With its melancholy regret and bittersweet nostalgia, this is far superior to the 1986 blockbuster. But as the sun goes down on American imperialism here, the last-gasp celebration of it unsettles.
Cold War propaganda that is weirdly apolitical. Sunny, breezy homoeroticism that is surely unintentional. What a hoot this is! Mostly not in a good way, but its impact on pop culture cannot be denied.
Does an untimely death change our perspective on the work? (Should it?) Should how a filmmaker’s work was received during his or her life change how we honor them after they die?
Anyone who doubts that silent films can be just as engrossing as those newfangled talkies needs to see Wings, an early buddies-go-to-war story that still echoes in today’s movies.