"The Dawn Patrol" came out at a strange time: a few years later and it would have been a product of Warner Bros' propaganda department, matching a vicious enemy against selfless heroes. But in 1938 war was still a long way from Hollywood, so instead we get one of the last great anti-war films of the Golden Age.
The cast, as usual, is superlative. Errol Flynn and David Niven are friends and drinking buddies (in real life as well as on screen) in the Royal Flying Corps, straining against the strict discipline of their commanding officer, Basil Rathbone. Rathbone gets a different sort of role: rather than the sneering villain, he portrays a sympathetic character torn apart by his duty to his superiors and his responsibility to the men he commands. In fact, the same dramatic arc afflicts Flynn and Niven in time, and the three great actors turn in some of the best performances of their careers.
The flying scenes of "Dawn Patrol" lack the scale of "Hell's Angels" or "Wings", and a lot of scenes were lifted directly from a 1930 film of the same name, directed by Howard Hawks. The California scenery distracts a little from the verisimilitude, but the squadrons of vintage Nieuport 28's and other aircraft should make up for any shortcomings in the locations. The meat of the story takes place on the ground -- unlike in "Hell's Angels" -- so the action scenes in the air serve more as punctuation marks.
Like previous First World War movies, "Dawn Patrol" portrays the cynicism and fatalism of the fighter pilots. They drink a toast to "the next man that dies", sing boisterous songs to bury their grief, and even welcome an enemy captive into their mess -- who cares whose side he's on, the war's over for him, so let's get drunk. There's a lot of manly horseplay and fooling around, and probably a bottle of brandy in every scene, making for a heck of a drinking game. The awful truth of the war is hammered home in scenes of youthful recruits arriving fresh from their public schools, brimming with childish bravado, ready for a great adventure -- and totally ignorant of the fate that awaits them.
The cast, as usual, is superlative. Errol Flynn and David Niven are friends and drinking buddies (in real life as well as on screen) in the Royal Flying Corps, straining against the strict discipline of their commanding officer, Basil Rathbone. Rathbone gets a different sort of role: rather than the sneering villain, he portrays a sympathetic character torn apart by his duty to his superiors and his responsibility to the men he commands. In fact, the same dramatic arc afflicts Flynn and Niven in time, and the three great actors turn in some of the best performances of their careers.
The flying scenes of "Dawn Patrol" lack the scale of "Hell's Angels" or "Wings", and a lot of scenes were lifted directly from a 1930 film of the same name, directed by Howard Hawks. The California scenery distracts a little from the verisimilitude, but the squadrons of vintage Nieuport 28's and other aircraft should make up for any shortcomings in the locations. The meat of the story takes place on the ground -- unlike in "Hell's Angels" -- so the action scenes in the air serve more as punctuation marks.
Like previous First World War movies, "Dawn Patrol" portrays the cynicism and fatalism of the fighter pilots. They drink a toast to "the next man that dies", sing boisterous songs to bury their grief, and even welcome an enemy captive into their mess -- who cares whose side he's on, the war's over for him, so let's get drunk. There's a lot of manly horseplay and fooling around, and probably a bottle of brandy in every scene, making for a heck of a drinking game. The awful truth of the war is hammered home in scenes of youthful recruits arriving fresh from their public schools, brimming with childish bravado, ready for a great adventure -- and totally ignorant of the fate that awaits them.