Richard Dreyfuss plays one of a unit of aerial firefighters, dropping fire retardant to extinguish forest fires. He and Holly Hunter, a dispatcher, are deeply in love. Following another of Dreyfuss's pointlessly dicey flying stunts, the pilots, mechanics and firemen are lounge at the saloon. Dreyfuss catches Hunter unawares with a white dress for her birthday, even if it's not the right day. She puts on the dress anyway and all the guys rush to wash their hands so they get a turn dancing with her to a cover of Smoke Gets In Your Eyes that is no comparison to the old version sung by the wonderful Irene Dunne, the co-star of the original film on which this movie is based.
While on a bombing run, Dreyfuss's engine catches fire and doesn't make it. The next thing he knows, he is in a scenic forest with an angel played by Audrey Hepburn in her final screen role, who explains in her signature gentle manner that he is going to be a muse to others. That, which to a degree seems promising, prepares us for the second half of the movie, in which poor Dreyfuss has to return to earth and be an imperceptible muse for the dull and boring youngster who has taken his place. And he has to watch, powerlessly, as the kid and Hunter fall in love. Dreyfuss is takes this much too lightly for us to feel the true extent of the tragedy that exists in this material.
One of the weaknesses of lesser Spielberg effort is that it is one thing to sacrifice your life for a buddy in combat and quite another to run unnecessary risks while fighting forest fires, which are proved to actually be natural anyway. Another hindrance seems to stem from Spielberg's love of mighty special effects. The airplanes in this film appear to crash and slam their way through acres of scorching woods. Wouldn't a impact with only one of these trees cause a plane to crash? Because the seemingly heroic firefighters cut through the wood like it's nothing. The effects are so stunning that they're implausible.
The single upholding grace of the movie is Holly Hunter, conveying real and gushingly emotional pressure and stubborn impulsiveness. She has a straightforward style that is so much stronger than the cornball audacity and unflustered cool of Dreyfuss and Goodman. The scenes in which Dreyfuss is an angel watching while Hunter and Brad Johnson fall in love are the most out of depth in the film. Dreyfuss throws out jokey lines when perhaps a wounded gaze or a quiet turning of his back would have been more real and affecting, but we see no indignance and that is what is needed.
The film's most peculiar attribute, considering the fact that it was made by the director of The Color Purple and Empire of the Sun in the same decade, is a deficit of stress. Albeit pilots are flying into engulfing flames and we are in suspense hoping they came out on the other side, they have a lack of concern, a casual manner, that undercuts the emotion promised by Hunter's intensely persuasive depiction of raw love for Dreyfuss. The air of the film is a 1940s impression, which is surely what Spielberg was wanting, but I'm not certain it succeeds as expected. In an attempt to create a dated feel for the dialogue, very much of it sounds scripted instead of spoken. The result is a remake with less than effective anachronisms, thus no reason to remake it save for the fact that the director loves it so much.
While on a bombing run, Dreyfuss's engine catches fire and doesn't make it. The next thing he knows, he is in a scenic forest with an angel played by Audrey Hepburn in her final screen role, who explains in her signature gentle manner that he is going to be a muse to others. That, which to a degree seems promising, prepares us for the second half of the movie, in which poor Dreyfuss has to return to earth and be an imperceptible muse for the dull and boring youngster who has taken his place. And he has to watch, powerlessly, as the kid and Hunter fall in love. Dreyfuss is takes this much too lightly for us to feel the true extent of the tragedy that exists in this material.
One of the weaknesses of lesser Spielberg effort is that it is one thing to sacrifice your life for a buddy in combat and quite another to run unnecessary risks while fighting forest fires, which are proved to actually be natural anyway. Another hindrance seems to stem from Spielberg's love of mighty special effects. The airplanes in this film appear to crash and slam their way through acres of scorching woods. Wouldn't a impact with only one of these trees cause a plane to crash? Because the seemingly heroic firefighters cut through the wood like it's nothing. The effects are so stunning that they're implausible.
The single upholding grace of the movie is Holly Hunter, conveying real and gushingly emotional pressure and stubborn impulsiveness. She has a straightforward style that is so much stronger than the cornball audacity and unflustered cool of Dreyfuss and Goodman. The scenes in which Dreyfuss is an angel watching while Hunter and Brad Johnson fall in love are the most out of depth in the film. Dreyfuss throws out jokey lines when perhaps a wounded gaze or a quiet turning of his back would have been more real and affecting, but we see no indignance and that is what is needed.
The film's most peculiar attribute, considering the fact that it was made by the director of The Color Purple and Empire of the Sun in the same decade, is a deficit of stress. Albeit pilots are flying into engulfing flames and we are in suspense hoping they came out on the other side, they have a lack of concern, a casual manner, that undercuts the emotion promised by Hunter's intensely persuasive depiction of raw love for Dreyfuss. The air of the film is a 1940s impression, which is surely what Spielberg was wanting, but I'm not certain it succeeds as expected. In an attempt to create a dated feel for the dialogue, very much of it sounds scripted instead of spoken. The result is a remake with less than effective anachronisms, thus no reason to remake it save for the fact that the director loves it so much.