The problems start with James Franco, who plays lead flyboy in the story of American airman flying for the French during World War I. It's based on a true story, which has kind of become the de facto excuse for making bad movies. Hey don't blame us! That's the way it is. Right. I'm not buying it. Franco plays a Texan with a southern accent that drifts in and out as if propelled by the wind. Sometimes he's a flying cowpoke, sometimes he's James Franco. Mostly, he's just bad at doing anything other than looking James Dean good.
Franco's squadron of biplane flying companions makes a motley crew of dissimilar comrades. There's the black guy who can't get a break in the U.S., the religious guy, the guy who's afraid to fight, the funny guy who can't shoot straight, and the snobby rich kid. They're bossed around by an oh-so-dark and dashing squadron commander and default French guy Jean Reno. Whatever happened to Gerard Depardieu?
Flyboys exists in a lazy, laid back version of The Great War that simply could not have existed. The pilots lounge around in picturesque France, taking their time to learn to fly and shoot while somewhere over that stand of trees somewhere a war happens. Sometimes they go out and sometimes they die, but our heroes always come back home to a nice cozy, safe bed. The reality of the first terrible world war never really touches the characters in this film and because of that we never get any tangible sense of what exactly it is that they're fighting for.
Let's face it though, if you're anything like me you're here for the dogfights. Prop plane dogfighting hasn't been done right...