Flakes on a Plane
There I was with a dinner to eat and a couple hours to kill. Oh look, Flight Risk freshly available on HBO Max. I hadn't heard great things – I hadn't heard much of anything. But Mark Wahlberg, Michelle Dockery, and Topher Grace directed by Mel Gibson, how bad can it possibly be?
Bad.
I honestly can't think of a worse movie I've seen in recent memory. Granted, I tend to avoid overtly bad movies and had I just looked at the Metacritic score ahead of time, I probably would have avoided this one. Instead, I just went for it. My god.
The premise is fine, I guess. The person who is the reason for the flight is a flight risk, but also the flight itself turns into the risk. Get it? And I sort of like the notion of having a small group of actors naturally contained in one space for an entire movie. And I even like all of the actors involved here individually!
But put together, they just don't work. Part of it is the accents – more Dockery's American accent than Wahlberg's faux redneck one (because it was part of the plot) – but a bigger part was Wahlberg's hair situation. I mean, did he insist on shaving his head so there would be stubble so people wouldn't dare think he's actually bald or something? It just looks ridiculous.
From there, it only gets worse. Topher Grace tries to do Topher Grace stuff but it doesn't work here. Comically obvious plot points are revealed with zero subtlety – "how did you know we were going to Seattle?" The whole fear-of-flying angle, which is actually the one thing that might make sense for the plot, quickly flies out the window, though sadly no one else does until the end. I quite enjoyed how the autopilot on the tiny prop plane flying over mountains in Alaska was super smooth and flew perfect for most of the flight, but when the pilots were in control, that's when the shit hit the fan.
I also loved the warning not to fire the gun in the plane lest it take the whole thing down, followed by endless firing in the plane, including of a flare gun.
I'm sorry, but nothing can possibly top when the nice man over the radio helping the person who has never flown before (yet keeps reading off altitude measurements as if she's an experienced pilot?) tells her that she should do a trial run at the landing, knowing she's running out of fuel – and not to mention that one of the characters is dying from blood loss. They only don't because she refuses and sure enough, when she goes to do the actual landing, there's no more fuel. In other words, had she done the trial run of the landing, they'd all be dead. This is never addressed.
Oh look, a perfectly prepared syringe of morphine!
But at least they addressed the fact that the flight risk guy knew one random payment he helped orchestrate for the mob or whomever was going to a specific area of New York where, as it turns out, the head of the FBI or whomever also happens to live, as he discloses while telling his agent to make sure to call him at home, and very specifically says to call him at his home in that very specific area of New York. What a twist!
The same FBI director or whomever takes about five seconds to admit to murdering his subordinates when the accusation is made. Oh yes, and then he's of course on the phone with the would-be assassin at the (mercifully short) end.1 AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY FOR IT TOO, IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU PESKY KIDS.
Honestly, I'm embarrassed for everyone involved in this movie. I'm also embarrassed that anyone would give this film a rating above zero. Mel Gibson, for all his faults, has directed some great movies. Some truly great ones, even. What the fuck was this?
