Heavenly staples: a review of the first episodes of the show "Masters of the Air"
Mercantile militaristic melancholy from Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg.
1943-1945. The apogee of World War II. American pilots of the 100th Bombardment Group are doing their best to stop Nazi Germany. Along the way, the young fighters are trying to survive with what remains of humanity and psyche.
In 2001, Brothers in Arms debuted on HBO, an epic, multi-layered saga about the U.S. contribution to the fight against the Nazis. The creators and executive producers were Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg, who had worked on "Saving Private Ryan," the major war drama of the late 20th century. "Brothers" was followed up with "The Pacific" (2010), where the action took place in Asia. The third (and probably final) companion in this daring triptych is "Lords of the Air," a new Apple TV+ project that is moralizing, chaotic, and at least 20 years too late for conclusions.
The series was based on Donald Miller's book Lords of the Air: The American Bombers Who Waged Air War Against Nazi Germany, and the memoirs of combat veteran Harry Crosby (played by Anthony Boyle), a narrator and aviation navigator. Leading the young, at times charismatic cast of the series are newly minted Oscar nominees Austin Butler ("Elvis") and Barry Keoghan ("Banshee Inisherina"). In "Overlords," scenes in the air alternate with life on the ground, jokes and traumas, constantly teetering on the edge of life and death. Along with patriotism and glory, regalia and eternal honor, the heroes do not let go of sticky fear. The Imposter Syndrome (in this case, an undeservedly surviving soldier) strikes with great force.
It took a 250-300 million dollar budget to create an impressive spectacle about the so-called "Bloody Hundred". The first two episodes are already available to audiences, full of impressive and slightly dated pyrotechnic scenes. However, no fireworks show with meticulously recreated U.S. airborne craft and ruthlessly attacking Luftwaffe can justify sagging, lifeless material with cast-iron dialog. In an era of diverse real-life military conflicts, the presence of "Overlords" serves as a soporific, mechanistic history lesson, an insistent, timeless eyesore. Here, only the spectacle is captivating, and there is little time for the psychology of the characters.
The directing team is led by Cary Fukunaga ("True Detective," "No Time to Die"), a technically impeccable director, but he can't handle human relationships, so they're left out or cited as blatant clichés. From conversations over a beer to the faces hidden behind the masks, the project gradually enters the path of recognizable propaganda didacticism, against which it is useless to rebel - they will be accused of disrespect for real heroism.
Butler continues to waste time (his own and others') on narcissism. The actor was one step away from the coveted "Oscar" statuette and decided to spite everyone to keep the voice of Elvis Presley (in a recent interview he claimed that he hired a coach to eliminate the accent - did not help). Keoghan, who shocked everyone in "Saltburn", here is nothing to surprise, the only discovery may be the British Callum Turner ("Emma"), who tried to most accurately convey the carelessness of youth and everyday immersion in the hell of war.
Hanks and Spielberg are back as producers, but their influence is subtle. "Masters" takes too long to ramp up, its supply of emotional resources too modest. To suspect something amiss at the outset and then not return is the surest operating manual.
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