| Bob Aulert |
The Rocketeer plays at the Trylon Cinema from Sunday, August 10th, through Tuesday, August 12th. For tickets, showtimes, and other series information, visit trylon.org.
Up in the air, Junior Birdman
The Rocketeer (1991) blends nostalgia, adventure, romance, and patriotism into a classic superhero narrative. Set in the golden age of aviation during the late 1930s, it’s an adaptation of Dave Stevens’s comic book series of the same name, and offers more than just a thrilling ride—it’s a reflection of twentieth century American values, the romance of flight, and the eternal struggle between good and evil (particularly those pesky Nazis).
In 1938 Los Angeles, young stunt pilot Cliff Secord (Billy Campbell) discovers a mysterious jetpack hidden in his hangar. The device was developed by reclusive multimillionaire Howard Hughes but stolen by gangsters. It’s a top-secret prototype capable of turning a man into a flying weapon. As Cliff tests the jetpack with the help of his mechanic friend Peevy (Alan Arkin), he becomes entangled in a complex web of Nazi spies, led by suave and sinister Hollywood star Neville Sinclair (played in mustache-twirling fashion by Timothy Dalton), who wants the device for the Third Reich. Cliff’s girlfriend Jenny (Jennifer Connelly) is a struggling actress who is unknowingly caught in Sinclair’s manipulative web. As the stakes rise, Cliff must accept his destiny as a hero to protect his country and the woman he loves.
At the core of The Rocketeer is the question of: what makes a hero? Cliff doesn’t wear the jetpack for glory—he does it to protect those he cares about. The mask and helmet become symbols of heroism borne from circumstance rather than desire. This contrasts with Sinclair, who wears a mask of celebrity while hiding his sinister intentions.
The jetpack symbolizes human innovation, but the film questions whether such power should be wielded. In the hands of Cliff, it’s a tool for good. In the hands of the Nazis, it becomes a weapon of conquest. This tension between technological advancement and moral responsibility is still relevant today.
The 1930s setting places the film squarely in the pre-WWII era, when fascist ideologies were rising in Europe. The climax of the film—complete with Nazi propaganda reels and a zeppelin invasion—serves as a clear allegory for America’s coming role in defeating tyranny. The Rocketeer becomes a stand-in for American resistance to oppression.
Sinclair’s double life as a Hollywood star and Nazi agent speaks to the dual nature of the film industry: a maker of fantasies, but also a potential vehicle for manipulation. The Rocketeer lovingly recreates 1930s Hollywood, but it also reminds us not to take glitter at face value.
One of the film’s strengths is its visual design. Director Joe Johnston, who would later go on to helm Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), brings a sincere love for the era to the screen. The art deco aesthetic, vintage costumes, and classic aircraft designs ground the film in its time period without slipping into parody.
The special effects—though modest by today’s standards—are used effectively. The flying sequences are thrilling and believable, using a mix of practical effects and early CGI. The design of the Rocketeer helmet and suit is iconic, with its clean lines and retro-futuristic appeal.
When The Rocketeer was released in 1991, the world was emerging from the Cold War, and superhero films were not yet the dominant force they are today. The film arrived in the wake of Tim Burton’s Batman (1989) but before the modern Marvel and DC cinematic universes. Its box office performance was a modest $46.7 Million, due to competition from other summer releases and marketing issues. Disney struggled to figure out how to sell the movie—was it a family film? A period adventure? A superhero origin? This lack of clear branding hurt the film’s reach.
However, the film’s nostalgic tone resonated with audiences who appreciated its homage to classic adventure serials like Flash Gordon and Commando Cody. It also reflected a yearning for a simpler time, when good and evil were clearly defined, and heroism was grounded in selflessness.
Thematically, The Rocketeer speaks to the American mythos of the individual hero—someone who rises not because of power or destiny, but because of principle. This makes the film particularly resonant in times of national uncertainty.
Though not a commercial smash, The Rocketeer has endured as somewhat of a cult classic. Its influence can be seen in Johnston’s Captain America: The First Avenger, where The Rocketeer helped shape his vision for Steve Rogers—a similarly wholesome, brave hero with an old-school moral compass.
The Rocketeer is not without flaws. It’s saddled with slow pacing in the early scenes and underdevelopment of several characters. Jenny, while well-acted by Jennifer Connelly, is often relegated to the role of love interest and/or eye candy.
Nevertheless, these shortcomings are outweighed by the film’s sincerity and craftsmanship. It may not be perfect, but it is heartfelt—a quality sometimes missing in larger, more bombastic superhero fare.
The Rocketeer stands as a testament to old-fashioned storytelling, where valor, loyalty, and love drive the hero’s journey. While it may not have redefined the superhero genre, it offered a refreshing and sincere take that holds up remarkably well more than three decades later. Its combination of vintage charm, heroic ideals, and aesthetic beauty makes it a unique entry in the canon of comic book films.
In today’s world of cinematic universes and billion-dollar franchises, The Rocketeer reminds us that sometimes all it takes to be a hero is a bit of courage, a loyal friend, and the willingness to fly into danger for what’s right.
Edited by Olga Tchepikova-Treon