“The Right Stuff” had lots of the “right stuff” for pleasurable movie viewing for both my husband and I. That in itself is a grand accomplishment: heroism, comedy, recent historical commentary, adrenalin, macho men and machines for him and character development, good acting, sophisticated social commentary and irony for her. A good “his” and “her” movie. It’s not that easy when you go to try to find a good “date night” movie; at least it’s not that easy at our house.
Well, I’ll just skip over the “his” part and get down to the brass tacks on the stuff I like. I had not seen this film presented on TVO's Saturday Night at the Movies or anywhere else. I found that there were more than enough suspense and laughs to go around. I found that some of it got funnier the second time around when I watched the first half of the movie on the second showing. I was also able to concentrate more on some of the more subtle aspects of the commentary when I saw the repeat performance.
At first, I asked my husband (who had seen the movie before) why we were looking at a film that starts in 1947 and is apparently about test pilots. “I thought this was about the space race and all that!” was my uninformed remark. My husband kindly explained to me that without the test pilots and the supersonic jets under development in 1947 there would have been no “space race”. “Oh,” said I. Well, that makes sense when you think about it.
There is the historical necessity of relating these two parallel plots, the evolution of the work of the test pilots on the Edwards Air Force Base and the Mercury Space Program. However, I found that the dramatic device being employed here by the filmmakers in creating the parallel to be of more interest.
By juxtaposing the two plots, both the similarities and the contrasts between the plots speak more loudly. At the beginning of the film, the test pilots do their work out in the back country of California in relative secrecy – “And nobody knew their names.” Chuck Yeager is played by Sam Shepherd as an unsung hero, a kind of taciturn old-fashioned cowboy who cares neither for fame nor for money in his wrangling with that old demon who lives in the sky. Yeager is a real American legend.
John Glenn, Alan Shepard and crew were a different type of All-American hero. They belonged to a different age, a modern era where everyone knew their names. The film explores the manufacturing of the All-American hero palatable for public consumption.
Yeager and his bunch remain aloof from the Washington image-makers and the press, giving them a long look over the top of a whiskey glass and a one-two knockout punch: “What you need here is a lab rabbit with a wire up his kazoo,” says Yeager. The Brotherhood of reclusive test pilots, the best of the best, are judged unsuitable for the job because they are too “unmanageable” for the handlers. The way the film plays it, Yeager has “the right stuff” in abundance; that elusive quality of bravery, perservance, self-control, true grit and some kind of “magic” that legends are made of all rolled into one. The “talent scouts” somehow can’t recognize the real thing because it doesn’t fit their “profile”. They therefore set about manufacturing heroes made in their own image.
After the circus personnel and the stunt car drivers don’t work out so well, NASA is left with monkies and a collection of Air Force and Navy aviators. Eventually the astronauts wise-up to the game and decide to use the power of the press to their own advantage, something which the chimps were apparently not able to do. As a group, the Mercury astronauts decide that they are going to take control and use the leverage of the press and their public image as a way of maintaining their dominence in the space program over the monkeys – “The public is expecting ‘Buck Rogers’ to step out of a space capsule and wave to them – not some chimp!” The way that NASA and Washington handle the whole Mercury Rocket dossier during the craziness of the space race is examined here with a rather critical view.
The power of the public image and the manufacturing of the All-American hero is a sword that cuts both ways, as we see from the unfortunate example of Gus Grissom. Grissom’s space flight goes flat when the capsule sinks unexpectedly after the porthole blows open. Betty Grissom carries on about how unfair life is. She will not get to hobnob with Jackie Kennedy. The second rate hotel with a fridge full of booze next to a Florida highway is insufficient compensation for her contributions as an air force wife. Gus stands shamefaced on the runway as the camera cuts away to the hurried version of the marching ban and award ceremony. There will be no ticker tape parade with the convertible. More than his own disappointment, Grisshom has to deal with the ire of his wife.
But Betty has a point. One of the most interesting things for me about the film is the exploration, not of space, but of the vast internal terrain of human emotion and behaviour in a pressurized environment. The character of Betty Grissom has conned herself into believing that she is taking unbelievable risks in being married to a test pilot, but that the Air Force will always be there for her in the end. The Air Force does not come through. Betty feels betrayed. It seems like a belief fundamental to her ability to cope with the stress of her life’s lot has been completely undermined by this betrayal. Instead of being grateful that her husband got out of there alive (at least this time around), all Betty can focus on is how she didn’t get what she expected.
Each of the wives of the primary characters is shown coping with the stress of the situation in a different way. They also have different ways of relating to their husbands.
Louise Shepard is shown as basking in the attention of the media in her moment of fame as the dutiful and idealized Navy wife. She is apparently oblivious to or willfully ignorent of her husband’s behind the scenes shenanigans. Perhaps she chooses to ignore the reality of the dangers and “hope for the best” until the tragedy is actually upon her.
Trudy Cooper walks out on Gordo as her solution to the ever-present risk of loss and tragedy. Gordo playfully holds up burnt-up hotdog at a backyard barbecue and all Trudy can see is a portent of the future of the “best test pilot she knows”-her husband’s charred remains in a body bag. She flees in horror.
Glennis Yeager has an interesting take on the predicament. She knows that she can’t change her husband; she doesn’t want to. Glennis is a fascinating character in the movie. I think we are meant to be fascinated with her just as Yeager himself is an enigmatic and endlessly fascinating figure. We see her engaged in a wildly romantic ride through the California desert with her husband followed by a scene where she is standing in tortured ambivalence leaning against the car during a test flight. You get the picture that Chuck is not the only daredevil in the family. Later on, after a successful flight, Glennis is out there carousing with the best of them. It seems like Mrs. Yeager’s strategy is one of “if you can’t beat’em, join’em”. Glennis makes a big speech near the end of the film where she basically tells Chuck that she doesn’t want him to take it easy and go into retirement. She understands that there is something in him that keeps him “chasing the demon”. It is all wonderfully romantic. And somehow, Chuck makes it through another test flight alive. I do wonder though where Mrs. Yeager’s philosophy would have taken her if Chuck had not made it - other than straight to a bottomless bottle of whiskey.
Ever-present in the film is that black-suited undertaker figure. In an early scene we see him ominously approaching the screened door of a newly made widow clutching her child to her breast, screaming, “No!” The undertaker sings on two occasions a hymn that I remember as being dedicated to lost seafarers and not to airmen. The occasion, is of course, a test pilot’s funeral. Apparently there is ample work for the black-suited figure around the air base. You notice that no one but the undertaker sings the hymn. It is a mere formality – an added touch that comes with the platinum package at the funeral home. I’m not sure that anyone, the scriptwriters included, paid much attention to what the hymn actually says.
And then there is John Glenn’s wife, Annie. We first hear of Annie during John Glenn’s T.V. appearance on a game show. Glenn speaks in glowing terms of his history with his wife. It seems all too good to be true. In general, John Glenn as portrayed by Ed Harris is some kind of overgrown boy scout spouting apple pie platitudes for the public. We would like to write this guy off, Mr. Clean Marine as the other Mercury Men call him. The trouble is that as the film unfolds, you get the picture that this isn’t all just an act for the camera. This really is the way John Glenn is on camera and off. I don’t know much about the real John Glenn, but I do know that several reviewers thought that Ed Harris’ performance in this role was very accurate and true to life.
There is a touching scene of a private moment between Annie and John Glenn. It is then that you come to realize that Annie is not a stuck up snob as the astronaut wives first thought. Nor is she some kind of a beauty queen as you have been led to believe by Glenn’s initial comments about her. Annie appears to be a very ordinary woman with a marked handicap in her stuttering. John is very patient with her and supportive. Glenn laughingly asks his wife is she perceives him as as “Dudley Do-Right” like everyone else. It is this scene that makes it believable that he truly is 100% behind his wife. When John Glenn makes the comment for the cameras about Mercury Rockets, the American flag, apple pie and his wife being 100% behind him, you want to say, “Yeah, right. And what other choice does she have this being the early 1960s and you being an up-and-coming presidential hopeful?” You might be tempted to remain somewhat sceptical about John Glenn’s authenticity.
Then, in the climactic scene where Glenn gets on the phone with Vice President Johnson’s man, you see love in action. Glenn does not succumb to pressure from the White House or anywhere else. He defends his wife. John Glenn is going to back up his wife 100% because that is the kind of relationship that they have in private and in public. Johnson is left to have a hissy fit in the back of his limousine all because of a mere housewife who won’t co-operate in front of the cameras for the good of the nation.
In real life, Annie Glenn apparently overcame a severe stuttering problem. John Glenn, although he did not make it as President of the United States, did make it into space once again in later life. It seems like both of them overcame tremendous odds in different spheres and remained mutually supportive of each other in the long haul in spite of the challenges. Maybe it had something to do with that seemingly silling vaunting about a wife who is 100% behind her husband and vice versa.
I don’t know. My husband hardly has a one in four chance of coming home from work one day in a body bag. I don’t live with that unique kind of stress. But I think that Annie Glenn’s philosophy had something to do with being able to survive alive and still have a marriage that worked.
Tune in next week, June 4th, on TVO's Saturday Night at the Movies for a take on some all-time messed up marrieds "Bonnie and Clyde" (1967) Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty at 8pm and "Gun Crazy" (1949) at 10:10pm EST.
Suggested Reading :
- So what was that hymn? (the Navy version) Beware the organ blast from your speakers.
- And about that corny “behind you 100%”marriage stuff?
- Say what about marriage?!
- IMDb trivia on “The Right Stuff”