STRATEGIC AIR COMMAND, visually impressive, dramatically inert, serves not just as a full-cooperation commercial for the U.S. Air Force (Eisenhower model) but a fair sample of the mindset of an era: bland paranoia. This 1955 ode to atomic age air power, partially because it reteamed favorites James Stewart and June Allyson, partially because ‘VistaVision’ was the closest look most people would get at what their taxes bought, soared to become the 8th most attended movie of the year. Granted, few left theaters humming the title tune “The Air Force Takes Command”.  *

1951. Once a WW2 pilot, now a St. Louis Cardinals 3rd baseman, ‘Dutch Holland’ (Jimmy, 46) is recalled to active duty in the new atom-age Air Force. Wife ‘Sally’ (Allyson, 36) isn’t thrilled but she’s as loyal as she is sweet and spunky—cuz its the mid 50s and she’s June Allyson. Under the stern prodding of ‘Gen. Ennis Hawkes’ (Frank Lovejoy), Dutch falls in line with the program and goes wide-eyed over the latest lethal aircraft. Duty strains the marital happiness, but We Know Dutch Will—Must—Do What A Man’s Gotta and since its the 50s, after a few throaty outbursts, She’ll Acquiesce. OK, they love each other, already: bring on those bombers!

This was the last of Stewart’s eight collaborations with director Anthony Mann (in ’55 they also rolled out The Man From Laramie and The Far Country), while Allyson offered more weepy wifey comfort to Alan Ladd’s recalled-to-Korea air ace in The McConnell Story. The script, by Valentine Davies (The Glenn Miller Story) and Beirne Lay Jr. (Twelve O’Clock High), not a strong point at the time, is risible tosh today, but the footage of the planes is spectacular: they’re given near rapturous treatment. With the Air Force dealing a flush, filming was done on bases in Fort Worth, Denver and Tampa.

“We never know when the other fella may start somethin’, so we’ve gotta be combat ready 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”  Takit vild guesski who da ‘odder fella’ eez…Write check for ___Trillions.

William H. Daniels manned the camera on the ground but the truly stellar aerial shots (under the supervision of Paul Mantz) were accomplished by Tom Tutwiler who also aced sky shooting for The Bridges At Toko-Ri, The Spirit Of St. Louis and The Hunters. You do have to put up with Victor Young’s overkill on the music score, practically religious awe, but it’s hard not to be wowed by the mighty—terrifying, given a second’s consideration—aircraft, a raw, gleaming display of city-vanquishing power. Mechanized dragons. A big screen comes in handy.

Lovejoy plays a thinly veiled version of Gen. Curtis ‘bomb’em to the Stone Age’ LeMay, complete with cigar-as-swagger-stick determination. Allyson could do Ideal Wife in her sleep (for Jimmy in The Stratton Story and The Glenn Miller Story) but her role here is particularly thankless. Stewart’s easy authority (buffered by personal experience) suffices for what the script demands, which basically is acceptance of the personal and collective national cost of bearing a “defense” toybox devouring sums sufficient for, oh, every other thing a society needs to function.

Crewcut or pony-tailed Americans—patriotic, curious or just out for a date—lined up at the box-office to the payload of $18,500,000. An Oscar nomination went for Best Story.

On duty, either stern or jovial: Harry Morgan (‘Sgt. Bible’), Barry Sullivan, Alex Nicol (surly guy who straightens up to fly right), Bruce Bennett, Jay C. Flippen, James Millican, Rosemary DeCamp, Don Haggerty, Strother Martin.

* SAC’s slogan was “Peace is our profession”, maybe because in Pentagonese it had a nicer ring than ‘Looming Population Eradication’. Sell me another one, Mr.’s President’s…

Brigadier General James Maitland Stewart (promoted to Major General by Prez pal Reagan) dutifully led the tween-wars info-formation that would include Toward The Unknown, Bombers B-52, X-15 and A Gathering Of Eagles. Watch your money fly away. Now cough up some more. Always more.

Mea culpa—for the knee-jerk mouth breathers among you, be assured we here in the fallout shelter aren’t dissing Jimmy Stewart, actor or man, a Colonel in the reserves at the time of the filming (the guy’s part of our USA DNA), and we honor his WW2 service:pulverizing Nazis gets a lifetime free pass. But watching these old feel-good postcards to Boeing death hardware and Commie-quivering agitprop is enough to spike blood pressure to DEFCON level (if you don’t drift into a coma from the boring personal/personnel problems in the scripts). How many forking times do you need to be conned before waking up to sniff the grift? Whoops, here comes the next Hitler! What? All our stuff is outmoded? Again? Pony up, sheep.