Top Gun (40th anniversary) - Review 

Rating: 5 out of 5

FEW films carry the significance of Tony Scott’s Top Gun when you look at its place in cinematic history, especially from a technical viewpoint.

This high octane tale of fighter jets and the cocky pilots who fly them set new benchmarks for adrenaline-fuelled blockbusters, not least for the way in which it took you as close as possible to experiencing what it might be like to sit in one of the cockpits of those planes.

It’s a measure of the film’s technical ingenuity and close access to US military infrastructure that the only film, really, to rival it since the original’s release 40 years ago is, well, the sequel, Top Gun: Maverick.

For me, though, Scott’s original just about surpasses the sequel, by the finest of margins. Both are five star movies that almost demand the big screen experience. But Top Gun edges it by virtue of the face it came first. Here’s why…

First and foremost, the true measure of any film with lasting appeal is how it lands as a complete package: not just visually but emotionally too.

And for all the technical bravado and testosterone on display, there is a genuine sense of heart and tragedy underpinning Scott’s movie.

Tom Cruise’s brash young Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell is informed by the loss he feels for his Dad - also a pilot, albeit one with a dubious history. He takes risks. His partner and best friend, Goose (Anthony Edwards), says he often feels like he’s flying with a ghost.

But there’s also real genius in his flying - an unpredictability that regularly gives him the edge when it comes do or die, split second decision making.

Top Gun further leans into this tragedy three quarters of the way through the film when Goose is tragically killed in a flying accident.

It’s then that we come to fully realise both the brilliance of Edwards’ charismatic performance and how Goose served as much as a surrogate father as he did a best friend and wingman. When Maverick laments “I want him back”, you feel the sense of loss. We want him back too.

It marks a sobering up point for the film: a coming of age moment for Maverick, the point where the child becomes the man. But it’s a long journey back, assisted in parts by Maverick’s sympathetic (but equally tough) instructor (Tom Skerritt, brilliant at conveying equal parts empathy and authority), as well as Maverick’s love interest, Charlie (Kelly McGillis). It’s no coincidence that when she confronts Maverick in an airport departure lounge as he is preparing to quit, she signs off with “so long Pete Mitchell”, delivering a carefully worded reminder of what life would look (and sound) like should he walk away: no more Maverick.

From Cruise’s reaction, you can tell how it lands.

The themes of loss and father-son dynamics are maintained in Top Gun: Maverick, and are what help to make both films so engaging; transcending the more hung-go, ego-driven elements of what otherwise could have undermined its legacy. Quite simply put, we care about all of these characters.

For all of the star-making elements of Cruise’s larger than life performance, this is an ensemble piece. McGillis, for instance, exudes raw sex appeal (and adorned the walls of countless boys’ bedrooms), but she’s also more than capable of holding her own in a predominantly male world.

Edwards has a calmness and wisdom that he would later bring so successfully to his portrayal of Dr Mark Greene in ER, as well as an electrifying chemistry with Cruise. Their combined wooing of McGillis with the impromptu duet of ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeing’ is genuinely iconic. But so too are the quieter moments between them.

Skerritt, as mentioned, is a brilliantly realised mentor, never more so than when finally revealing the truth about Maverick’s father’s fate; while his “give me a call, I’ll be your wingman” show of support as Maverick graduates and deploys is a heart-stopper of a moment.

But there’s also Val Kilmer’s ruthlessly efficient Iceman, a near-perfect foil for Maverick’s volatility, as well as Meg Ryan, heart-breaking as Goose’s wife, and Michael Ironside’s sceptical fellow instructor Viper.

Everything about Top Gun works. It hits all the right notes perfectly. The soundtrack blasts are superbly realised and delivered right on cue for maximum effect (crucially, they don’t even sound too 80s), with Harold Faltemeyer’s iconic score one for the ages.

The flying sequences are genuinely exhilarating and awe-inspiring, whether during the expertly staged combat sequences against the Migs that book-end the film, or the training sequences that continue to combine the thrill and peril of combat.

Personalities also continue to develop within the cockpits, with some doozy lines: headrush moments include Maverick’s gritty delivery of “I want Viper” as he recklessly pursues another target to impress; while Skerritt’s “damn, this kid’s good” is another validation of Maverick’s brilliance.

Of course, there’s the “I feel the need, the need for speed” to savour each time it’s heard, while even dressing downs have an iconic element: “your ego is writing cheques your body can’t cash”.

Quentin Tarantino memorably attempted to distort the legacy of Top Gun by ridiculing its more homo-erotic inclinations, quite possibly with firm reference to the beach volleyball scene where tanned, muscled, glistening bodies hold sway to the refrains of Kenny Loggins’ Playing With The Boys (as well as some of the dick jokes). But this, for me, only adds to the charm; whether nodding to anything or merely cranking up the boys’ own appeal, Top Gun offers unashamedly feel-good entertainment to sweep you along on its jet-fuelled rollercoaster ride.

Perhaps this is never better exemplified than in one of the many head-spinning flight shots of a jet plane launching from the point of view of its wing tip, before rolling in the sky with the aircraft carrier in the background, - a dizzying, dazzling piece of bravado that leaves you cheering inside.

With its sustained mix of intimate emotion and awe-inspiring spectacle, Top Gun offers near perfect blockbuster entertainment that is essential big screen viewing. Forty years young, it still thrills as much as it did when you first saw it.

Certificate: 12A

Running time: 112mins