Masters of the Air is a huge, epic second world war drama, more than a decade in the making, filled with matinee-idol movie stars. It follows Band of Brothers and The Pacific but moves the story from land and water to the sky. Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks are executive producers and Dee Rees and Cary Fukunaga are among its directors.
Over nine episodes, it follows the American men of the 100th bomb group as they undertake perilous aerial missions. As Barry Keoghan’s Lt Curtis Biddick has it – and picture this in an old-time New York accent – they must “knock one off and drop bombs on those Nazi fucks”.
The cast list is so large that the credits are stuffed with shots of actors we don’t even meet until far, far into the series (Ncuti Gatwa and Bel Powley, for example), but at the heart of it all is the inseparable duo of Maj John “Bucky” Egan (Callum Turner) and Maj Gale “Buck” Cleven (Austin Butler).
Bucky is a rabble-rouser and a drinker who fights with passion, while Buck is solid, sedate and tempers Bucky’s fire. Both actors are phenomenal. As quickly becomes clear, their missions are not so much fraught with danger as a compulsory ticket to a mortality lottery with dreadful odds. Every time they depart, there is no guarantee they will make it back.
You might think this would make it hard to get attached to any of the characters, and that a wise viewer would try to avoid doing so, but this is far from the case. The emotional attachments are raw and almost immediate. Later in the series, we are told that many of those who survive refuse to get to know the new, younger intake; they know what it is like to lose friends. The Bloody Hundredth, as they were known, suffered enormous losses and Masters of the Air is determined not to glorify war.
But it is as thrilling as it is terrible. That is part of the reason that some of the men can go up again and again, despite the grim reaper hovering over the cockpit. When we are told that there is a minute until they reach the bombs’ target, it becomes the longest minute, and it is horribly, gut-twistingly tense. It is gory and harrowing, but never loses sight of its humanity.
Leading up to the big finale, the 100th Bomb Group has gone from hopeful and green pilots to disillusioned soldiers scattered around enemy territory. Various missions over Germany have left the group without its two star pilots—and a recent trip over Münster saw one single plane return intact.
Unlike the trench warfare of Band of Brothers, these pilots were sitting ducks up in the sky. Episode 5 focused on the legendary Rosie Rosenthal, while episode 8 took a break from the action to pay homage to the Tuskegee Airmen. In the final episode, we'll see how those who were shot down from the skies - yet managed to survive - spent the remainder of the war.
Structurally, the show is quite different to Band of Brothers or The Pacific, which flung their protagonists into the attrition of unrelenting conflict. The nature of bombing raids necessitates a dynamic based on excursion and return – return being the uncertain variable. Back at base in England, there is liquor and dancing and women.
In a typically intense scene we are put in the midst of a US bombing mission over Nazi Germany. With dozens of other planes falling from the sky and one of their own engines on fire, a fighter plane's co-pilot thinks it is time to parachute out. The pilot, Major Gale "Buck" Cleven (Austin Butler) grabs him by the arm and yells, "We're going to sit here and take it! You hear me? We're going to sit here and take it!"
Anthony Boyle narrates the series as Major Harry Crosby, a navigator constantly getting airsick, and at first seems to be merely comic relief. As the series goes on, Crosby becomes one of the most layered characters, carrying the weight of its themes about the emotional cost of war. Rafferty Law is charming as a young mechanic, and Branden Cook is a forceful presence as one of the Tuskegee Airmen – from the famed unit of black fliers created because the US Army was segregated – who is talented at mapping routes to escape the enemy.
Butler glistens on screen like a young Adonis. He and Turner dress like rock stars: sheepskin jackets, aviator glasses, and toothpicks. The dazzlingly saturated colour palette is a far cry from the washed-out horrors of Band of Brothers, while the choreography, whether that’s in the dancehall or in a dogfight, feels more choreographed.
But when the first plumes of smoke from anti-aircraft guns break through the cloud cover, it is hard to resist Masters of the Air. The Bloody Hundredth, staffed by men scarcely into adulthood, might be a glamorous bunch, but they are also losing their innocence. Playing out on a canvas in the skies, this is daring, big-budget filmmaking.
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