carrying out God's will, but Ahab's obsession with the White Whale was personal, and therefore blasphemous. No such problem with Mitchell and the Spitfire.
And what an airplane Mitchell came up with! Oh, it had its weaknesses, couldn't dive abruptly, but when it came to appearances the Spitfire was more than a match for its adversary, the Bf 109. The thin wings were long, wide, and elliptical, like a bird's soaring. And its sleek nose ended in a bullet-shaped spinner. And it was a beauty to fly, quick and nimble, reluctant to stall out. Unlike many fighters of World War II its design suggested not so much power as elegance and grace.
You don't actually get to learn much about the airplane though. You get to learn a lot about R. J. Mitchell, his friends, and his devotion to a cause. It's more of a flag waver than a broad topical study. How could it be otherwise in a 1942 British war movie? Leslie Howard, who looked and acted so English, was of Hungarian ancestry. He had a hand in every department of this film. He directed it himself, and it was his last film effort. His plane was lost over the sea a short time later.
The movie must have meant a lot to wartime audiences. It could profitably be shown today in many high school and college classes because today's students tend to be so ahistorical that they get everything mixed up. When Barbara Tuchman ("The Guns of August") gave a guest lecture at a large Midwestern university on the causes of World War I, a student congratulated her for enlightening him. He'd always wondered why the other was called World War II.
In a modern biography, Mitchell would have to be beset by inner demons, which he would then have to conquer in order to succeed -- maybe booze, mental illness, satyriasis, or the heartbreak of eczema. But in 1942, the story couldn't be fitted into the usual Procrustean bed.
Mitchell's only problem is that he discovers Germany's desire to conquer the known world and works himself to death inventing the airplane that will contribute to the failure of their plans.
At one point, his doctor informs him with brutal candor that he either must give up his work and take a long vacation -- at least a year -- or he has only a few months left to live. (Oh, how I wish some doctor had told ME that. Or given me some other set of Aesculapian orders that would be easy to follow -- "Stay in bed for a year and drink plenty of fluids.") But the doctor is barking up the wrong tree. Mitchell's problem is that he has a Calvinist "calling." In designed the Spitfire he is fulfilling God's plan. The first mate of the Pequod, Starbuck, tried to tell Captain Ahab about all this in "Moby Dick." It was one thing to be a zealous whaler. By providing society with whale oil and ambergris they were doing a service to mankind and carrying out God's will, but Ahab's obsession with the White Whale was personal, and therefore blasphemous. No such problem with Mitchell and the Spitfire.
And what an airplane Mitchell came up with! Oh, it had its weaknesses, couldn't dive abruptly, but when it came to appearances the Spitfire was more than a match for its adversary, the Bf 109. The thin wings were long, wide, and elliptical, like a bird's soaring. And its sleek nose ended in a bullet-shaped spinner. And it was a beauty to fly, quick and nimble, reluctant to stall out. Unlike many fighters of World War II its design suggested not so much power as elegance and grace.
You don't actually get to learn much about the airplane though. You get to learn a lot about R. J. Mitchell, his friends, and his devotion to a cause. It's more of a flag waver than a broad topical study. How could it be otherwise in a 1942 British war movie? Leslie Howard, who looked and acted so English, was of Hungarian ancestry. He had a hand in every department of this film. He directed it himself, and it was his last film effort. His plane was lost over the sea a short time later.
The movie must have meant a lot to wartime audiences. It could profitably be shown today in many high school and college classes because today's students tend to be so ahistorical that they get everything mixed up. When Barbara Tuchman ("The Guns of August") gave a guest lecture at a large Midwestern university on the causes of World War I, a student congratulated her for enlightening him. He'd always wondered why the other was called World War II.