Posted Sep 28, 09 02:29 PM
*Main* Cabin Fever
OK, I just had the complimentary double package of Delta's dry roasteds (eh) and the free glass of water (which was mostly ice). Seven bucks for a "snack box" is too much. Somewhere southwest of Denver, the turbulence kicks in. My line of vision is doing a bobbly-head motion with the laptop.
Two-and-a-half hours to Minneapolis. Suddenly, along comes this bloated blowhard with coke bottle glasses on a safety cord. He camps out in the aisle, yakking about Cadillac dealerships.
Oy.
Thankfully, whenever I nab a comfort-free seat on a 727 and stare at the clouds below, images of flight horror/suspense immediately swirl up to 18,000 feet. Where's my Internet research connection when I need it? It's all that "turn off your electronic devices because they may interfere with aircraft communication" power-pulling.
As my brother Charlie is a pilot, I'm never afraid to fly, not even when he took me up in his bi-plane, cut off the engine at an 85-degree angle and performed hammerhead drops and barrel rolls. When you've been through that, it's difficult to take aviation for granted: Millions of people propelled through the freezing air in enclosed metal tubes. In a similar vein, Mom's a nurse. That means fear never comes to mind when a needle gets jammed into my chest. Just let me see the blood.
So return your tray tables to an upright position. Put the in-flight nightmares on manual. It's time for something special in the air...
John Lithgow in Twilight Zone: The Movie. There's never been a better performance of The Passenger Who Reallllly Hates to Fly. Lithgow may have multiple Emmys and double Oscar nominations on his mantle, but this is his finest (half) hour. Tranquilized to hell, with a wardrobe rotting in nervous sweat, Lithgow's everyman claustrophobe melts down on a red eye turbulently careening through the stratosphere. Wouldn't you know he's the only passenger who can see that creature-ish "something" on the wing of the plane, shredding the engines into coleslaw? George Miller masterfully directs this TV episode remake, the most ingeniously realized of the anthology quartet (whose helmers - Joe Dante, John Landis, and Steven Spielberg - hardly qualify as "coach").
Stephen King's The Night Flier. It was lost amid an early year release schedule – and about the time the author's name started appearing above the title of his lesser adaptations (sorry, Langoliers, this is your only plug). But it's an adrenalin-kick to discover a chilly shocker like this, overlooked from the radar. Now, uh...don't laugh. The plot: A vampire pilot turns vulnerable, regional airports into his hunting ground. The result: A skilled exercise in menace. Bloody messages left on glass have rarely struck such unnerving chords. And - ohhh - look out for that washroom scene.
Final Destination. Of course. The series' greatest turn came at the beginning. Following a prophetic vision of his plane exploding, high schooler Devon Sawa gets himself and his classmates booted from a Paris-bound flight. Then – in full view from the terminal – the plane explodes. The shockwave shatters every window in sight… and ushers in (so far) three film sequels and one highly effective graphic novel spin-off - Final Destination: Spring Break. I hear there's a nasty doozy involving a jetway. And another with a helicopter and a sudden downdraft...
Jaws 2. Since we're on the subject of helicopter terror. I know I've plugged it before, but shark vs. aircraft is as brilliant as that tagline, "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water..."
Airport '77. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's a disaster pic, but I left this column a tish open for thrills. The reprogrammed crash-land in Die Hard 2. The nightmare premise of Jodie Foster's losing a daughter onboard in Flightplan. The horrifically realized set-up of Alive: Seated passengers getting sucked out - row by row - into a mid-air vacuum. This was easily the best of the '70s franchise - and enough to inspire a short-lived Universal Studios tour attraction ("Can you survive the crash of Airport '77?"). Every time we come in for the approach and the fuselage rattles, I have fond daydreams of clipping an oil rig, submerging under the Bermuda Triangle, and getting to spend lots of quality time with Lee Grant.
There goes the landing gear. Better buckle up.
Posted by Mike Kalvoda at 02:29 PM