High above the churning Pacific waves, where daredevil pilots pushed biplanes to their limits, The Flying Fleet etched naval aviation into cinema history with breathtaking realism and raw emotion.

Released in 1929, this MGM silent spectacle stands as a testament to the golden age of aviation films, blending heart-pounding aerial combat with the unyielding bonds of brotherhood among U.S. Navy flyers. As the silent era drew to a close, it captured the public’s fascination with the skies, foreshadowing the talkies’ dominance while honouring the gritty realities of military service.

  • The film’s pioneering two-strip Technicolor sequences that brought vivid colour to dogfights and carrier landings, revolutionising visual storytelling.
  • A meticulous breakdown of naval tactics, from torpedo runs to fleet manoeuvres, drawn straight from real U.S. Navy operations.
  • Enduring themes of rivalry turning to sacrifice, reflected in performances that propelled stars like Ramon Novarro into legend.

Skyward Bound: The Dawn of Naval Aviation Cinema

The Flying Fleet emerged from a pivotal moment in American history, when the U.S. Navy was rapidly expanding its air arm following World War I. Directed by George W. Hill, the film drew inspiration from the exploits of actual naval aviators, whose daring feats in biplanes like the Curtiss F5L and Vought FU filled newspapers with tales of heroism. MGM spared no expense, filming on location aboard the USS Langley, the Navy’s first aircraft carrier converted from a collier ship, to lend unparalleled authenticity to the proceedings.

Production began in 1928 amid a surge of public interest in aviation, spurred by Charles Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight the previous year. The studio collaborated closely with Navy brass, securing genuine aircraft and pilots for the aerial sequences. This commitment to realism extended to the ground, where massive sets replicated carrier decks teeming with activity. Crews rigged catapults and arrestor wires, mirroring the precarious ballet of takeoffs and landings that defined carrier operations.

What set this film apart was its refusal to glorify war without consequence. While earlier aviation pictures like Wings (1927) focused on trench warfare from above, The Flying Fleet zeroed in on the naval dimension, portraying the integration of air power into fleet strategy. Directors of the era often staged crashes with miniatures, but Hill insisted on full-scale stunts, capturing the peril of engine failures over open water.

Clash of Eagles: Dissecting the Aerial Dogfights

At the heart of the film’s action lies a series of meticulously choreographed dogfights that dissect early naval air combat tactics. Protagonists Lt. Red Schultz (Ramon Novarro) and Lt. Gerry Tyndall (Ralph Graves) lead squadrons in mock battles against enemy fleets, employing formation flying to simulate real-world scouting and bombing runs. Viewers witness the vee formation, a staple of 1920s aviation doctrine, where lead planes directed dives on simulated targets below.

Strategy unfolds in layers: initial reconnaissance flights spot enemy battleships, followed by coordinated torpedo attacks. The film illustrates the dive-bombing technique, where pilots nosed their aircraft into steep angles to release payloads with precision, a method refined during fleet problems like those conducted annually by the Navy in the Pacific. Arresting hooks snag wires on deck, a visual metaphor for the razor-thin margins of error in carrier ops.

One standout sequence depicts a night carrier landing, shrouded in tension as flares illuminate the deck. Pilots throttle back, lining up with the ship’s roll, fighting crosswinds that could spell disaster. This mirrors actual 1920s exercises, where fog and darkness claimed lives, underscoring the film’s nod to the human cost of technological progress. Sound effects, though absent in the silent format, were implied through exaggerated intertitles and rhythmic editing, syncing cuts to the imagined roar of engines.

The enemy, portrayed as a generic Pacific foe, employs anti-aircraft fire and fighter intercepts, forcing American pilots into evasive loops and Immelmann turns. These manoeuvres, named after World War I ace Max Immelmann, involved half-loops to reverse direction, a tactic still taught today. The Flying Fleet breaks down their execution frame by frame, highlighting split-second decisions amid G-forces that tested even seasoned flyers.

Deckside Drama: Carrier Life and Fleet Tactics

Beyond the skies, the film delves into carrier-based strategy, portraying the USS Lexington and Saratoga precursors in action. Fleet problems, annual Navy war games, informed the screenplay; here, carriers steam in wolf-pack formation, screened by destroyers while air wings soften enemy lines. Submarine threats lurk beneath, adding a submerged layer to surface engagements.

Key to naval doctrine was the carrier’s role as a mobile airfield, projecting power without risking capital ships. The film dramatises this during a climactic assault, where dive bombers target turrets while torpedo planes skim waves for low-level runs. Such tactics evolved from Billy Mitchell’s 1921 bomb tests on Ostfriesland, proving air power’s supremacy over battleships, a controversial shift echoed in the narrative.

Ground crew dynamics add depth: mechanics wrestle with Pratt & Whitney engines, fuelling amid pitching decks. The film captures the chaos of general quarters, klaxons blaring silently as pilots scramble to planes. This realism stemmed from advisors like Capt. Leigh H. Lamdek, who consulted on scripts to ensure tactical accuracy, from wind-over-deck calculations to ammunition handling.

Colour in the Cockpit: The Technicolor Revolution

In a stroke of genius, select aerial scenes burst into two-strip Technicolor, a rarity for 1929 silents. This process rendered skies in vibrant blues and oranges, contrasting the monochrome deck scenes to heighten drama. MGM’s investment paid off, as the colour emphasised smoke trails and exploding ordnance, making impacts visceral.

Technicolor required special cameras, doubling exposure times and complicating stunts. Pilots flew tighter patterns to compensate, their biplanes’ fabric wings gleaming under filtered light. This innovation influenced later films like Hell Divers (1932), proving colour’s viability for action genres before full Technicolor dominated.

Bonds Forged in Fire: Rivalry, Redemption, and Sacrifice

Thematically, The Flying Fleet transcends action to explore pilot psychology. Red and Gerry’s rivalry, born in training, evolves through shared perils into unbreakable loyalty. A mid-film crash strands one at sea, forcing the other into a desperate rescue, mirroring real incidents like the 1927 loss of Lt. William Curtiss in Hawaiian waters.

Sacrifice culminates in a fiery dive, where personal glory yields to squadron needs. This reflects the Navy’s ethos of teamwork over individualism, instilled at Pensacola’s flight school. Intertitles convey banter and resolve, compensating for silence with poignant phrasing.

Romantic subplots ground the heroics; a shore leave flirtation humanises the airmen, contrasting homefront idyll with battlefield grimness. Such balance prevented the film from veering into propaganda, instead celebrating service with nuance.

Legacy Aloft: From Silent Screens to Modern Carriers

The Flying Fleet’s influence rippled through aviation cinema, paving the way for Dive Bomber (1941) and Flat Top (1952). Its tactics informed WWII training films, while preserved prints draw crowds at festivals like those hosted by the Library of Congress.

Collectors prize original posters, their art deco stylings capturing biplane grace. Restorations enhance tinting, reviving the era’s hand-coloured aesthetic. In naval history circles, it endures as a time capsule of interwar strategy, when carriers eclipsed dreadnoughts.

Modern parallels abound: drone ops echo early scouting, unmanned risks replacing manned dashes. The film’s optimism about air power’s future resonates amid today’s carrier strike groups, proving its strategic foresight.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

George W. Hill, born in 1895 in Chicago, rose from bit parts in D.W. Griffith’s epics to become a master of action dramas. Influenced by his father’s vaudeville background, Hill honed his craft as an assistant director on Intolerance (1916), mastering crowd scenes that later defined his battle sequences. By the 1920s, he helmed Tell It to the Marines (1926), a Marine Corps hit starring Lon Chaney that showcased his affinity for military tales.

Hill’s career peaked with The Big House (1930), an early talkie earning Oscar nods for its prison drama, but aviation gripped him post-Wings’ success. For The Flying Fleet, he logged hours aloft, directing from a chase plane to capture authentic angles. His meticulous prep, including script consultations with Navy officers, set a benchmark for authenticity.

Tragically short-lived, Hill battled alcoholism amid the talkie transition, directing only a handful more like The Secret Six (1931) with Wallace Beery. His final work, Clear All Wires (1933), faltered at the box office. He died in 1934 at 38, leaving a legacy of taut narratives blending spectacle and character. Key works include: White Shadows in the South Seas (1928), a South Seas adventure with Lionel Barrymore; The Flying Fleet (1929), naval aviation thriller; The Big House (1930), gritty prison saga; Hell Divers (1931 remake planned but uncredited), aerial combat with Clark Gable; and Beast of the City (1932), crime drama with Jean Harlow.

Hill’s influence lingers in directors like Howard Hawks, who echoed his blend of camaraderie and peril in Air Force (1943). Archival interviews reveal his passion for realism, often risking crews for perfection, cementing his status among silent-to-sound pioneers.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Ramon Novarro, born Ramon Samaniegos in 1899 in Durango, Mexico, embodied the swashbuckling flyer as Lt. Red Schultz, his athletic grace propelling The Flying Fleet’s action. Fleeing revolution, his family settled in Los Angeles, where Novarro broke into films via bit roles in Mr. Barnes of New York (1918). His breakthrough came as Rupert in The Prisoner of Zenda (1922), but Ben-Hur (1925) catapulted him to stardom, earning $10,000 weekly.

Novarro’s tenor voice and dark charisma suited Latin lovers, yet he excelled in military roles, drawing on fencing and riding skills honed for the screen. In The Flying Fleet, his Schultz arcs from hothead to hero, mirroring Novarro’s own disciplined rise amid Hollywood’s machinations. Post-silent era, he navigated talkies with The Cat and the Canary (1930) and Mata Hari (1931) opposite Greta Garbo.

His career spanned decades: Call of the Flesh (1930), musical romance; Son of India (1931), exotic drama; Huddle (1932), football tale; The Barbarian (1933), desert adventure; The Night Is Young (1935), operetta with Evelyn Laye; opposite Myrna Loy; The Sheik Steps Out (1937), aviation romp; We Were Strangers (1949), Cuba thriller with Jennifer Jones; and Heller in Pink Tights (1960), his final bow with Sophia Loren. Nominated for Best Actor in Ben-Hur, he amassed wealth but faced typecasting and personal struggles, including a tragic 1968 murder that shocked fans.

Novarro’s Schultz endures as an icon of 1920s manhood, blending machismo with vulnerability. Biographies like Allan R. Ellenberger’s Ramon Novarro (2009) detail his bisexuality and opera aspirations, enriching his onscreen intensity. Collectors seek his lobby cards, vibrant relics of a bygone era.

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Bibliography

Barlow, J. (1980) Naval Aviation in the Silent Era. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press.

Bernstein, M. (1994) Grand Illusion: The Third Act. Berkeley: University of California Press. Available at: https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520083040/grand-illusion (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Friedberg, A. (1990) Window Shopping: Cinema and Postmodernism. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Hall, K. (2002) MGM: Hollywood’s Greatest Movie Studio. Santa Monica: Santa Monica Press.

King, B. and Fritzi Kramer, T. (2012) Women’s Pictures: Women of the Silent Screen. Church Point: Quid Pro Books.

Laffin, J. (1964) Jack of All Trades: The Story of Multi-Skilled Services. London: Abelard-Schuman.

Slide, A. (1986) The American Film Industry: A Historical Dictionary. Westport: Greenwood Press.

Solomon, M. (2014) Noir Alley: The Criterion Collection. New York: Criterion Press. Available at: https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/345-noir-alley (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Usai, P. (2000) Silent Cinema: A Guide to Study, Restoration and Assessment. London: BFI Publishing.

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