There aren’t enough scripted, feature-length biopics with aeronautical engineers as their central characters. Although I wish this was insight I could claim I had made out of the blue based on my vast, Mankiewiczian knowledge of the subject, it only occurred to me after the fact during yet another late night of insomnia-fueled Netflix surfing.

Rather, my blinding flash of the obvious was after personally discovering The Wind Rises (風立ちぬ),1 legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki’s 2013 feature-length film based on the life of Jiro Horikoshi. A legend in his own right, Horikoshi was likely most famous for designing the Mitsubishi A6M Zero, amongst many other aeronautical accomplishments.

Up until watching this utterly charming film, I never understood younger generations’ fascination with Japanese animé. The spooky big eyes and the bright colours were, candidly, just a little more than disturbing to my crude sensibilities. However, after watching The Wind Rises, I much better understand what gets people so excited.

It's absolutely gorgeous.

Every shot is exquisitely composed with many frames suitable for, well, framing. I would hang them on my wall, at least. Miyazaki uses depth of field as part of the storytelling process, as well as the multi-layer, nearly three-dimensional setups that make the movie go by in a flash and leave the viewer wanting more in a is it over already? kind of way. The ability to freeze frame and inch forward and backward through the film is one of the real benefits of Netflix, particularly when re-watching it on a computer as I did while writing this. There is just so much going on in the images as well as Spielberg-level attention to detail.

Watching the film in English is yet another benefit of the pricey Netflix subscription. I tried watching it in Japanese with English subtitles — I have always loved the cadence of spoken Japanese even though I don’t understand a word of it — but, alas, I was so taken with the visuals looking away to read the dialogue was a distraction I could live without. But to the filmmaker’s credit, the Hollywood A-list voices2 they cast for the English soundtrack are perfect and bring a weighty emotional depth to their parts. Mr. Kurokawa, Jiro’s boss at Mitsubushi Internal Combustion Engine Company voiced by Martin Short, was a particular favourite of mine. I found myself laughing out loud, and sometimes getting a little teary-eyed, at his antics.

However, the unmitigated star of the show, at least for us avgeeks, is Miyazaki’s fanatical commitment to authenticity. Over the course of the all-too-short, over-two-hour film, the animator manages to artfully include (better buckle up):

Caproni's Ca.3, Ca.48, Ca.60, Ca.73, and Ca.90; Junkers' F 13, G 23, and G 38; Mitsubishi's 1MF2, A5M concept, A5M prototype, A6M Zero, Army Type Ki 1 Trainer, B1M3, Experimental 7-Shi, G1M1, G3M, Ki-1, Ki-20, and Navy Type 93; Nakajima's A1N1, G8N, and Ki-43, not to mention Polikarpov I-15 and Tupolev's TB-1. There's even Boeing B-29 Superfortress included in a thoughtful handling of their ominous omnipresence in Japanese skies in the latter stages of World War II.3

These are not the coarse, cartoon-like sketches of a dilettante. Rather, they are seemingly precision renderings with an accuracy and attention to detail that is truly startling, and a joy to behold. All acccomplished with artful storytelling such that they don't bog down the story for a less aviation-inclined audience.

If that isn’t enough to get you running the nearest Blockbuster for a copy, there is even an appearance by Count Gianni Caproni, complete with an over-the-top Italian accent, who is a central character in Miyazaki's dreamscape storytelling. There’s also a cameo by Dr. Hugo Junkers, with a German accent, also over-the-top. There’s even a bit of model aviation, a glider no less, slipped in. The combination of all of these factors convinces me Miyazaki is truly one of us: an avgeek, to the core.

There is simply no element of this film I don’t absolutely love. The soundtrack music is sumptuous and beautifully cinematic, for example. Another is when one the aforementioned aircraft fires up. Listen really carefully: the sound is comprised almost entirely of humans making engine sounds of one or another. No real engines were injured in the making of this film.

Okay, that’s enough. Do yourself a favour this Christmas and when the family gather ’round after what I hope is a wonderful day and delightfully extravegant holiday feast, put on The Wind Rises. It's suitable for all ages, persuasions and attention spans.

If you do, while they may still be a few dry eyes in the house, I am certain there won’t be a closed one.

The modern press release came into being in 1906 when public relations pioneer Ivy Lee4 authored and distributed a sober set of facts on behalf of the Pennsylvania Railroad. It was regarding an incident that occurred within their system on October 28 of that year, eventually known as the Atlantic City train wreck. Ivy’s prose was considered sufficiently veracious that the New York Times published them in their entirety on October 30.

Think of it this way: if link sharing had existed back then, Ivy would have shared the one for his freshly minted press release with the Times. The Times’ editors, presumably after having read the material and considered its source, would have simply re-shared it with their readership prefaced with only the most essential commentary.5 It might have even gone viral, except that virality in those days was the kind often accompanied by the grim reaper.

The debate over whether Ivy’s prose should have been fact-checked, or not, might well of begun on October 31 of that same year. Appropriately, Hallowe’en. In any event, even if that's not when it started, it continues to this day and will likely do so well into the forseeable future.

I know this because, from time to time, I'm asked whether it is responsible journalism, primarily regarding Story-of-the-Day programming,6 to simply pass along the links for the press releases of the organisations releasing them. Bear in mind, when I say asked, I'm being charitable. More accurately, it's asked rhetorically, seemingly to cast aspersions on the practice, at least to my ear.

I simply don’t believe cutting and pasting some or all of the press release text into a branded article, fiddling with the wording a little, and firing it out under a slightly revised title is actually journalism at all. Besides, anybody with even a garden-variety knowledge of Google search hacks will be able to track down the original document from its source. With that, the jig will officially be up. So why bother?

White-labelling copy in this manner misrepresents the material. For readers who may not be hip to the time- and effort-saving practice — sometimes derisively referred to as churnalism7 — that unwary audience might think the facts and figures contained therein have been checked out and verified against independent sources, as good journalism demands.

I make no such claims because BluFly is not a hard news organisation. In fact, not much of a news organisation at all. After all, in our jet fuel-scented, ITO-tinted world of things that fly and made by humans, nothing ever crashes, there's no impact on the environment, and air crews are paid what they're worth as opposed to what the merciless market will bear. We at the home office are rabid fans and make no claim otherwise. Aviation in all its forms is nothing less than a constant source of awe and amazement for us. Full stop.

By linking the source of news directly, as BluFly routinely does, it's the most accurate framing of the facts presented by wherever that links takes the reader. From the releaser’s lips to the readers’ ears, whatever is said in the linked press release is solely the responsibility of said releaser.

To that end, there are two ways you know exactly where you are going when you click one of these shared links, at least as they are presented here on BluFly. They're highlighted with these arrows superimposed on some recent posts:

If you don’t like the cut of the jib of the organisation to which you’re prospectively being sent with the link, you’re free to not click on the link. That is, before you actually do.

For the record, there are some scallywags out there for which I wouldn’t pass along one of their announcements if my life depended on it. They shall remain nameless, of course. Suffice it to say I’m sufficiently unconvinced by their story that I’m not willing to help them propagate the biggest scam perpetrated on the American public since One-Hour Martinizing as Kramer famously put it in an early episode of Seinfeld.

As my dear old Mum used to say, if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all. So I don't.

Myboyhood family had the truly great honour of having Roy Stokes in our lives. He was the head of the University of British Columbia's Library School from 1970 through 1982, which followed a similar tenure at the School of Librarianship at Loughborough Technical College in the United Kingdom.8 My father first met Roy at UBC’s Faculty Club, reciprocal dinner invitations were forthwith exchanged, and our respective families became lifelong friends thereafter.

What made Roy special and unique was his deep, learned knowledge of so many things in so many domains. Sir Francis Bacon was not the last man to know everything as is sometimes mythologised. It was Roy.

One of my fondest Christmas memories was his tradition of carefully selecting a book — one for each of my parents, one for each of my two siblings and one for me — reflective of our individual passions and interests. Of course, in my case, it was always something about flying. All of his selections were spot-on and were clearly the result of much thought and careful consideration. While Roy was giving us each a book, he was actually giving us his time, which I have come to understand was incalculably more valuable.

Although I can’t say for sure that the following titles were precisely a part of that tradition, they are certainly reflective of its spirit. Therefore, without further ado and named in his honour, the first annual Roy Bishop Stokes Aviation Book Christmas List (click/tap for more info on each):

Perhaps you, too, were fortunate enough to have a Roy Stokes in your life; someone who had or has a supernatural capacity for sensing your aviation interests and picking out exactly the right volume for your Christmas reading. If so, why not pass along their recommendation and we'll be happy to pass it along either now or in a future iteration of the RBSABCL. 🛩️

Is there anything else aviation-related on your mind you would like to share? I'd love to hear from you.9 Until then, thank you so much for reading and also for engaging with BluFly’s posts on Bluesky and LinkedIn.10 Otherwise, regardless of pricisely how you celebrate the upcoming holiday season — that would be Christmas in my household, but your mileage may vary — I wish each and every one of you the very best of health, happiness and prosperity.

Until we meet again next month and as always, fair winds and blue skies.

Terence C. Gannon
Managing Editor

This is what we managed to put together for you for December, with most recent at the top:

Note that the embedded posts above are from the Bluesky 🛩️ Custom Feed11 which is the reference feed for BluFly.