My overall impression
From http://tinyurl.com/28c266g: After a crash-landing April 13, 1933, in middle of the Sahara Desert, pioneer aviator Bill Lancaster (played by aviation great Sir Charles Kingford-Smith’s grand-nephew, Leof) rations his canteen into seven pints- one per day as he awaits rescue amidst the searing heat and freezing nights. He slowly drinks his way through them, sharing last thoughts from his pilot’s logbook-turned-diary, about love and loss, ego and adventure. Between desperate gulps we learn of his ex-wife Kiki, whom he left to adventure with the “love of his life” Chubbie Miller, all of the aviation records he attempted (and failed) to break, his dreams of rising above the anonymous thousands and achieving fame and fortune in the Golden Age of Aviation, and a suicide (or was it murder?) that distanced his love forever. A rather romantic look at an egotistic, achievement-obsessed philanderer, we can’t help but agree when Lancaster, perched in the shade beneath the wing of his fallen plane, admits he got his due dying of thirst. Based on a true story, Kingsford-Smith managers to play Lancaster with charm, if not grace, amidst Allan Walpole’s clever set design, a repetitively tinkling piano soundtrack, and brash lighting changes.
