The Flight That Disappeared (1961)

The Flight That Disappeared (1961) is one of that sub-genre of films from the height of the Cold War era that tried to tap into contemporary fears of nuclear conflict and pitch a case for nuclear disarmament.  Or, at the very least, a halt to further development of nuclear weapons.   A painfully low budget independent production, distributed by United Artists, comes over today as being terribly naive in its belief that the development of ever more destructive weapons can be stymied simply by changing the minds of a tiny handful of scientists.  Its perspective on the nature of scientific advancement is rooted in the B-movie and pulp magazines of the thirties and forties, where brilliant, but eccentric, scientists worked alone in their basement labs, their research unknown to their peers (who would probably dismiss it out of hand, anyway).  In reality, of course, scientists worked in teams in institutions with well-equipped labs and shared their findings with their peers.  So the film's ending, with a top nuclear scientist destroying his latest work which could lead to the creation of an even more destructive bomb, (which is all contained within the pages of a single notebook), is essentially meaningless.  As are the vows of two fellow scientists to end their research into rockets and trajectories.  The fact is that such unilateral acts wouldn't stop further development of a super-weapon, as they would merely be small parts of wider teams working on such a project.

In dramatic terms, though, the film's biggest drawback is that it takes an age to get anywhere, with more than half the running length being taken up with scene-setting and introducing the various members of the eponymous flight's air crew and passengers and developing their back stories.  All of which is subsequently rendered pointless as, when the flight finally disappears, having climbed, out of control, far above normal flight ceilings and radar contact, it only the three scientists on the flight who matter.  As the airliner lies apparently motionless in limbo, they are the only ones left conscious and the only ones who the abductors of the flight are interested in.  The three scientists find themselves in a 'moment between time',  facing a 'jury' of future generations whose existence depends upon whether the new bomb the three scientists' research could create.  Consequently, they are given the usual visions of bombed out and ruined cities which will result from 'their' bomb.  Judged guilty, they are sentenced to remain in the 'moment' for all eternity, but are let off on the technicality that people from the past cannot be judged for actions they have not yet taken by those from the future.  Returned to the present, only the scientists remember their experience and the plane finally arrives at its destination, with the bemused crew and passengers being told that they are twenty four hours late.  The scientists decide to halt their research.

The Flight That Disappeared isn't a particularly bad movie, despite its shortcomings, but it stretches a thin central idea out too far.  Even at only seventy two minutes, it feels far too long for the material.  Indeed, its low budget and limited locations - most of the action takes place either in the airliner interior set or the mainly featureless limbo -  results in the film feeling very much like an episode of an old radio or TV anthology series - which would have had the entire scenario satisfactorily wrapped up in less than half an hour.  This feeling is reinforced by the strictly second string B-movie cast and black and white photography.  Veteran director of second features Reginald LeBorg does his best with the resources he has at hand and delivers a suitably serious and low-key film but can't disguise the fact that the film is essentially seventy two minutes of preaching as to the evils of nuclear weapons.  Which is a fine and well-meaning sentiment, but hardly entertaining.