"The plane is damaged, one of his engines is out, and he's leaking fuel. How can he make it?" Something like that anyway. The clichés came so thick and fast I couldn't remember them all. I couldn't even GRASP them all quickly enough, piled as they were, one atop the other, like a pile of Leggos.
I don't really think it's necessary to bother with the script except to say a rogue group of Russians hijacks Air Force One, is overcome by the President of the United States, and most of the good guys are saved and all of the bad guys perish, usually in some colorful fashion.
Wolfgang Petersen made a gripping movie with "Das Boot." It was a long flick of mostly quiet moments, a leisurely examination of life aboard a U-Boat, punctuated with shocking moments of action. In "Air Force One" Petersen's talents have been -- dare I say "hijacked" by Hollywood? There is no leisurely examination of anything. There is neither leisure nor examination. All the parts that might bore a twelve-year-old weaned on Call of Duty have been cut out of the script and nothing is left but one recycled action scene after another, some of them already parodied in "Airplane", backed up by a booming score.
Here's an indication of how the movie was assembled, the kind of thought that went into it. When it was released there appeared an article in the NY Times written by an actor (whose name I now forget) playing one of the characters (whose name I don't know) in innocent conversation with Harrison Ford as the President, when shots are heard from elsewhere in Air Force One as the takeover starts.
As the actor described the first run-through, at the sound of the gunshots, he rose to his feet and sauntered over to the window to find out what was up. He was told he'd have to jump to his feet and run to the door. "Why?" he asked. "The Secret Service is aboard, there are security agents all over. Nobody could possibly be expecting an armed attack. A normal reaction would be to try to find out what the noise was." He was told by the director that everyone in the scene would immediately recognize the gunshots for exactly what they were. Ford, a seasoned veteran of such attacks, told the actor tiredly, "They're gunshots, period." Why waste three or four flaccid seconds having the actor stroll to the door? That kind of dedication and efficiency is in evidence throughout "Air Force One." Bang, bang, whoosh, zap. The President, by the way, is practically superhuman. He speaks Russian albeit with a gloopi American accent. He cuts his bound wrists free and immediately disarms and kills two or three of his captors. I lost count. Well, okay, he was a CMH winner. But then how did he learn to fly a jumbo jet? Never mind.
A more interesting question is how did they pick the villains? Kazakhistan rebels? A rogue group of Russians? This is rather retro stuff because absolutely nobody watching the movie knows or cares about Kazakhistan or its internal affairs. The simple fact is that viewers will see and hear the heavies speaking Russian and that will be enough for them. (I forget when "Crimson Tide" was released, using the same ploy. It's the Russkies again alright, only a splinter group.) The faces of American fighter pilots are illuminated by a comforting pale off-white light, while their opposite numbers are as green as algae. To top it off, the Russian Premier looks like Jonathan Winters coming down from battery acid while our President looks exactly like Harrison Ford. And if you STILL don't get the point, the Kazakhhomaniac rebels sing a rousing version of "Die Internazionale." Nowadays, of course, nine years later, they'd all be speaking Arabic.
The movie offers some fascinating tidbits in addition to its knuckle-whitening suspense. The set representing the interior of Air Force One, for instance. It's full of nooks and crannies and it seems about the size of the Dixie Hotel. Functional furniture, but comfortable and expensive. Soundproof, bulletproof, insulated against an atomic blast. A staff of well-trained servants who know when to leave the master alone to ponder weighty questions about the world's future. (In all these respects it rather resembles my place.) It also has a steam pipe, which the list of clichés calls for, just as in those factories or warehouses in which the final shootout takes place in other action movies. The steam pipe is shot up and people in pursuit of each other wisp their way through the mist. What is that steam pipe doing there? Have we been mistaken all these years about how jet engines work? Are modern airplanes really powered by the same plants that made the Stanley Steamer roll on its merry way? I half expected Ford to stumble across the gigantic elastic band that spun the engine blandes. What makes it finally so preposterous is the notion that this or any other country could organize itself with such alacrity and efficiency in the face of an unexpected emergency of these proportions.
When the president finally contacts the situation room and asks who has taken over Air Force One, the reply is, "A group of Russian ultra-nationalists." This is nothing more than cashing in on ancient hatreds for a buck. And we pay for that self satisfaction on the world stage, by damaging the image of America abroad. How about a Russian movie in which a group of murdering thugs tries to kidnap Vladimir Putin and they are called "American ultra-nationalists"? How would we respond?
As propaganda it is retrograde and execrable crap. As a movie, it's just another "Airport 97" with the president and his family aboard.
I don't really think it's necessary to bother with the script except to say a rogue group of Russians hijacks Air Force One, is overcome by the President of the United States, and most of the good guys are saved and all of the bad guys perish, usually in some colorful fashion.
Wolfgang Petersen made a gripping movie with "Das Boot." It was a long flick of mostly quiet moments, a leisurely examination of life aboard a U-Boat, punctuated with shocking moments of action. In "Air Force One" Petersen's talents have been -- dare I say "hijacked" by Hollywood? There is no leisurely examination of anything. There is neither leisure nor examination. All the parts that might bore a twelve-year-old weaned on Call of Duty have been cut out of the script and nothing is left but one recycled action scene after another, some of them already parodied in "Airplane", backed up by a booming score.
Here's an indication of how the movie was assembled, the kind of thought that went into it. When it was released there appeared an article in the NY Times written by an actor (whose name I now forget) playing one of the characters (whose name I don't know) in innocent conversation with Harrison Ford as the President, when shots are heard from elsewhere in Air Force One as the takeover starts.
As the actor described the first run-through, at the sound of the gunshots, he rose to his feet and sauntered over to the window to find out what was up. He was told he'd have to jump to his feet and run to the door. "Why?" he asked. "The Secret Service is aboard, there are security agents all over. Nobody could possibly be expecting an armed attack. A normal reaction would be to try to find out what the noise was." He was told by the director that everyone in the scene would immediately recognize the gunshots for exactly what they were. Ford, a seasoned veteran of such attacks, told the actor tiredly, "They're gunshots, period." Why waste three or four flaccid seconds having the actor stroll to the door? That kind of dedication and efficiency is in evidence throughout "Air Force One." Bang, bang, whoosh, zap. The President, by the way, is practically superhuman. He speaks Russian albeit with a gloopi American accent. He cuts his bound wrists free and immediately disarms and kills two or three of his captors. I lost count. Well, okay, he was a CMH winner. But then how did he learn to fly a jumbo jet? Never mind.
A more interesting question is how did they pick the villains? Kazakhistan rebels? A rogue group of Russians? This is rather retro stuff because absolutely nobody watching the movie knows or cares about Kazakhistan or its internal affairs. The simple fact is that viewers will see and hear the heavies speaking Russian and that will be enough for them. (I forget when "Crimson Tide" was released, using the same ploy. It's the Russkies again alright, only a splinter group.) The faces of American fighter pilots are illuminated by a comforting pale off-white light, while their opposite numbers are as green as algae. To top it off, the Russian Premier looks like Jonathan Winters coming down from battery acid while our President looks exactly like Harrison Ford. And if you STILL don't get the point, the Kazakhhomaniac rebels sing a rousing version of "Die Internazionale." Nowadays, of course, nine years later, they'd all be speaking Arabic.
The movie offers some fascinating tidbits in addition to its knuckle-whitening suspense. The set representing the interior of Air Force One, for instance. It's full of nooks and crannies and it seems about the size of the Dixie Hotel. Functional furniture, but comfortable and expensive. Soundproof, bulletproof, insulated against an atomic blast. A staff of well-trained servants who know when to leave the master alone to ponder weighty questions about the world's future. (In all these respects it rather resembles my place.) It also has a steam pipe, which the list of clichés calls for, just as in those factories or warehouses in which the final shootout takes place in other action movies. The steam pipe is shot up and people in pursuit of each other wisp their way through the mist. What is that steam pipe doing there? Have we been mistaken all these years about how jet engines work? Are modern airplanes really powered by the same plants that made the Stanley Steamer roll on its merry way? I half expected Ford to stumble across the gigantic elastic band that spun the engine blandes. What makes it finally so preposterous is the notion that this or any other country could organize itself with such alacrity and efficiency in the face of an unexpected emergency of these proportions.
When the president finally contacts the situation room and asks who has taken over Air Force One, the reply is, "A group of Russian ultra-nationalists." This is nothing more than cashing in on ancient hatreds for a buck. And we pay for that self satisfaction on the world stage, by damaging the image of America abroad. How about a Russian movie in which a group of murdering thugs tries to kidnap Vladimir Putin and they are called "American ultra-nationalists"? How would we respond?
As propaganda it is retrograde and execrable crap. As a movie, it's just another "Airport 97" with the president and his family aboard.