So, I saw "Top Gun" yesterday, and my personal reaction was that I should have settled for a flyby.
/
nope, i don’t know why they were on this boat, either
The first problem was the noise: it was crushingly loud, from previews of coming attractions (none that I’ll be seeing, it turns out), to the film itself: I spent probably 3/4 of the 2 hours with my fingers stuck in my ears, and that didn’t predispose me to enjoy the movie.
The movie itself was okay: it’s supposed to be about guys (and, the now-obligatory perky female) flying fighter jets around, and that’s what it delivers. A single, thin coat hanger is all that’s necessary to hang the plot on, and that's what you get. There’s no time wasted on character development, and a sparse assortment of cardboard figures is put in front of the camera to fill time between the flight scenes: the washed-out ace; the stern admiral who, somehow, you suspect, is going to be shuffled around from the disapproving slot to the “what a guy” admiration slot by the film’s end; “the kid” who doesn’t think he can make it, but does, the vain bully who, to the viewer’s utter amazement, also turns around, and becomes just a real softie by the time we reach climax, and so on.
And no mushy stuff, either. There’s the ex-girlfriend with the broken heart, of course — she too will come around by the movie’s end — but, in total, maybe five minutes is all that’s devoted to that nonsense, because there are jets to fly, damn it, and that’s as it should be: the audience, including myself, is there to see the planes, not some hot babe’s rear-end (fully-clothed, because this is a PG13 movie) being patted by a midget — that’s another movie.
There is one, truly bizarre, 3-minute scene where she and the Ace go sailing one afternoon on rough seas, the girl in command at the helm, the Ace fumbling to drop the jib and raise the spinnaker, and despite the high drama that kind of activity brings to the otherwise paint-drying excitement offered by sailboats sailing, I found myself wondering what on earth the script intended with this digression, one that had to have cost a full week’s filming. Was it Hollywood’s idea of “high-art”, using symbolism to illustrate the choppy state of the pair’s relationship? A sop to the yacht builder, who was somehow finagled into sponsoring the film by offering a product placement? I had no idea then, and still don’t, but, again: the jets.
I return to my biggest complaint, the one that prevented me from just sitting back and enjoying the film for what it is, the friggin’ volume. In the movie, crew members on the flight deck are all equipped with ear muffs; the audience should be extended the same courtesy.
PROTIP: if watching sails go up and down isn’t sufficient drama for you, I suggest “Waiting for Guffman”; here’s a sample, with Christopher Guest himself:
