The Spirit of St. Louis (Billy Wilder, 1957)

The Spirit of St. Louis has got to be one of Wilder's least personal projects. He evinces little affection for the material resulting in a lumpy narrative. The awkward voice-overs and soliloquies (handled about as well as possible by the incomparable James Stewart) suggest that maybe the story resists dramatization. Still, shit my pants I did during Lindy's flight when it wasn't being interrupted with weak-minded flashbacks. P. S. It was a flop.