Rather nicely done for the genre. Scott Bakula is flying a small Cessna from Pago Pago to Norfolk Island and finds himself lost over the wide Pacific due to instrument malfunction. No ships around -- not that anyone knows where he is -- and the only other traffic is an Air New Zealand Boeing passenger plane, piloted by Robert Loggia. Bakula calls an airport and declares an emergency. His plane is low on fuel and he plans on ditching in a few hours before the sun sets. Loggia, informed of the situation, decides to help Bakula. The rest of the film consists of Loggia and Bakula trying with increasing desperation to find each other in the darkening skies so that Loggia can guide Bakula to the nearest airport at Aukland. They get the job done, but not without a lot of intervening problems.
There's nothing particularly outstanding about the acting. All the principals are professionally competent. And there are some nice shots of a Boeing heavy in a sunlit sky. Bakula's little Cessna, a goofy-looking low-winged crop duster, looks like a joke unto itself.
The script is a little stereotyped. Bakula simply MUST have a pregnant wife back home who wants him to quit his freelance flying job. And, hearing of the impending disaster, she MUST be patched through to Loggia's airplane so that he can pass sentimental messages back and forth. The script is at its best when it sticks to technical matters and the directing is best when the actors speak in dry, crisp tones. Pilots don't scream at one another over the radio.
Whoever did the special effects for the thunderstorm that the planes have to fly through should be fired. Bakula shouts: "I'm flying into a thunderhead!" Immediate -- and I mean like right away -- the camera goes ape, shaking all over the place as if being kicked from all directions, the lightning flashes from the strobe lights are constant and blindingly bright, and the electronic thunder is constantly crashing around our ears. Loggia's huge passenger plane goes through almost as much turmoil as Bakula's little Cessna.
That's wretched excess. A more imaginative approach to the thunderstorm experience would be built up gradually, with intimations of mortality, a few dim booms first, and some diffuse pink flashes in the distance before the impact, to give the audience a chance to worry properly. And the little Cessna shouldn't be whacked around. It should fall and rise in excessive swoops. The apparent danger is vitiated by the fact that everything lets go at once. There's no tension or anxiety. As it is, when Bakula yells, "I'm LOSING IT!", there's no evidence that his airplane is being battered any more than it was when he was in control.
The film holds a viewer's interest, though. It's no fun to be lost over the ocean in a small plane and have to ditch. Look at Amelia Earhart. It happened to me, too, and it was scary as hell, though it was a bright sunny afternoon off Montauk Point and the seas were light. Ditching in the dark must be a nightmare. There are tense scenes aboard Loggia's plane too. Just how much is he willing to risk to save a single life? Considering that he has not only his own crew but 88 passengers aboard, many of them children. He risks quite a lot actually, small things first, then more important things, like dumping fuel to create a contrail.
An interesting job for a TV movie.
There's nothing particularly outstanding about the acting. All the principals are professionally competent. And there are some nice shots of a Boeing heavy in a sunlit sky. Bakula's little Cessna, a goofy-looking low-winged crop duster, looks like a joke unto itself.
The script is a little stereotyped. Bakula simply MUST have a pregnant wife back home who wants him to quit his freelance flying job. And, hearing of the impending disaster, she MUST be patched through to Loggia's airplane so that he can pass sentimental messages back and forth. The script is at its best when it sticks to technical matters and the directing is best when the actors speak in dry, crisp tones. Pilots don't scream at one another over the radio.
Whoever did the special effects for the thunderstorm that the planes have to fly through should be fired. Bakula shouts: "I'm flying into a thunderhead!" Immediate -- and I mean like right away -- the camera goes ape, shaking all over the place as if being kicked from all directions, the lightning flashes from the strobe lights are constant and blindingly bright, and the electronic thunder is constantly crashing around our ears. Loggia's huge passenger plane goes through almost as much turmoil as Bakula's little Cessna.
That's wretched excess. A more imaginative approach to the thunderstorm experience would be built up gradually, with intimations of mortality, a few dim booms first, and some diffuse pink flashes in the distance before the impact, to give the audience a chance to worry properly. And the little Cessna shouldn't be whacked around. It should fall and rise in excessive swoops. The apparent danger is vitiated by the fact that everything lets go at once. There's no tension or anxiety. As it is, when Bakula yells, "I'm LOSING IT!", there's no evidence that his airplane is being battered any more than it was when he was in control.
The film holds a viewer's interest, though. It's no fun to be lost over the ocean in a small plane and have to ditch. Look at Amelia Earhart. It happened to me, too, and it was scary as hell, though it was a bright sunny afternoon off Montauk Point and the seas were light. Ditching in the dark must be a nightmare. There are tense scenes aboard Loggia's plane too. Just how much is he willing to risk to save a single life? Considering that he has not only his own crew but 88 passengers aboard, many of them children. He risks quite a lot actually, small things first, then more important things, like dumping fuel to create a contrail.
An interesting job for a TV movie.