THE SOUND BARRIER: Blu-ray (London/British Lion, 1952) Kino Lorber

Of the ‘little gem’ class in director, David Lean’s British period, The Sound Barrier (1952) is an oft affecting English ‘drawing room’ melodrama, gussied up with a few aerial sequences to suggest otherwise. Hitchcock abhorred this sort of ‘talking picture’ – basically, a series of word-driven vignettes where characters from disparate backgrounds and viewpoints momentarily clash in their sentiments and values, usually to find common ground in the end. The Sound Barrier may not represent the best of its vintage, but it does star the consummate British actor, Ralph Richardson as aeronautic industrialist, John Ridgefield - of the traditional ‘stiff upper lip’ sort, and, the marvelous, Ann Todd as his conflicted daughter, Susan.  Interesting to consider this picture as a ‘semi-documentary’ on the ruthless strides taken in British aviation to meet and exceed the natural elements barring man’s progress into the wild blue yonder. Especially, since what is on display here is mostly a lie. For although The Sound Barrier features some exemplary second unit aerial photography, most of its 2-hr. plus run time is spent on terra firma. Terrance Rattigan’s screenplay takes many artistic liberties here, and the results are the transformation of a technological marvel, achieved by the U.S., remade into a British show. While Lean proved an adept master at this sort of character-driven conversation puff piece (the melodrama on tap here is quite compelling), The Sound Barrier is owed its reputation for some hair-raising aerial stealth, otherwise achieved and photographed by uncredited stunt coordinator/director, Anthony Squire.

We follow Susan Ridgefield’s burgeoning infatuation with flyer, Tony Garthwaite (Nigel Patrick), whom she comes to admire first, then, falls madly in love. The couple elopes and returns to the Ridgefield estate to assume their roles in John’s industrial complex. Susan is against her father’s steely resolve to do the impossible, whatever the cost. Moreover, while she can certainly appreciate him as a self-made captain of industry, she also identifies and bitterly resents his shortcomings as a father. Sue has always been an afterthought in John’s heart, his clear-cut focus and paternal disappointment, a crippling influence on his son, Christopher (Denholm Elliott), the sensitive sort, incapable of living up to John’s high standards as a flyer. Knowing how much these test flights mean to his father, Chris agrees to engage in a dangerous experimental flight. Predictably, this ends in tragedy. The plane nosedives into the ground and Chris is instantly killed. In the meantime, Sue informs her father she and Tony have wed on the sly. Tony is the amiable sort, and John takes an immediate liking to him; moreover, interested in tapping his prowess as a test pilot. In Chris’ absence, with barely a moment spent to mourn, John adopts Tony as the son he might have preferred, much to Sue’s regret. For whole portions of the story, Sue will remain silent about her intuitive fears for Tony’s well-being, unwilling to jinx his missions he repeatedly regards as “a piece of cake” – a coined phrase Sue increasingly resists with grave anxiety.

Perhaps to quell her concerns, Tony offers to ferry one of John’s 2-seater de Havilland Vampire jets to Cairo, taking his wife along for the ride. Within hours, the couple pass over the entire continent of Europe, Tony pointing out the highlights, leaving Sue with an awesome sense of exhilaration. In Cairo, Tony and Sue are entertained by Philip Peel (John Justin) and his wife, Jess (Dinah Sheridan). Phil used to be a pilot. That is, before Jess encouraged him to take a ‘safe’ job, working for an oil company in Egypt. Nevertheless, Sue can recognize Phil’s itch to return to the skies as a test pilot.  Reluctantly, Jess agrees, and the two eventually relocate back to England where Phil rejoins the Ridgefield organization. Meanwhile, having lunched fashionably with the Peels in Cairo, Tony and Sue return home that same day as passengers aboard a de Havilland Comet. By evening, Sue has worked up the courage to confide her fears to her husband. What advantage is there in discovering and breaking the sound barrier if, on the other side, nothing of value is to be gained. Tony reminds Sue, history is strewn with the ambitions of men to do what first seemed impossible – the challenge itself, the very virtue in the exercise, as well as its own reward. Besides, John has already moved ahead with his latest jet fighter prototype - the Prometheus, a costly venture, to have put great financial strain on his company, especially if it fails to live up to expectations. Early test runs look very promising, causing John to optimistically escalate the timeline of the sound barrier test launch. In the meantime, Sue informs Tony she is going to have their baby. The couple’s elation is short-lived as Tony, on his third run suddenly loses altitude. The Prometheus plummets to earth, striking the ground with such colossal force, Tony and almost all of the plane are instantly incinerated. Philip collects Sue at the theater to inform her of this tragedy. And although she ventures to the crash site, Sue cannot bring herself to be comforted by the thought Tony died doing what he loved best. Indeed, even the usual counsel offered by her father’s chief engineer, the kindly and father-like, Will Sparks (Joseph Tomelty) cannot provide solace from her grief. Sue gives birth to Tony’s child – a boy, just as Tony had hoped. She names the child, John – after Tony’s request.

Shortly thereafter, Sue retreats into her own world, moving out of her father’s manor house and in with the Peels who presently occupy a quaint cottage Sue had once attempted to procure for she and Tony, but was denied access to by her father, who insisted they remain on his estate. Jess and Philip are empathetic to Sue’s pain and prove a great comfort. However, in Tony’s absence, John now turns to Philip to continue with the tests that proved fatal to Tony. John has another Prometheus built and the work continues. Sue is gravely concerned for Jess, who does not seem to mind her husband continues to place himself daily in harm’s way. At her child’s christening, Sue distances herself from John. Later, she confronts cruelly with her opinion of him as a heartless ‘man of vision’ – explaining, not all visions are good: some, are decidedly evil. If anything, John’s have proven quite selfish. For some time thereafter, Sue entertains the prospect of taking her baby and moving to London.  John is devastated. Having lost his wife long ago, then Chris, and finally, Tony, he cannot bear surrendering his daughter and grandson. John begs Sue to reconsider. As Philip prepares to take the new Prometheus out for its crucial test run, Sue arrives at John’s offices – pensively to remain at his side for the duration of the experimental flight. At first, Philip encounters the same terminal velocity as Tony, barely able to pull himself out of a deadly tailspin at 40,000 ft. But then, Philip recalls his skepticism over the time-honored procedural in case of such an emergency. Instead, he banks the plane, using a counter-intuitive action that enables him to maintain control of the aircraft and break the sound barrier. Happy for John and relieved for Phil, Sue retires to collect her thoughts. That evening, she and her young son arrive at the Ridgefield estate. John is pleased to see them, believing Sue has come to say goodbye before departing for London in the morning. Instead, Sue informs John she has come home to stay – having set aside her animosity and acquired a newfound respect for the work to which he is committed. A grateful John embraces his daughter and heir apparent.

The technical elements depicted in Terence Rattigan’s screenplay for The Sound Barrier very closely mirror the historic development of the jet engine by Frank Whittle and Power Jets Ltd. Indeed, David Lean was inspired to make the picture by his own fascination with aviation, culling research from various sources and even finagling his own test flight. This produced a 300-page dossier Lean later turned over to Rattigan to crib from for authenticity. Meanwhile, Rattigan loosely based the exploits of the fictional John Ridgefield on the true story of aircraft designer, Geoffrey de Havilland (on whom the de Havilland planes are named) and the tragic death of his son, Geoffrey Jr., a test pilot who died on September, 27, 1946 while attempting to break the speed of sound. In the rewriting of history, John Derry, another de Havilland test pilot, and Britain's first supersonic aviator, was reconstituted as Philip Peel in the movie. Despite Lean’s verve for truth – fiction trumped reality in The Sound Barrier as the very first aircraft to break this invisible plateau was a rocket-powered Bell X-1, flown by American, Chuck Yeager. Moreover, the maneuver depicted in the movie, Philip forcing the center stick forward to pull out of a dive, was a myth. In reality, this would have resulted in certain death. Viewed today, The Sound Barrier is more enjoyable as a rank bit of fluff and nonsense, superbly crafted by Rattigan, expertly played by all involved, and deftly directed by David Lean, who punctuates each of its philosophical debates on man’s innate desire to push and defy the boundaries of the natural order through his own stubbornly-resolved ingenuity. Ralph Richardson is superb as the robust – and seemingly heartless – industrialist; Ann Todd, equally as magnificent as his willful and slightly embittered offspring. The picture’s strengths far outweigh its betrayal of the fact. In the final analysis, The Sound Barrier is enjoyable hokum, sold with the utmost sincerity to make its story slick and memorable, however counterfeit.

The Sound Barrier arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s alliance with StudioCanal – the Euro-distributor committed to releasing a goodly sum of Brit-based classics to home video.  I just sincerely wish someone at StudioCanal could be convinced to spend a bit more time applying the necessary due diligence to create superior video masters. The Sound Barrier suffers from a lot of image instability. Matte process shots are the most inconsistently rendered, with hanging miniatures wobbling up and down to reveal themselves blatantly as such. But even scenes in which they do not appear are plagued by a lot of ‘movement’ within the frame; fine details slightly shimmering, and gate weave a real problem. The B&W elements have excellent contrast, showing off the virtues in Jack Hildyard’s cinematography. Close-ups reveal fine detail, while establishing shots occasionally appear soft to slightly out of focus. Dirty and age-related debris is present. There is even a prolonged aerial sequence in which a hair is clearly visible at the bottom left of the frame – an anomaly that otherwise could have been easily fixed with some minor digital wizardry, and, at minimal cost. I get it – film preservation is an effort that requires money. So, find it. Spend it. The history of cinema is dependent on the efforts exuded on surviving original elements today. After all, they will not be around forever. The DTS 1.0 mono audio is adequate for this presentation, especially showing off Malcolm Arnold’s bombastic main title. Incidentally, Arnold would go on to compose the scores for two other Lean classics, Hobson’s Choice (1954) and The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). Extras are limited to an informative audio commentary from historian/critic, Peter Tonguette, and a very truncated BFI interview with David Lean, barely lasting 10 min. and involving Lean for less than half that run time, mostly on superficial questions put forth by an obtuse interviewer and to which Lean seems rather ill at ease to answer. Bottom line: The Sound Barrier is a picture to satisfy most, and is well-suited for Lean completionists.  A very solid, if hardly exemplary effort. The Blu-ray is imperfect. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

1