For those of you who’ve never discovered its charms, Rod Serling’s original The Twilight Zone (1959-1964) remains a show worthy of our time and attention.
Not only did the anthology program produce some of the best stories in all of television history but it also practically invented the concept of the ‘twist ending.’ Pushing the boundaries of what was possible, Serling and its cast of screenwriters – along with the original source stories – put various characters in situations that forced them to look at who they were, what they were doing with their lives, and grasp whatever lessons the universe felt was missing from their respective repertoires. Depending on their circumstances, not everyone made it out alive; but – undoubtedly – audiences left each episode with some cautionary message which if nothing else had many thinking twice about how they went about their own business of living life to the fullest.
In fact, The Twilight Zone was so popular it eventually led to countless spin-offs or retreads, both on television and on motion picture screens. One of which came along even whilst Zone was making headway on the Boob Tube: 1961’s The Flight That Vanished enjoyed a limited U.S. theatrical release, one large enough for the flick to reportedly recoup its cost but small enough to allow for it to pretty much vanish into obscurity the way that so many older projects do. While I’ve read that its script – written by Ralph Hart, Judith Hart, and Orville H. Hampton – was inspired by a real-life event, I’ve never seen this confirmed in multiple sources so I’m hesitant to say further on that point. Directed by Reginald Le Borg – a genre veteran with such features as Calling Dr. Death (1943), Weird Woman (1943), Jungle Woman (1944), and The Mummy’s Ghost (1944) already under his belt – the film starred Craig Hill, Paula Raymond, Dayton Lummis, Gregory Morton, Harvey Stephens, and others.
How is it, you ask?
Well, the truth is that it sounds far more interesting than it is; and some of its failure to land (snicker snicker) is that it doesn’t quite follow Zone’s formula well enough to stick its landing (snicker snicker snicker). Sure, it flies … but it never really sails, if you know what I mean.
Not only did the anthology program produce some of the best stories in all of television history but it also practically invented the concept of the ‘twist ending.’ Pushing the boundaries of what was possible, Serling and its cast of screenwriters – along with the original source stories – put various characters in situations that forced them to look at who they were, what they were doing with their lives, and grasp whatever lessons the universe felt was missing from their respective repertoires. Depending on their circumstances, not everyone made it out alive; but – undoubtedly – audiences left each episode with some cautionary message which if nothing else had many thinking twice about how they went about their own business of living life to the fullest.
In fact, The Twilight Zone was so popular it eventually led to countless spin-offs or retreads, both on television and on motion picture screens. One of which came along even whilst Zone was making headway on the Boob Tube: 1961’s The Flight That Vanished enjoyed a limited U.S. theatrical release, one large enough for the flick to reportedly recoup its cost but small enough to allow for it to pretty much vanish into obscurity the way that so many older projects do. While I’ve read that its script – written by Ralph Hart, Judith Hart, and Orville H. Hampton – was inspired by a real-life event, I’ve never seen this confirmed in multiple sources so I’m hesitant to say further on that point. Directed by Reginald Le Borg – a genre veteran with such features as Calling Dr. Death (1943), Weird Woman (1943), Jungle Woman (1944), and The Mummy’s Ghost (1944) already under his belt – the film starred Craig Hill, Paula Raymond, Dayton Lummis, Gregory Morton, Harvey Stephens, and others.
How is it, you ask?
Well, the truth is that it sounds far more interesting than it is; and some of its failure to land (snicker snicker) is that it doesn’t quite follow Zone’s formula well enough to stick its landing (snicker snicker snicker). Sure, it flies … but it never really sails, if you know what I mean.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A cross-country airliner, whose passengers include a nuclear physicist, a rocket expert, and a mathematical genius, is drawn beyond radar range by an unknown, unbreakable force.”
Opinions vary widely, but I’ve often argued that the very best installment of The Twilight Zone are the ones wherein the leads suffer some comeuppance in the last reel.
Often times, the point of these shared stories is the fact that these people – in spite of being the best and/or brightest at whatever they were doing – should’ve known better but did act with the greatest intentions whatsoever. For any number of reasons, they choose to willfully and deliberately ignore their conscience (if they have one) or the needs of the many in order to personally profit in some noticeable way. In the process, they display the worst of ourselves – or humanity, at large – and the retribution that God, society, karma, or the universe winds up being earned. We may not hate them for what they did, but we certainly don’t feel a significant measure of pity, either.
1961’s The Flight That Disappeared soars into similar territory as the Zone, but the project never quite goes far enough to dish out any important lesson with the curious twist of its procedure. Though a few of the characters kinda/sorta learn a lesson, this resolution isn’t the kind of central answer that paves the way for us – the viewing audience – to revel in its brilliance. Rather, it’s a very limited scale of caution at best that serves as the catalyst for one or two or three people to change their frame of mind well before it would ever be too late. Since they’ve come to terms with a fateful choice, we don’t have to … and – though interesting – there’s just not much substance to anything else in here.
Dr. Carl Morris (played by Dayton Lummis) – apparently a contemporary rock star of the scientific community – is taking a last-minute flight to Washington, D.C. where he’s expected to meet with member of the U.S. defense community regarding some impending development. (Mind you: it’s all a bit vague, and you’re free to make of that what you will.) On board the plane, he misses the chance to sit with his personal secretary Marcia Paxton (Paula Raymond) owed to a seat-shuffling done by the airlines. Instead, Marcia finds herself paired up with another rocket scientist – propulsion expert Tom Endicott (Craig Hill) – where the typical melodramatic sparks fly when two unwed heterosexuals meet in black-and-white cinema.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A cross-country airliner, whose passengers include a nuclear physicist, a rocket expert, and a mathematical genius, is drawn beyond radar range by an unknown, unbreakable force.”
Opinions vary widely, but I’ve often argued that the very best installment of The Twilight Zone are the ones wherein the leads suffer some comeuppance in the last reel.
Often times, the point of these shared stories is the fact that these people – in spite of being the best and/or brightest at whatever they were doing – should’ve known better but did act with the greatest intentions whatsoever. For any number of reasons, they choose to willfully and deliberately ignore their conscience (if they have one) or the needs of the many in order to personally profit in some noticeable way. In the process, they display the worst of ourselves – or humanity, at large – and the retribution that God, society, karma, or the universe winds up being earned. We may not hate them for what they did, but we certainly don’t feel a significant measure of pity, either.
1961’s The Flight That Disappeared soars into similar territory as the Zone, but the project never quite goes far enough to dish out any important lesson with the curious twist of its procedure. Though a few of the characters kinda/sorta learn a lesson, this resolution isn’t the kind of central answer that paves the way for us – the viewing audience – to revel in its brilliance. Rather, it’s a very limited scale of caution at best that serves as the catalyst for one or two or three people to change their frame of mind well before it would ever be too late. Since they’ve come to terms with a fateful choice, we don’t have to … and – though interesting – there’s just not much substance to anything else in here.
Dr. Carl Morris (played by Dayton Lummis) – apparently a contemporary rock star of the scientific community – is taking a last-minute flight to Washington, D.C. where he’s expected to meet with member of the U.S. defense community regarding some impending development. (Mind you: it’s all a bit vague, and you’re free to make of that what you will.) On board the plane, he misses the chance to sit with his personal secretary Marcia Paxton (Paula Raymond) owed to a seat-shuffling done by the airlines. Instead, Marcia finds herself paired up with another rocket scientist – propulsion expert Tom Endicott (Craig Hill) – where the typical melodramatic sparks fly when two unwed heterosexuals meet in black-and-white cinema.
In any event, sometime during the flight Dr. Morris finds himself finds himself cornered by mildly wacky passenger Walter Cooper (Harvey Stephens) who’s convinced that the only way our way of life can survive into the future is for this all-new Beta Bomb to get developed and dropped on our enemies. Though Morris listens to the man and offers up some modest pushback, it’s pretty clear that Cooper has made up his mind about the lengths to which civilization must go in this modern Atomic Age; and the scientist pretty much leaves their meeting unaffected. After all, he’s a man of science; and he leaves the questions of morality to the government.
Not long thereafter, Trans-Coast Airways Flight 60 begins to climb higher and higher, seemingly out of control of the pilot and flight crew. Eventually, the cabin begins to lose air, forcing some passengers to fall asleep. Contact is lost with traffic control; and it would seem that Flight 60 has been lost.
This is where the film definitely crosses into The Twilight Zone: whilst everyone else has been reduced into suspended animation, Morris, Paxton, and Endicott awaken to find that the plane and its passengers have slipped into some alternate dimension. Stepping from aircraft’s open door and onto the fog-shrouded surface, they find themselves in some place between worlds, one where ‘The Sage’ (Addison Richards) has pulled the “unborn children of tomorrow” to serve as the jury over this trio. As Fate would have it, The Sage explains that they did arrive in D.C., attend a meeting, and develop a bomb which destroyed our world; and they’re now being held on trial for such a devastating crime against humanity.
Now, nothing much else happens, to be perfectly honest; and Flight is a very slim feature production. It clocks in at a lean and mean 70 minutes (with credits!), so there frankly isn’t all that much remaining for a trial to take place whatsoever. Sure, there’s a bit of chitchat, but the central reveal here is little more than the fact that these three have pretty much killed life as we know it; and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’re going to be put back into the timeline with full knowledge of what they did in order to alter the original outcome. That’s pretty much what happens – with Morris landing in D.C. and tearing up his formula and discarding his whole handbook – and mankind is presumably saved in the process. (We don’t see it, but the intimation is there.)
Sadly, there’s just not all that much to react to critically in trying to evaluate Flight as a feature film. It contains no big performance – no one truly distinguishes himself or herself in any way worth highlighting – and viewers pretty much have to accept the mystical intervention of a future people in order for the whole construct to even be possible. For reasons never explained, Endicott is the only one who effectively remembers their visit to this other dimension once he awakens in 1961; and there’s also no plausible explanation for where and/or how the plane vanished from our existence for a full twenty-four hours. These curiosities are usually handled in stronger scripts; and such vacancy gives this Flight a bit of creative turbulence that could’ve and should’ve been avoided.
Not long thereafter, Trans-Coast Airways Flight 60 begins to climb higher and higher, seemingly out of control of the pilot and flight crew. Eventually, the cabin begins to lose air, forcing some passengers to fall asleep. Contact is lost with traffic control; and it would seem that Flight 60 has been lost.
This is where the film definitely crosses into The Twilight Zone: whilst everyone else has been reduced into suspended animation, Morris, Paxton, and Endicott awaken to find that the plane and its passengers have slipped into some alternate dimension. Stepping from aircraft’s open door and onto the fog-shrouded surface, they find themselves in some place between worlds, one where ‘The Sage’ (Addison Richards) has pulled the “unborn children of tomorrow” to serve as the jury over this trio. As Fate would have it, The Sage explains that they did arrive in D.C., attend a meeting, and develop a bomb which destroyed our world; and they’re now being held on trial for such a devastating crime against humanity.
Now, nothing much else happens, to be perfectly honest; and Flight is a very slim feature production. It clocks in at a lean and mean 70 minutes (with credits!), so there frankly isn’t all that much remaining for a trial to take place whatsoever. Sure, there’s a bit of chitchat, but the central reveal here is little more than the fact that these three have pretty much killed life as we know it; and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’re going to be put back into the timeline with full knowledge of what they did in order to alter the original outcome. That’s pretty much what happens – with Morris landing in D.C. and tearing up his formula and discarding his whole handbook – and mankind is presumably saved in the process. (We don’t see it, but the intimation is there.)
Sadly, there’s just not all that much to react to critically in trying to evaluate Flight as a feature film. It contains no big performance – no one truly distinguishes himself or herself in any way worth highlighting – and viewers pretty much have to accept the mystical intervention of a future people in order for the whole construct to even be possible. For reasons never explained, Endicott is the only one who effectively remembers their visit to this other dimension once he awakens in 1961; and there’s also no plausible explanation for where and/or how the plane vanished from our existence for a full twenty-four hours. These curiosities are usually handled in stronger scripts; and such vacancy gives this Flight a bit of creative turbulence that could’ve and should’ve been avoided.
The Flight That Disappeared (1961) was produced by Harvard Film. A quick Google.com search indicates that the film is presently available for streaming rental via a variety of internet platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds to be quite good from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features. Since I viewed this one entirely via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a one-off kinda/sorta bloated semi-installment derivative of The Twilight Zone, I suppose most folks will find The Flight That Disappeared (1961) benign enough to get modest enjoyment out of it. Still, it had no real emotional core – the main plot and a few side ones wrap up with little to no fanfare – and it lacks the teeth of compelling drama in order to be truly memorable. While the dip into an alternate reality works very well, we don’t spend much time there – nor is there the kind of treacherous debate that makes for riveting exchanges – for it to rise above being anything greater than neat-o-keen. In the end, Flight feels about as fluffy as the clouds … and that’s not meant to be kind.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Flight That Disappeared (1961) as I viewed the film on a platform to which I subscribe.
-- EZ
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a one-off kinda/sorta bloated semi-installment derivative of The Twilight Zone, I suppose most folks will find The Flight That Disappeared (1961) benign enough to get modest enjoyment out of it. Still, it had no real emotional core – the main plot and a few side ones wrap up with little to no fanfare – and it lacks the teeth of compelling drama in order to be truly memorable. While the dip into an alternate reality works very well, we don’t spend much time there – nor is there the kind of treacherous debate that makes for riveting exchanges – for it to rise above being anything greater than neat-o-keen. In the end, Flight feels about as fluffy as the clouds … and that’s not meant to be kind.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Flight That Disappeared (1961) as I viewed the film on a platform to which I subscribe.
-- EZ
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