Charles Lindbergh’s biography is so fascinating that his 1927 New York-to-Paris flight is arguably not even the craziest event. That event is the entire purview of “The Spirit of St. Louis” (1957), Billy Wilder’s adaptation of Lindbergh’s own account (as he was the only one in the radio-free, non-radar-tracked plane) from the book by the same name.
Some viewers might’ve wished for juicier stuff like the kidnapping and murder of Lindbergh’s baby (which inspired part of Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express”) or his alleged Nazi sympathies. But “Spirit” doesn’t go beyond 1927.
Like a lot of biopics, it flashes back at times; Wilder and his two co-writers insert key moments in “Slim” Lindbergh’s piloting life amid the flight. James Stewart plays Charles at every age, one of those biopic quirks we just have to roll with. Stewart can still play youthful energy well, so it’s not a big issue.
“The Spirit of St. Louis” (1957)
Director: Billy Wilder
Writers: Billy Wilder, Wendell Mayes (screenplay); Charles Lederer (adaptation); Charles A. Lindbergh (book)
Stars: James Stewart, Arthur Space, Murray Hamilton
Lindbergh’s accomplishment vastly outstrips his straightforward personality if the film is any indication (and I assume it is), so we have a situation similar to the Roger Maris biopic “61*.” But that chronicles how Maris was persecuted for being down-to-earth and verbally reserved, and it’s filled with colorful side characters; Mickey Mantle is a co-lead.
Flying the ocean blue
Although some flashback scenes display comedic lightness toward Slim’s reckless early piloting, “Spirit” struggles to find that spark of energy, an unintended parallel for how Lindbergh struggles to stay awake for the 33-hour flight. The standout supporting character is Donald Hall (Arthur Space), the San Diego-based chief engineer of the custom-designed titular plane who grills fish for lunch with a welding torch. He and Charles become friends in addition to coworkers.
One scene features Charles showing the cockpit to who the credits call Mirror Girl (Patricia Smith). The onlooker at the New York airfield provides the compact mirror that Charles sticks with chewing gum to the console so he can see the periscope image. I thought maybe she was meant to represent future wife Anne, but that’s not the intent; unusual for a biopic, there’s no love interest.
In Lindbergh’s book “WE,” which came out in the wake of the flight, the title represents teamwork. The film captures this nicely; it doesn’t portray Charles as anything special aside from his desire to accomplish this feat. Even there, he is practical, always deferring to his investor team and making no design demands.
Toward the goal of making the plane as light as possible, he sacrifices all creature comforts, hauling only the clothes on his back, food and drink, and basic tools. He doesn’t even want a periscope (the only way to allow him a forward view, due to the positioning of the engine), but he agrees to it since it doesn’t add much to the weight. Otherwise, he was fine looking out the side windows.
Additionally, the problems on the flight are caused by the pilot as much as they are resolved by him. Sleep deprivation is not the easiest sell among dramatic conceits, but since “Spirit” aims to be accurate, that’s Lindbergh’s central challenge. If Charles falls asleep at the stick, he’ll likely die.
One giant flight for mankind
“Spirit” is a sometimes jittery exercise. It portrays a life-or-death situation that’s simultaneously so mundane that Lindbergh talks to a fruit fly. But it’s always technically adept; the rear-projection flying shots hold up fine.
As a history lesson, it’s quite fascinating. I wouldn’t have guessed what a large portion of the flight is over land. He’s flying directly from New York to Paris, and that means much of the start and end of the journey is over land; if you’re like me, you’ll have to look at a map to confirm that it checks out. It’s also eye-opening that he does not gain much altitude; if he was going slower, he could almost drop a fishing line.
Although this isn’t emphasized in the film, Lindbergh’s wasn’t the first transatlantic flight. That was done in 1919, from Newfoundland to Ireland. This one is between two major cities, thus showing the possibilities for commercial aviation across the ocean.
Emphasizing parallels to the Space Race, which the filmmakers didn’t know about yet, we hear via radio and newspapers about other pilots attempting the New York-to-Paris flight and failing (which means dying). It’s harrowing to reflect on the fine line between being forgotten and being remembered forever.
As a film, “The Spirit of St. Louis” isn’t remembered as well as the event, despite coming from Wilder. That’s appropriate, since it’s workmanlike, rather than spectacular or controversial. But Lindbergh-by-way-of-Stewart is a fine companion and you’ll learn historical and engineering details.
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