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It's not the most he-manly endorsement imaginable, but Dive Bomber must be the prettiest aviation movie ever made. Errol Flynn, Fred MacMurray, and Ralph Bellamy top the cast, but the real star is Technicolor--in particular, a special Monopack developed to take the color process airborne without the cumbrous three-strip cameras used in the studios. Bert Glennon and Winton C. Hoch (once and future cameramen to John Ford) were Oscar-nominated for best color cinematography of 1941, but the flying footage was shot by Howard Hawks's aerial go-to guy Elmer Dyer (The Dawn Patrol, Only Angels Have Wings, Air Force) and Charles Marshall. For his part, director Michael Curtiz set up as many dialogue scenes as possible to include low-level flyovers by U.S. Navy Air Force squadrons. The onscreen results are often breathtaking (and beautifully served by the DVD mastering). The drama is something else again. Dive Bomber is a bridge between the carefree service comedy-dramas of the '30s and the combat-themed movies that would kick in following December 7, 1941. Warner Bros. knew war was coming (their 1940 Flynn swashbuckler The Sea Hawk had allegorically engaged Hitler!); the heroes here are the flight surgeons and test pilots racing to lick high-altitude sickness so that U.S. flyers would be able to get the drop on their Axis foes once "the main event" started. The best scenes are the lab tests, including an oxygen-deprivation experiment that makes striking use of Technicolor. But the script by aviation-ace-turned-screenwriter Frank "Spig" Wead alternates between two tiresome strategies: nonstop dissing of medicos Flynn and Bellamy by macho flyboys MacMurray and pal Regis Toomey, and low-comedy interludes deploring how exasperating women can be (Alexis Smith is a sacrificial victim in her stellar debut). In this last connection, John Ford's Wead biopic The Wings of Eagles would make an illuminating companion piece for Dive Bomber. --Richard T. Jameson
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