So after reading Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff, we were curious about its
cinematic depiction. We’ve read the book too recently to make this judgment, but Wolfe’s book might be in our top-15. That’s top 15 books we’ve ever read, which includes many books written before 1900, FYI.
Anyway, as is typical of white people like us, the movie just doesn’t compare, and that darn sure makes us upset.
The Right Stuff movie is simply a collection of the best scenes from the book, all strung together without an obvious point. For example, we get the scene where Alan Shepherd, preparing to become the first American in space, has to urinate while sitting in his capsule waiting for launch. Should he go, or not? Wolfe has dozens of funny, unexpected moments of the early American space program, tied together with two or three key themes. The movie tries but ultimately fails in communicating those themes.
One of them is the pilot hierarchy, the ziggurat that all pilots attempt to ascend, in order to become the best. Those at the top of the ziggurat have “the right stuff,” which Wolfe cleverly rephrases several times as “the righteous stuff.” Basically, in the early ’60s, the astronauts-turned-pilots were a modern version of an ancient warrior-class, and they were treated as such by American citizens and their media.
Wolfe contrasts one part of the pilot hierarchy, the rocket plane pilots, which included Chuck Yeager, with the Mercury astronauts. Wolfe’s implicit point is that the rocket pilots were really the ones who deserved the glory that the astronauts received. After all, the rocket pilots were breaking air speed records regularly, flying into space, and actually controlling the crafts they were flying in. By contrast, the Mercury astronauts were doing the same things that NASA-trained chimpanzees were trained to do: push a bunch of buttons, sit on a rocket, and don’t panic. The Mercury astronauts weren’t really piloting anything, even though they really wanted to be.
The movie attempts this contrast, especially with Yeager’s character, but the whole point of the difference between the two sets of pilots is lost because there is no narrator to explain it. We are left to infer the pilot group differences from the images, but a lot of explanation was apparently left out in the editing room. So Yeager in this movie becomes just another brave American hero; he’s almost kind of a throw-in here, and so it would’ve made sense to leave him out. Whereas the book ends with the bravest exploit of all — Yeager’s last flight, in which he had to eject and nearly had his finger and face burnt off — the movie ends with a minor Mercury astronaut flying into space right after Yeager’s insane flight.
What then is this movie’s thesis? It is difficult to tell. Maybe it’s that the early astronauts were ordinary guys with ordinary gals as wives, all caught up in a world-historical event. But that’s a maybe. It’s really hard to tell.
There’s more we could say, but let’s forego that and end with a simple, constant piece of advice: don’t watch the movie, and instead read the book. The book is far better than the movie.
Entertainment: 6
Intelligence: 4
Morality: 5