Movie Review

  • The Plainsman (1936)

    The Plainsman (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) While I can appreciate individual westerns, I am not a genre western fan and a quick look at The Plainsman demonstrates why. Now best known as an amalgamation of historical mistakes and simplifications (so much so that there’s even an academic article cleverly arguing for its less-than-terrible authenticity) by notoriously loose director Cecil B. DeMille, The Plainsman plays like a who’s who of historical western figures even if they never significantly interacted or if the chronology doesn’t make sense (such as having Lincoln in the opening scene of a post-Civil War film). The film does score points for featuring big 1930s stars such as Gary Cooper and Jean Arthur, but the impact of the result is underwhelming. Part of it is having Western as a spectacle of American expansionism, which gets less effective one centimetre past the American frontier. It probably doesn’t help that The Plainsman is as plain as Westerns got at the time—let’s remember that the big revolution in western-as-a-deeper-genre came years later with Stagecoach. Until then, The Plainsman is still a western about the western, since it cares so little about the facts to make any impact as historical fiction. Both Cooper and Arthur were bland stars at their best, and this film doesn’t do much to make them look any better. (Although Arthur with a bullwhip is definitely something special.)  I strongly suspect that I’d like The Plainsman if I had more interest in western history, or even in westerns as genre. As such, it simply looks average—although the glut of much better westerns to come in later decades may work against even the best of what the 1930s had to offer.

  • Brown Sugar (2002)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) I’m fond of saying that an interesting setting can make even a formula romantic comedy seem far more interesting, and this is exactly what happens in Brown Sugar… at least when it remembers what its setting actually is. Set in Manhattan at the turn of the century, Brown Sugar begins with a succession of cameos from hip-hop stars telling us about the moment they fell in love with the genre. A flurry of genre references firmly establishes the film as being about hip-hop, seen through our lead character’s own love for music. The very likable Sanaa Lathan plays a music magazine editor who ends up falling for her long-time best friend (the equally likable Taye Diggs) at the very moment when he’s getting married and she’s getting into a serious relationship. Blending music with romance, Brown Sugar is at its best when writer-director Rick Famuyiwa focuses on the music—which is admittedly less and less so as the film progresses. Lathan and Diggs are great leads for a romantic comedy, but hip-hop fans may be more impressed by supporting turns from Mos Def and Queen Latifah alongside the dozen artists seen in the opening segment. In terms of story, Brown Sugar doesn’t offer much that’s new, although its willingness to portray its central romantic relationship as adultery (albeit on a partner intent on cheating) does remain unusual. It’s not a bad time, though, even if the deviations from reality get more and more noticeable as it goes on—find me a radio station that operates the way “Hot 97” does and I’ll be very surprised. Still, like the characters themselves say, the music is the most important thing—even more than romance, in Brown Sugar’s case.

  • Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) You could count on director Otto Preminger for upsetting sensibilities in film after film, and while Bunny Lake is Missing doesn’t have some of the more overt provocation found in his other films, it’s still an unnerving watch. Adapting The Lady Vanishes to feature a four-year-old, it has us questioning the sanity of a young woman claiming that her four-year-old daughter has been abducted despite there being no proof of the child’s existence. Lying or deluded? Have no fear: an inspector (played by Alec Guinness) is on the case, even though he proves an accessory to the protagonist finding out the truth on her own. Shot in detailed black-and-white cinematography and set in London, the film does give a passably unpleasant impression of unhelpful bystanders and dingy locations, everyone aligned against the protagonist. (Although shades of the Swingin’ Sixties occasionally make an appearance, such as unusual rock music from The Zombies as played on background television.) Carol Lynley is fine as the protagonist, but Keir Dullea and Noël Coward and Guinness arguably make more of an impression in easier roles. While the film does feel repetitive at the time, there’s some good tension in the proceedings, and a finale that veers into outright bizarre childhood games. Still, Preminger being Preminger, Bunny Lake is Missing is distinctive enough.

  • Hellraiser: Bloodline (1996)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) It’s easy to measure Hellraiser: Bloodline’s ambitions against the means at its disposal and condemn the result. But compared to other films in the series, its ambitions become one of the best things about it, even if the low-budget (and considerable behind-the-camera drama leading to “An Adam Smithee film”) doesn’t allow it to fulfill those ambitions. For one thing, this is probably the most mythology-heavy instalment in the series, as it explains how the Lament Configuration (i.e.: The series’ iconic Puzzle Box) came to be in 1769 Paris, follows the current-day setting of the series as left off in previous film, all the while being narrated by a descendant of the characters in a 2127 space station. It’s a bold expansion of scope, but the film doesn’t do much in terms of cross-linking the eras: it’s mostly a historical prologue and futuristic framing device/third act for the current-day story. There’s a mildly interesting contrast between old-school seduction of the innocent versus modern-day BDSM-tinted depictions of hell, and the film concludes with a definitive happy ending of sorts, the threat having been exterminated from existence. No wonder, then, if Bloodline was the last of the series’ theatrical releases, the last to feature creator Clive Barker’s credited input and the last to get mildly positive (if often mixed) reviews from fans of the series—the following six instalments would be sent straight to video and become steadily less interesting along the way. Now, Bloodline doesn’t get a free pass on the sole strength of its more ambitious storytelling: the film is often surprisingly dull, with genre formula popping up even in the most unexpected places. (Hellraiser was faaar from being the only horror series to go to space.) Even with more imaginative ambitions, Bloodline also manages to be less unnerving than much of the previous films, which feels like a wasted opportunity. Still, if forced to choose, I find that there’s more to chew on in Bloodline than any of the other films in the series. Underdelivering on promising material, after all, has been a fixture of the series since the earliest film—At least Bloodline starts with more ideas than the other instalments.

  • La guerre du feu [Quest for Fire] (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2021) Director Jean-Jacques Annaud’s filmography is filled with unusual projects, but you could argue that he still hasn’t topped La guerre du feu in terms of high concept. Set in prehistoric times 80,000 years ago, it’s a film with exclusively grunted dialogue not meant to be readily understood. The protagonists are trying to find a source of fire after theirs is extinguished—but the quest proves to be an excuse to explore a very different world. This is the earliest-set film I can remember seeing: Alpha and The Clan of the Cave Bear are comparatively modern films by being set 20,000 years ago, while 10,000 BC self-identifies as the youngest of the bunch. The characters don’t have the social graces we take for granted, so the film can veer into rough sex sequences as quickly as violent scenes. While Ron Perlman is recognizable (in a bit of genius casting), fans of Rae Dawn Chong will have a harder time recognizing her—or having any fun at her somewhat difficult character journey. But then again everyone is grimy, dirty, violent and uncultured here: even as a not-entirely-fact-based depiction of early humans, La guerre du feu is a reminder that education and knowledge, more than biology, is what separates us from early humans. I just wish that the film would be more interesting than its premise—at 100 minutes with no understandable dialogue, the film can often feel exasperating and the blunt portrayal of violence can be tiresome as well. I often refer to films as primitive forms of time travel, but La guerre du feu is in one period of (pre)history that you don’t necessarily want to visit for very long. It’s an achievement all right (and a proud Canadian co-production as well), but I would have a hard time considering it fun.

  • The Glass Bottom Boat (1966)

    The Glass Bottom Boat (1966)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) It’s not always a bad thing for a film to be dated. You can very precisely identify The Glass Bottom Boat as a mid-1960s film in at least three ways. Obviously, there’s the technological element, as it’s a comedy set around the world of space exploration, specifically revolving around the iconography of the Gemini capsules that preceded the Apollo program. You could also pinpoint it thanks to the presence of Doris Day as a gaffe-prone PR person who attracts the eye of a CEO played by square-jawed Rod Taylor—Day is clearly in her later-stage persona here, too old to play ingenue like she did in the 1950s but still of a stature that would justify a star vehicle like this, along with Taylor, who was at the height of his popularity as a leading man. (As it turns out, The Glass Bottom Boat was Day’s last big box-office hit.)  Finally, there’s the naughty-nice tone of the romantic comedy, a bit freer than the Hays Code standard but not quite as vulgar as what we’d see later on in New Hollywood movies. Mix in the Cold War comedy of a military/industrial establishment and director Frank Tashlin’s cartoonish style and you’ve got something that could only have been created in the mid-sixties. It has definitely aged: the soundtrack highlights every joke twice, Day plays a character that would be embarrassing to later generations, and the blunt broad humour goes better with a big dose of period atmosphere. But it’s not that bad if you’re willing to play along. Day was a gifted comedienne no matter the circumstances, and the goofier moments (including a portrayal of an automated kitchen—complete with an antagonistic cleaning robot) are straight out of space-age silliness. Comedy notables such as Robert Vaughn, Dom DeLuise, and Dick Martin appear in various small roles, adding to the period feel. (You will probably hear Vaughn’s split-second appearance more than you’ll see it.)  It turns out that a dated film gets a few additional viewing bonuses along the way—it’s not what we’d expect to see today, but it’s a welcome throwback to an entirely different time. So it is with The Glass Bottom Boat, which has aged into a unique curio that sometimes tells us more about the 1960s than the respectable films of the time, or any attempt to re-create that period.

  • The Smiling Lieutenant (1931)

    The Smiling Lieutenant (1931)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) There are a surprising number of reasons why The Smiling Lieutenant remains worth a look ninety years later. It is, perhaps most notably, an early Oscar nominee—at a time when frothy romantic comedies could actually win (and sometimes even win!) a Best Picture Academy Award. (Amazingly, it disappeared from circulation for a few decades until a copy was rediscovered in the 1990s.)  But it’s also an example of what writer-director Ernest Lubitsch could do in the Pre-Code era, tacking adult themes and racy narratives that would become impossible to sneak past the censors even a few years later. Finally, it’s an early film featuring no less than a dashing and impossibly charming Maurice Chevalier, Claudette Colbert’s adorably round cheeks (with the great comic timing that came with them), and the lesser-known Miriam Hopkins, whose star has faded somewhat in the intervening decades despite being a box-office sensation in the 1930s. The premise has to do with a young officer smiling and winking at his beloved—but the gesture is also being received by a lovelorn princess who, through various circumstances, gets her hooks deep into the lieutenant. What becomes a romantic triangle eventually reaches a still-surprising conclusion, but not before a quick wedding and unlikely makeover by a romantic rival. As with most Lubitsch films, there is a distinctive quality to The Smiling Lieutenant that makes it worth a look even if the results aren’t quite up to the premise—of all comparable films, I still much prefer One Hour with You. Still, it’s funny, sophisticated and substantially more daring than what would follow under the Hays Code. I’m not that happy with the final few minutes of the film and history tells us that the production of the film didn’t match the fun experience on-screen (Chevalier had to contend with the death of his mother during production), but the result is still worth a look with a Pre-Code kick that still amazes.

  • The Honey Pot (1967)

    The Honey Pot (1967)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) I’m rarely disappointed by a Joseph L. Mankiewicz film, and The Honey Pot is no exception. It’s clearly a latter-day work by a filmmaker who understands the business inside and out, so deftly does it play with conventions and delivers something that escapes pure formula. It constantly (but smoothly) shifts tone and rhythm in ways that would seem doomed in theory, but works out well on-screen. It starts with a lengthy sequence during which an out-of-work actor is hired by a rich man for a special kind of acting job. Then things change as three past flames arrive, and murder interrupts everyone’s plans. Mankiewicz changes protagonist, plays with voice-overs (all the way to giving a voice to a dead character), messes with story structure and can’t help but include some really good quotable material in the middle of it all. If you think that you’ve got a handle on the story, you’ll keep changing your mind. Rex Harrison turns in a good performance as an aged playboy calling back his most significant past flames, while Cliff Robertson isn’t bad as the one we’re supposed to cheer for (well, maybe)—there’s a Jason Bateman-like quality to his performance that would almost justify a remake. If The Honey Pot has a flaw, it’s that it’s very obviously a film that relies on being different—the behaviour of the characters is clearly manipulated by the demands of the script, the overly cute references to other material or the artificial conventions of romantic comedies. The last few minutes of the film rely on a wrinkle of inheritance law that clearly belongs to legal fiction. But, somehow, it works. Even the damp dark depressing setting of overcast Venice (done 1970s-style in what looks like an un-restored print, which is even drearier than reality) can’t quite sap the narrative inventiveness of the result. I strongly suspect that The Honey Pot won’t sit well with viewers simply looking for something simple to watch. But it’s a bit of a gift to jaded audiences looking for someone intent on colouring outside the lines.

  • Extraction (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Netflix Streaming, January 2021) I definitely have mixed feelings about the recent spate of action movies heading out to less fortunate countries in order for their white male leads to have explosive adventures. While you can make a case that such movies expose viewers to more diverse landscapes, while you can argue that such settings can accommodate more extreme action sequences, while you can make a serious argument that a filmmaking dollar goes further in such environments—it doesn’t negate the problematic aspects of white protagonists gunning down dozens of foreigners, nor the negative portrayal of portraying such disadvantaged countries as hotbeds of villainy justifying carnage. Extraction doesn’t get a free pass here, as an Australian mercenary (a capable Chris Hemsworth) is recruited to go to Dhaka, Bangladesh, to rescue the child of a drug lord kidnapped by a rival. Very quickly, we come to understand the dark and merciless nature of the world portrayed here, with extreme violence (rather than money) being the currency by which the plot advances. Double-crosses are stupefyingly common, and it’s hard to find any moral advantage in the half-dozen leads fighting it out. Dhaka becomes a playground for big action sequences, and it’s in portraying action that Extraction shines most brightly. Scripted by Joe Russo and directed by stuntman Sam Hargrave (who also pops up in a secondary role), Extraction is best experienced as an anthology of good-to-great action sequences loosely strung together. The final set piece, set on a bridge, is expansive and convincing in a way that probably would have been impossible to shoot in an American city. Hargrave, who also choreographed that scene from Atomic Blonde, is up to his best tricks here with a directing style that immerses viewers in the unfolding mayhem, stitching multiple beats together in seemingly continuous scenes. I suppose that many who watched the film (a top streamer for Netflix with a surprising number of votes on IMDB) did so for Hemsworth, who easily commands the films—that’s okay, I was watching for the always-fascinating Golshifteh Farahani, especially as her role becomes more action-centric in the film’s third act. Had it been less successful in its execution, or featured lesser actors, Extraction could have easily become one of these bleak generic action thrillers that seem to come out by the dozens every year. But Extraction is what happens when the execution outstrips the premise—the result is easily better on screen than on paper.

  • The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934)

    The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) There’s a special place for The Scarlet Pimpernel (the character) in fictional history, considering that it inspired the motif of (super)heroes with a hidden identity, preceding Zorro, which preceded Batman. Considering that Emma Orczy’s The Scarlet Pimpernel (the novel) is an adventure tale set at the time of the French Revolution featuring a mild aristocrat-by-day becoming a wild swordsman-by-night, it’s possible to imagine any adaptation leaning on one or two directions, either as a swashbuckling adventure, or as a period costume drama. Unfortunately for me, I was expecting the first and received the second in the 1934 version of The Scarlet Pimpernel. While the film is not devoid of sword-fighting action sequences, it mostly goes in the period drama direction. The costumes and sets are sumptuous, but modern viewers will miss the steady pace of action sequences that more modern adaptations would have been sure to include. It’s not entirely fair to second-guess the storytelling instincts of previous generations—after all, producer Alexander Korda clearly knew what he was doing, and the result was one of Great Britain’s top-grossing films of 1934. But modern viewers will find it impossible to watch The Scarlet Pimpernel and not see where the film could have been pumped up with more action for an even more engaging result—as it is, it feels too slow, too talky and too dull despite a fascinating premise. Oh well—seeing how the Three Musketeers have been reinterpreted in steadily more action-filled ways over the decades, maybe it’s not a good idea to wish for a remake.

  • Deathtrap (1982)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) Murder mystery and theatrical metafiction meet in Deathtrap, an enjoyable and unpredictable dark comedy starring Michael Caine and Christopher Reeves. It opens on Caine as a playwright experiencing a fourth failure in a row and retreating to his rural mansion, where he explains to his wife that he just read the most brilliant play by a complete novice, and the best plot he can think about is to murder the young writer and steal the play. Shortly thereafter, he invites the apprentice playwright home… but saying more would be a disservice, so quickly does the film go through different narrative configurations. Christopher Reeves plays the younger writer with an edge rarely seen in other films from him—not only does Deathtrap feature an explicit homosexual kiss (albeit as a mark of villainy—the early 1980s weren’t that progressive), but there’s a shot that makes him look like a maniacal Bruce Campbell at some point. The somewhat forgotten Dyan Cannon (whose career peaked between 1969 and 1982) has a decent role here, but the stars are clearly Caine and Reeves, especially as their antagonism becomes more explicit. Given the film’s origin in a long-running, widely acclaimed play by Ira Levin, there are plenty of metatheatrical references to be found (“It’s a two-act play with five characters,” says one of the five characters of a two-act play…), which adds both to its comedy and wittiness. The limited number of characters, dark comedy, secluded location and featured role for Caine immediately draw parallels with 1972’s Sleuth, but while both movies belong to the same subgenre, they’re sufficiently different as to make a great double feature rather than repeat themselves. (You could also make a double feature with 2019’s Knives Out, considering the wall-of-weapons and mystery-writers-getting-into-the-business motifs.)  The metafiction carries through to the climactic ending, which seems cheap at first glance but appreciates with time. Even with its quirks, Deathtrap remains a very enjoyable comic thriller, not always audience-friendly at times but certainly surprising and memorable.

  • Boys’ Night Out (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) What I like about 1960s sex comedies is the very specific tone that they have, sufficiently freed from the Hays Code to tackle more salacious topics such as the ongoing sexual revolution, but still unwilling to be vulgar about it—it’s naughty without being upsetting and while I wouldn’t want to see that tone everywhere, it’s a welcome change of pace. The premise of Boys’ Night Out is simple, what with four men pooling their money to rent an apartment in Manhattan. If you want to compare eras and tone, keep in mind that there’s a 2014 “erotic thriller” called The Loft (itself a remake of a 2008 Dutch film) that shares that exact same premise—but the later R-rated film goes all-in on graphic content and murder. Boys’ Night Out is arguably funnier to modern-day audiences, as we can clearly picture where the film could but chooses not to go—because while our four men (three married, one divorced) may tell the others that they’re in for the young blonde “housekeeper” inhabiting the apartment, things are very different (and much funnier) once the married men get their night out: One simply wants to eat more than the health food prepared by his wife; another wants to talk without constantly being interrupted; the third simply wants to repair things around the apartment. Meanwhile, our divorced protagonist (the very likable James Garner) falls for the housekeeper and gets jealous of the achievements made up by his three friends. It’s all slightly naughty but not really, and the film does hit a good rhythm during its second third, especially when the “housekeeper” is revealed to be doing field research on a sociology thesis exemplified by the three married men. Boys’ Night Out offers a comic take on the Mad Men-ish era of henpecked husbands living the commuter train lifestyle, blunt gendered stereotypes and all. It does become less effective during its third act, as the comedy wears out while the film desperately tries to wrap up everything in a way that leaves everyone happy, wives included—the pace slows down considerably, and by the time the last fifteen minutes roll by, there aren’t any surprises left—just a drawn-out execution of something entirely predictable. Tighten that third act and it would be a much better film—but it serves well as a time capsule comedy, as a showcase for Kim Novak playing broad comedy, or another very similar film featuring Tony Randall in a very familiar role. Boys’ Night Out is fun and practically plays as family-friendly entertainment despite the subject matter, so innocuous is it in presenting its then-risqué subject matter.

  • Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2021) Even if Hellraiser III manages to run with the very last moments of Hellraiser II and much of its thematic content, this third entry clearly marks a shift in the series. The main narrative of the first two films is abandoned along with its protagonist, and the emphasis is placed on showing more of the Cenobites in an urban environment. The usual “raising of the dead by blood sacrifice” eventually leads to an entire nightclub being killed or possessed, and a few scenes set at night in downtown Generic City, USA. The plotting feels much closer to any other horror film of the time, and the place reserved for the gore clearly shows how the film aligns itself with the expectations of the genre horror fans. (New director, moving production to the United States and a takeover by genre-focused studio Dimension will do that.) Parts of Hellraiser III are better than you’d expect, especially for the third instalment of a series that is slowly becoming worse at each instalment. The subplot about Pinhead being a British officer fighting to regain his humanity is developed from the previous film, as is the somewhat underwhelming “pillar” that appears at the very end of the second film. The nightclub massacre, as gory as it is, finally shows what happens when the series goes all-out in its flesh-tearing horror—and the showdown in the city streets outside, as limited as it is, finally expands the series outside the walls of its previous settings. On the other hand, Hellraiser III can be frustratingly generic at other times, running through the motions of a formula horror narrative. The best thing you can say about it is that while it’s slightly less interesting than its predecessor, it’s not yet bad enough to stop watching the series. But just wait.

  • Tenet (2020)

    Tenet (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Video on-Demand, January 2021) I’m favourably predisposed toward anything from writer-director Christopher Nolan, but it’s not an uncritical stance, especially when Tenet doesn’t quite manage to meet its own objectives. It’s certainly, unmistakably a Nolan film: You can quickly recognize his thematic preoccupation with time, his love for spy thrillers, his willingness to play with narrative structure and the thematic winks toward filmmaking. You can once again experience the cool palette of colours, the crisp cinematography, the bombastic score and many of his usual favourite actors. (The theatrical experience of watching Tenet was reportedly marred by inappropriate sound mixing, but that doesn’t seem to be the case on home video—and I watch movies with subtitles anyway.)  But Nolan can be too clever for his own good, and Tenet’s gimmick—reversing the time flow—is intriguing at first, then nonsensical in its details, then fascinating again when it leads to big novel action sequences, then incomprehensible again when you start asking questions. Tenet hovers perilously on the edge of disbelief, sometimes retreating to the unquestioning safety of a slam-bang action sequence, at other times hampered by its own confusion. I did love much of the first half-hour for the way it sets up a high-octane modern spy thriller, as if James Bond dove in Science Fiction and reinvigorated its formula. John David Washington makes for a good action hero, and while I’m already steadily growing more favourable to Robert Pattinson, this is the film that reassured me that he’s going to age into a great career. Elizabeth Debicki improves the longer the film goes on, ultimately getting up to Widows-level shenanigans late in the third act. Michael Caine has a terrific one-scene cameo, and Dimple Kapadia is also quite intriguing in a strong supporting role. Still, the star here is Nolan, as he builds an ambitious film that goes back and forth in its temporal narrative and delivers impressive showpieces. Fans of time-travel movies will learn to recognize the usual touches of the genre—Tenet is a film that benefits from a second watch, or reading a thorough analysis of it shortly after first viewing. The action sequence at the middle of the film is easily better than the too-chaotic conclusion that mars the third act—I recognize what Nolan was trying to do, but much of it simply appears confusing for confusion’s sake—or worse for visuals that don’t fit into the overall logic of the film. Compared to the luminous clarity of Inception, Tenet feels undercooked, leading viewers to ask questions about plausibility that are not to the film’s benefit. I still had a good time watching it, but I can’t help but remain unsatisfied by the result—it’s 75% of a great movie, and while that’s far preferable to most contemporary thrillers, it falls short of what Nolan usually delivers.

  • Come Fly with Me (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) In retrospect, the popularization of passenger air travel in the 1960s had some really weird second-order effects, and one of the most trivial of them was a small but distinctive wave of pop culture focused on the new archetype of the stewardess. From the funny 1965 Jerry Lewis vehicle Boeing, Boeing to the naughty 1969 “exposé” Coffee, Tea or Me?, stewardesses held America’s attention during the 1960s, and Come Fly with Me was one of the earliest examples of the form. Alas, it pales in comparison to its spiritual inheritors—While Come Fly With Me features no less than three parallel romances between our lead trio of stewardesses and their passengers and flying crew, it has very little grace or elegance in how it presents its romantic subplots. As directed by Henry Levin, it’s far less funny or flirty as it presents itself, and becomes predictable far too early, with little in terms of small details to keep it interesting. While it does remain an illustration of the time and how international air travel could be presented as aspirational to mass audiences of the time, there is very little to Come Fly with Me to make it interesting to modern audiences. Compared to the outdated but still funny farce of Boeing Boeing, it makes Come Fly with Me seem much smaller and conventional. Even the date of the film isn’t much of an excuse—while the Hays Code was still generally applicable in the early 1963, I can point to many more salacious romantic comedies of the time that easily outwit Come Fly with Me in terms of naughtiness or comedy. It’s an occasionally interesting glimpse at the past, but not something worth booking an airplane ticket for.