This is a great old movie, back in a time when men were men and women were all former showgirls or something. Men flying airplanes, men flying airplanes through obscured mountain passes during violent rainstorms, men dropping nitroglycerin on condors (but just wait, they will get their revenge), men dying, their friends dealing with death the way men should -- with denial and booze. Set in one of those remote, out-of-the-way jungle locales where miraculously everyone crosses paths, kind of like Casablanca but with a lot more rain. The pilot who bailed out and left his mechanic behind to die meets up with the brother of said mechanic, and the brother ain't too happy about it. But through an inevitable turn of events they end up together in a burning plane and have to bail, but one of them can't. What would you do? The pilot's wife is a real looker, Rita something, but our hero is shocked to realize she is the old flame who crushed his heart. Is that really you Judy, Judy, Judy? (yes, this is the movie where Cary Grant never actually says this). There are so many situations that make no sense. The girl from Kansas or Maine or golly geewillikers I'm not sure where spends about 10 minutes getting the cold shoulder from our hero, and then goes on to confide her worries about whether it is right to tie him down. Well, he is Cary Grant, so I guess it is these leaps of sudden commitment aren't too fanciful. When the "Kid" fails his eye test, Cary tells him he is through flying. That's right, there is not a single optician in all of South America.
In short, I loved this movie. Made me want to become a pilot and learn how to smoke. It will have the same effect on you too.
