There are fine black-and-white scenes of B-17s flying through flak, taking off and landing, belly landing, buzzing the field, and generally roaring around. Not that many films pay attention to the racket and vibrations of a mass of metal being hurled through the air, but "The War Lover" does. Some of it is model work. Much of the footage isn't.
It's England in mid war, and the Flying Fortresses are being sent on dangerous missions. "Dangerous" in the most literal sense. Crews have an alarming tendency not to return to their bases.
Steve McQueen is a captain in the USAF and the pilot of one of these big babies, and Robert Wagner is his copilot. McQueen just loves it. He's the hottest pilot in the squadron and his men feel completely safe with him. He takes a lot of chances but his airplane always returns in immaculate condition.
The problem with McQueen is that he boasts about it so much. He oozes self confidence. To him, war isn't just war. It's a chance to kill people. He seems to get OFF when his bombs explode on the target. He has nothing else going for him.
The romantic business concerning a rivalry between the sensible Wagner and the relentless McQueen over a wraith-like Sally Anne Field is sandwiched between the two combat scenes. In war movies like this, most of the love stories are commonly fatuous, put there perhaps to stretch out the running time, give the audience a rest from its arousal jag, and introduce a bit of sex to keep them interested. When the romances are done well, they can add depth to the characters. This one succeeds. Field embraces Wagner and is openly receptive to him. Not that Wagner is especially tuned to her desires. She wants to marry him and build a home, while he just wants to enjoy the excess of his phenylethylamines. She finds McQueen attractive too, "in a dangerous sort of way" and dresses him down when his advances become too forceful. It takes the wind out of McQueen's sails and he loses his confidence in himself and his life.
John Hersey's novel wasn't as good as this movie, I don't think. The movie's explosive climax has a half-crazy McQueen flying his airplane straight into one of the White Cliffs of Dover. It's an extremely tense scene, with the roar of the airplane, the wind sweeping through the riddled fuselage, and the cliffs growing larger and larger. It's unnerving. I've been through a similar experience with a dead airplane just off Montauk Point, Long Island, only I went into the water, as McQueen does in the novel. His airplane sinks and he goes down with it, holding on to a propeller shaft "for dear death", as Hersey puts it.
Sally Anne Field is compellingly beautiful in an odd way. Her eyebrows seem to have been destined for someone else's face. She can't act. Wagner, my co-star in the superb -- what was it, again? -- "The Wrath of Angels?", "Windmills of the Gods"? Something like that. Anyway, Wagner can act, as least in the manner that Hollywood demands. McQueen has only two expressions here -- a smirk and none at all. It took him a few years to develop his chops. In 1968, he was unimpeachable in "Bullett." It's worth watching. Hersey's discourse on the way war turns people into beasts.
It's England in mid war, and the Flying Fortresses are being sent on dangerous missions. "Dangerous" in the most literal sense. Crews have an alarming tendency not to return to their bases.
Steve McQueen is a captain in the USAF and the pilot of one of these big babies, and Robert Wagner is his copilot. McQueen just loves it. He's the hottest pilot in the squadron and his men feel completely safe with him. He takes a lot of chances but his airplane always returns in immaculate condition.
The problem with McQueen is that he boasts about it so much. He oozes self confidence. To him, war isn't just war. It's a chance to kill people. He seems to get OFF when his bombs explode on the target. He has nothing else going for him.
The romantic business concerning a rivalry between the sensible Wagner and the relentless McQueen over a wraith-like Sally Anne Field is sandwiched between the two combat scenes. In war movies like this, most of the love stories are commonly fatuous, put there perhaps to stretch out the running time, give the audience a rest from its arousal jag, and introduce a bit of sex to keep them interested. When the romances are done well, they can add depth to the characters. This one succeeds. Field embraces Wagner and is openly receptive to him. Not that Wagner is especially tuned to her desires. She wants to marry him and build a home, while he just wants to enjoy the excess of his phenylethylamines. She finds McQueen attractive too, "in a dangerous sort of way" and dresses him down when his advances become too forceful. It takes the wind out of McQueen's sails and he loses his confidence in himself and his life.
John Hersey's novel wasn't as good as this movie, I don't think. The movie's explosive climax has a half-crazy McQueen flying his airplane straight into one of the White Cliffs of Dover. It's an extremely tense scene, with the roar of the airplane, the wind sweeping through the riddled fuselage, and the cliffs growing larger and larger. It's unnerving. I've been through a similar experience with a dead airplane just off Montauk Point, Long Island, only I went into the water, as McQueen does in the novel. His airplane sinks and he goes down with it, holding on to a propeller shaft "for dear death", as Hersey puts it.
Sally Anne Field is compellingly beautiful in an odd way. Her eyebrows seem to have been destined for someone else's face. She can't act. Wagner, my co-star in the superb -- what was it, again? -- "The Wrath of Angels?", "Windmills of the Gods"? Something like that. Anyway, Wagner can act, as least in the manner that Hollywood demands. McQueen has only two expressions here -- a smirk and none at all. It took him a few years to develop his chops. In 1968, he was unimpeachable in "Bullett." It's worth watching. Hersey's discourse on the way war turns people into beasts.