Originally posted on Midwest Film Journal

If the archetypal Denzel Washington performance can be summarized in a single word, it would be “control”. No matter who he’s playing, we in the audience trust that his character has things under control. Robert Zemeckis knows we expect this, which is why he opens his 2012 character drama Flight with Denzel strutting down a hotel hallway to Joe Cocker’s “Feelin’ Alright” after ripping a line of cocaine. In fact, it’s so in line with what we expect from his characters, it could certainly be seen as a cocky needle drop so on-the-nose that it’s meant to play for laughs. But like the plane that Denzel’s pilot character Whip Whitaker flips mid-air later in the first act, Zemeckis inverts Denzel’s cool, calm and collected persona in his story of compromised heroism. Washington has been outstanding in many films but his work in Flight remains my favorite of his still-thriving career.

As Whip Whitaker, Denzel exudes the brand of confidence we expect of our commercial captains and it’s not unearned. After taking off from Orlando, Whitaker ably navigates through a storm during takeoff so perilous that it even rattles his young co-pilot Ken Evans (Brian Geraghty). We learn Whip was likely able to stay so sedate during the emergency because he’s still drunk the night before, a condition he exacerbates by pouring a couple shooters of vodka into an orange juice bottle while addressing the cockpit after the fracas. A sudden mechanical failure leads Evans to cede control of the plane back to Whitaker, who turns an uncontrolled nosedive into a crash landing that spares the lives of almost all aboard. Whip wakes up in the hospital with Charlie Anderson (Bruce Greenwood), a friend of Whip’s since their days together in the Navy, by his bed on behalf of the pilots union.

Now it’s Charlie’s turn to navigate a vessel on the ground even more unstable than the one Whip maneuvered in the sky. Charlie and Whip go back a ways but the former doesn’t seem to realize the extent of the latter’s personal issues until he learns more about the details of the emergency crash-land. Charlie brings in a “co-pilot” in the form of criminal negligence attorney Hugh Lang (Don Cheadle), who calls attention to the toxicology report done in the hospital that indicates Whip’s BAC as .0.24%. Given the scale of the crash, the National Transportation Safety Board is forced to conduct a thorough investigation and though Whitaker’s actions were heroic, his compromised state during the flight means he could be facing serious prison time. While waiting for the NTSB to rule on the cause of the crash, Whip finds comfort in the arms of Nicole (Kelly Reilly), a fellow addict he met while recovering in the hospital.

Wisely, Zemeckis doesn’t allow his film to get mired in the bureaucracy of lawyers prepping for the public hearing the NTSB will hold to pass along their findings about the incident. Flight is focused on Whip, what drives him to drink and why it’s so difficult for him to confront his alcoholism. He sees in Nicole a wounded soul struggling to overcome her demons but doesn’t quite seem to consider how much alike they may be. Like everyone else, she’s in awe of the expertise and instinct that allowed him to save all but 6 of the 102 people onboard that fateful flight. But the stress of the NTSB’s in-depth inquiry leads Whip to hit the bottle even harder than usual, causing Nicole to take the role of caretaker more than girlfriend. She hasn’t known him long but knows he needs help, twisting his arm to attend an AA meeting in which he sullenly sits cross-armed before leaving a few minutes after it begins.

As a Denzel Washington vehicle, what Flight does so brilliantly is make us reconsider the confident characters that the larger-than-life actor has portrayed in the past and wonder how many had the struggles that Whip has here. If the first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one, he’s been stubbornly standing with his heels together for years. Even though it cost him his marriage and a relationship with his now-teenaged son, his addiction remains the most crucial priority in Whip’s existence. Calling the aftermath of the crash a “come to Jesus moment” lines up nicely with the “Act Of God” designation that can appear on accident reports. When Lang brings up the term while surveying the crash site with Whitaker, Whip solemnly ponders “whose God would do this?” Zemeckis taps on the theme of religion earlier in the movie, by way of a cancer patient character played by James Badge Dale who posits that even if you hate God, you’d be a fool not to believe in one.

Though every actor who appears in Flight, including John Goodman and Melissa Leo, makes the absolute best of the screen time they have, Washington is not only perfect for this role but flawless in his execution. After spending more time with Charlie and Hugh after the accident, he’s all too happy to direct his indignation at the airline for giving him a plane that was doomed to fail but isn’t able to admit that his intoxicated state points to deep moral failing. The scene where he attends the funeral of one of the flight attendants shines a spotlight on the vulnerability that Washington brings to this performance. He spends most of his time up to the NTSB hearing scrambling to cover his six, specifically in trying to convince one of the surviving flight attendants that he was in good shape to fly. His desperation and consternation in this moment flies in the face of the stoic, sun-glassed specialist we see in the opening moments of the movie.

Rewatching Flight after seeing Zemeckis’ disastrous Here in theaters last month, it’s a testament to just how right or wrong the veteran filmmaker can go depending on the story he’s piloting. After the one-two punch of What Lies Beneath and Cast Away — the latter which incidentally hinges on a plane crash — in 2000, he spent the rest of the decade on mo-cap animated ventures that leaned into technical innovation. Though the terrifying aircraft setpiece in Flight utilizes CG effects, they still look convincing and Zemeckis holsters the technical wizardry throughout the remainder of the film. He trusts his actors and knows that the special effect is in watching these performers make magic in their interaction with one another.