Wives Of The Skies just popped up out of the blue, and I hadn’t heard anything about it — but it being only a shade over twenty minutes long, I thought I’d give it a quick watch. I’ll be honest — I hadn’t a clue about what I was going to see and was kept guessing throughout… but in a good way!
What Wives In The Skies starts off as is a mid ’60s (there is actually a fake copyright, screen dated 1965) ‘documentary’ about how wanton and promiscuous air stewardesses are. Such were the sensibilities of the time that it was hard to tell whether this was going to be an actual documentary or a period porno film; the saddest thing is that, thinking back to the times, either was equally possible.
I found myself shouting at the screen as all the ‘stewardess’ stereotypes were paraded in front of us…
…the Fine Air stewardesses are actually air heads, even: “what’s a documentary?”; it’s acceptable to stare at their breasts, bottoms, and legs; the shock horror of them saying they’re married (noooo!!!) — pause — to their jobs (yayyyy!!!)… and the assumption that they are waiting to have sex with any man who crosses their paths.
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But then writer/director Honey Lauren pulls it all out of the bag and manages to flip things around.
The flip comes about a third of the way through, when ‘things’ happen, which I would need a heavy spoiler alert to say any more about. Suffice to say Ms Lauren managed to find a way to showcase the roots of toxic masculinity in the way the media presented women, but in a way that is funny and entertaining.
Wives Of The Skies is a short little joy, when it could have been a polemic
The stewardesses are wonderfully played by Rachel Alig (Fran) and Maddison Bullock (Marcy), while Drew Brandon Jones is the delightfully seedy, but not irredeemable, Derrick the Documentary Maker.
I really like this — to the extent that I’ve watched it four times today — and can never think of the phrase, “Dinner… is ready,” again, without picturing a certain dish!
Just catch this one. Well worth 20 minutes of your time.
Movie Grade: A-
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Former teacher, lecturer, homelessness administrator, pharmacy dispenser now happily retired, happily married, and a very happy granddad. I live next to the Mersey but on the side Daniel Craig and Taron Egerton come from rather than the side the Beatles came from!
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Jill Florio Administrator
I really enjoyed this one. It was the right length for what they were going for and a cute little ending. Plus…some mild kinky weirdness.
Do you remember 1960s air travel as anything remotely like this?
You cheeky madam!
I was just really hitting puberty as the sixties finished… how am I supposed to remember?
Actually I’m probably the worst person to ask about air travel as I haven’t flown since they made a reasonable level of sobriety a requirement of getting on an aeroplane.
Having said that I am aware of the rampant sexism that was prevalent then and, sadly, still is. My first wife was a very strong, self assured woman and she taught me a lot of things and working in Socialist, inner city councils for forty years will make you think very carefully when you talk to someone… and I hope it makes you a better person.
Oh… I apologise to Americans for using the “S” word!
But, having calmed down, yes!!! It was a great little film!
I must admit to being of an age when a trip to the cinema meant, as follows…
Second feature or ‘B’ movie
Now the second feature was usually a short movie… probably less than half an hour. One I still remember fondly was a dramatisation of the Betjaman poem “A Subaltern’s Love-song”. It’s a forty four line poem, so can’t last long, but it was lovely and felt like you were getting a full evenings entertainment for your money. This is when these short movies would be ideal!
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish’d and burnish’d by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament – you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn…