Four stars. Rated PG-13, and much too harshly for dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.9.16
Coulda-woulda-shoulda.
We are a species of
second-guessers.
Even when something has been done
properly, with the desired outcome, we often wonder: Might things have
concluded even better, with a different set of actions?
Far worse, of course, is when an
optimal result is challenged by others who question our judgment. Armchair
quarterbacks who insist that, really, it should have gone down this way.
Human nature. Quite infuriating.
At first blush, Capt. Chesley
“Sully” Sullenberger would seem to be the last man on Earth to be confronted in
such a manner; he is, after all, the hero who glided the disabled US Airways
Flight 1549 Airbus A320 into a flat-out miraculous pancake landing on the
Hudson River, on Jan. 15, 2009, saving the lives of all 155 passengers and
crew. As any pilot can verify, water landings aren’t nearly as “soft” as a dive
into a swimming pool; depending on speed and angle of impact, it’s more like
slamming into a brick wall.
Who, then, could argue with
Sully’s actions, given the results?
Ah, but that’s the hook behind
director Clint Eastwood’s new film, which gains its dramatic tension from a
crackerjack script by Todd Komarnicki, based on Sullenberger’s best-selling
book, Highest Duty. Komarnicki and
Eastwood manage a seemingly impossible feat, by injecting suspense into a
narrative whose outcome we already know.
But that’s the point: Most folks don’t know the full story. Granted,
everybody watched the amazing events on that January afternoon in 2009,
many of us glued to TV sets. But while it’s true Sully saved all 155 people, he
wasn’t able to save the plane itself ... and — sad to say — neither Airbus nor
its insurance underwriters were going to take the loss of a $70 million
aircraft lightly.
Ergo, the second-guessing, and
this film’s suspense, as Sully — played with gravitas by Tom Hanks — and
co-pilot Jeff Skiles (Aaron Eckhart) are grilled, after the fact, by National
Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) investigators who insist, armed with
computer simulation test data, that the plane could have returned safely to the
nearest La Guardia runway, or one at New Jersey’s Teterboro Airport.
And we can’t help wondering:
Could it be true?
At which point, Komarnicki and
Eastwood have us hooked.
Sully is an intriguing choice for Eastwood, in
many ways quite unlike most of his films. It lacks the grim and aggressive tone
of his recent bio-dramas — J. Edgar
and American Sniper — and also lacks
the dramatic intensity of fictional sagas such as Mystic River and Million
Dollar Baby. Nor are we mesmerized by characters as flashy and/or
compelling as those featured in these earlier films.
Sully, in contrast, is quiet, thoughtful and
understated, much like Hanks’ performance. It’s also a short film, clocking in
at an economical 95 minutes: just enough to tell the story and exit the stage
with grace.
But it’s no less powerful for
that brevity, thanks to this story’s emotional core: a Chesley Sullenberger
quite at odds with the smiling hero who made the rounds of TV talk and news
shows, during the weeks immediately following his heroic act. This Sully, so
well depicted by Hanks — absolutely this generation’s holder of the cinematic
Everyman mantle previously worn by Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart — is a man in
silent torment.
He’s assaulted by nightmares —
queasily depicted here, during a prologue — of what might have happened, had he
erred and attempted to guide the plane over the nearby city. It’s an unexpected
portrait: one that’s brave and open-minded, on the actual Sullenberger’s part.
He has no objections.
“The story being told came from
my experiences, and reflects the many challenges that I faced and successfully
overcame, both during and after the flight,” he insists, in a recent statement.
“I was involved in the development, and am thrilled it’s being brought to the
screen.”
Well, OK; that’s slightly
misleading. This isn’t a documentary; it’s a piece of mainstream entertainment,
and Komarnicki has done what all skilled screenwriters do routinely. He has
compressed key events for dramatic impact, in this case suggesting that the
post-mortem NTSB investigation takes place in a matter of days, when in fact the
final report wasn’t issued until May 4, 2010, well over a year later.
That’s Hollywood: the better to
build tension in a tautly assembled drama. (Editor Blu Murray, take a bow.)
Komarnicki also inserts some
extraneous business about financial stress being endured by Sully and his wife,
Lorraine (Laura Linney), apparently as a result of some real estate investment
— early 2009, remember — and the possibility that, if the NTSB verdict goes the
wrong way, and Sully loses his wings, they’d lose their house.
That’s gilding the lily rather
too much, particularly since — having raised the point — the film fails to
grant closure on it.
But that’s a minor caveat.
Eastwood and Komarnicki structure
their film like a mystery, opening as the NTSB investigation begins, with an
immediate claim that the plane could — should — have been saved. Mike O’Malley
is suitably condescending as lead investigator Charles Porter; Anna Gunn is
equally infuriating as co-investigator Elizabeth Data, wielder of the damning
simulation data.
This early scene is quietly
heartbreaking, given that Sully and Skiles enter the room expecting smiles and
applause, and instead face accusations and thinly veiled censure. Hanks plays
the moment in stunned, blinking silence; Eckhart registers disbelief and just
the right level of unspoken, how-dare-you
indignation, glimpsed only in his flashing gaze.
Hanks and Eckhart play well off
each other, both in these tense NTSB sequences and their aftermath, during
aggrieved, late-night jogs on the streets outside their hotel. The chemistry is
solid; we get a strong sense that both of these men believe, in their hearts,
that they did the right thing, and they’ll stand by each other, no matter what
the consequences.
Later, as the full events of that
fateful January morning are depicted during breathtaking flashbacks, Hanks and
Eckhart also are persuasive in the Airbus cockpit: rattling through checklists,
interacting with the cabin crew. Reacting, with surprise, at the bird strike
when, mere minutes after leaving the runway, the plane plows directly into a
flock of geese.
This is a tough moment to sell,
requiring carefully nuanced balance. Hanks and Eckhart both nail it, displaying
just the right amount of rising concern, while outwardly remaining calm and professional.
Indeed, Hanks’ ongoing dynamic
with Eckhart is far superior to his connection with Linney. Sully and Lorraine
never are in the same room during this film; they communicate only via phone
calls. The actors don’t quite click, and Linney makes Lorraine seem needlessly
self-absorbed.
Patch Darragh is memorable as
Patrick Harten, the air traffic controller who responds to Sully’s mayday call.
Jane Gabbert, Ann Cusack and Molly Hagan are equally persuasive as the plane’s
three flight attendants. We don’t get to know many of the passengers; aside
from one young woman with a baby, and three last-minute boarders, they remain
anonymous.
But not entirely faceless. The
drama didn’t end when Sully successfully “landed” the plane, because the
Hudson’s frigid temperature was cold enough to kill anybody who remained in the
water for more than a few minutes. This peril is conveyed, quite vividly, via
what happens to a few of the de-planing passengers.
The crippled plane’s descent and
landing are depicted authentically by visual effects supervisor Michael Owens:
realistic enough to frighten viewers already nervous about airplane travel.
Christian Jacob and the Tierney
Sutton Band deliver the understated score, employed sparingly — usually as
quiet solo piano riffs — during key moments.
The final result is impressive,
both for its honorable account of these events, and for the clever manner in
which Eastwood and Komarnicki keep us hanging. I’ve no doubt sales of
Sullenberger’s book will rocket for the next few weeks; I also highly recommend
William Langewiesche’s meticulous article, in the May 2009 issue of Vanity Fair.
Quite
a story.
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