Written by Andreas Babiolakis

For National Astronaut Day, here is a review of The Right Stuff.

There aren’t many films that unite all walks of life — particularly picky cinephiles — into one movie house, but the ones that do (and continue to do so for generations after their release) feel nearly miraculous. It’s almost like the big dream of a film critic: to be able to implore the viewing of a film that we feel close to certain that anyone will find something valuable within. No having to worry about picky film buffs, or the general public enduring an experimental piece. We don’t have to prepare for the wrath of readers that feel duped by our lack of expertise. With all of this rambling in mind, let us begin by my statement that Philip Kaufman’s The Right Stuff is such a film. It was an awards season darling in 1983, but it would come up short at the Academy Awards, winning only for its tech and music (which, while great, still means it lost the major awards like Best Picture to films like Terms of Endearment); it was similarly underwhelming at the box office, but it would fare better via home release.

None of these pitfalls matter when the film showcases its endurance throughout contemporary history. In nearly thirty years, The Right Stuff has cemented itself as one of the finest filmic depictions of space travel (not named 2001: A Space Odyssey, mind you). Featuring a retelling of the creation of the Mercury Seven (pilots of varying backgrounds chosen for the first American spaceflight involving human passengers), the dramatic epic follows many essentials for crowd pleasing features. Powerful music? Check (thanks to Bill Conti’s score). Jaw dropping effects and production? Check. A superstar cast? Check (Dennis Quaid, Ed Harris), check (Sam Shepard, Barbara Hershey, Scott Glenn), and check (Veronica Cartwright, Jeff Goldblum, Harry Shearer, and so many more). As we spend the better portion of three hours watching the creation of the project, the training of the selected few pilots, and the eventual take off and flight itself, all of these crucial details and expositional rollouts are done with just the right pacing and editing. It’s a longer film, sure, but it doesn’t feel like it is. If anything, I wouldn’t have minded if it kept going.

The pacing of The Right Stuff is at the perfect speed, so we can soak in all of the senses of discovery and aspiration.

While all of this is well and good, I find that films that try to appeal to everybody via one formulaic layer can only get so far with me. With this in mind, I now direct you to exhibit B: the Chuck Yeager subplot. While all of the Mercury Seven stuff is going on, we are also kept in touch with the efforts of this iconic Air Force pilot. The key is in the film’s name: The Right Stuff. We spend so much time looking at the exclusive team of qualified candidates, but Kaufman poses another question: what if we missed, perhaps, the most accomplished flier of all? The space exploration mission is a national story, with so much attention devoted to it (the film itself is intentionally guilty of this as well), but The Right Stuff also gives Yeager his own focuses of victory when the moments are right (including the literal ending climax of the film, which may even outweigh the launch to outer space).

This is a side of biographical pictures that isn’t explored enough, and while Yeager’s records were noteworthy in their own right, it still feels like Kaufman was championing the outlier. We also get a hypothesis that ponders how accurate these extensive tests are: if NASA was trying to find pilots with “the right stuff”, why wasn’t Yeager in the final squad? His final triumph is juxtaposed with one of astronaut Gordo Cooper’s, and I don’t want to say too much there, but it’s this kind of parallel that Kaufman uses to make us question what legacy even means. It’s an open ended question of sorts, but it makes the film stick with you for hours after you’re done watching.

This is the primary example of the extra distance The Right Stuff is willing to go, but there are a few minor cases additionally. It’s this kind of effort that helps the film stand outside of the works that it could easily get lumped into. It doesn’t simply rehash a story of true events: it aims to be its own successful film. It ends when it wants to. It balances personal connection with technical prioritization on its own terms. Kaufman feels in complete control with this opus, and this is why it doesn’t feel like it came from a blueprint (despite how standard the film is). This isn’t a film that lazily rests on the conventions of old: it just happens to resemble them whilst being its own film through and through.

The Chuck Yeager portions of *The Right Stuff* are just as fascinating as the core story, if not more.

The Right Stuff is well rounded. We see why this mission is important to its team, to those that fell short of qualifying, to NASA, to the entire American nation, and to the world amidst its space race. It is a thorough story within a production spectacle. It is as calculated as it is organic. It is driven by cheer worthy moments, but not blindly. There doesn’t seem to be any form of preparation that any film lover would need to enjoy this classic; maybe just a nice, comfortable spot, some fulfilling snacks, and the readiness to be glued to the screen for over three hours. You won’t want to go anywhere else, anyway. Amidst so many films that bait awards season ceremonies into rewarding the wrong films (of which possess only temporary legacies), The Right Stuff is the real deal. It, like Chuck Yeager, persevered in the end, past its blockbuster and Oscar driven contemporaries. It is a staple of 80s mainstream cinema for a reason: in an industry that falls for false and synthetic works, The Right Stuff is the real deal.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from X University (formerly known as Ryerson), as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.