THE ROCKETEER. This is the First Real Avenger

For nearly two decades, there has been a renaissance of comic book-based superhero cinema. The turning point appears to be the release of the first X-Men film by Bryan Singer in the millennial year of 2000. This film, built on a solid script with strong social undertones, featuring an excellent cast and impressive special effects, may have paved the way for subsequent successful adaptations: Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man, the groundbreaking The Dark Knight (which led to these types of films being considered in a much more serious light), and the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe, populated by characters like Iron Man, Hulk, and Captain America. As a result, superhero films and comic book adaptations have become a staple of cinema, enjoying unwavering—if not growing—popularity. Even those with minimal interest in film are likely aware of the upcoming releases planned by DC Comics and Marvel Studios, which serves as proof of their dominance.

However, not so long ago, in the second half of the 1980s, the situation was entirely different. Before Tim Burton’s Batman, studios were reluctant to invest large budgets in superhero spectacles. Instead, action comedies like Beverly Hills Cop and sci-fi and fantasy films—such as Ghostbusters, the Indiana Jones series, and Back to the Future—were reigning supreme. Interestingly, the comic book publishing industry was thriving in terms of content quality. During this period, Frank Miller gave Batman psychological depth and a compelling historical background in Batman: Year One, while the duo of Dave Gibbons and Alan Moore turned the superhero genre on its head with the revolutionary Watchmen.

Around the same time, The Rocketeer enjoyed significant popularity. Created by Dave Stevens, the character paid homage to the adventure serials of the 1930s and 1940s, drawing clear inspiration from Flash Gordon and Captain America. The hero soared through the skies using a specialized rocket engine attached to his suit and fought Nazi spies in the United States. Soon after, producer Steve Miner acquired the film rights to the comic and, along with screenwriters Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo, began working on an adaptation. Initially, they envisioned The Rocketeer as an independent, low-budget film, but no studio was interested in financing such a project.

Then came Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Batman, and Dick Tracy. The overwhelmingly positive reception from critics, audience approval, and the massive revenue generated from ticket sales, toys, and merchandise convinced Walt Disney Studios to greenlight the production of The Rocketeer. Joe Johnston was brought on as director—having previously worked in the art department on Star Wars—and a strong team was assembled, including renowned editor Arthur Schmidt and composer James Horner. The comic’s creator, Dave Stevens, was involved in the project from the start, but he disagreed with many of the filmmakers’ decisions. In retrospect, he may have been right. While The Rocketeer remains visually appealing even nearly thirty years after its release, it has been relegated to the dusty shelves of forgotten films. But does it deserve that fate?

Probably not. The film had great potential but failed to succeed even enough to warrant a sequel. One of the reasons for this might be that the production focused too much on the “rocket” and not enough on the “man.” The biggest issue, unfortunately, was the casting choice for the lead role. The filmmakers reportedly scoured numerous talent agencies searching for the perfect candidate and ultimately chose the then-unknown Billy Campbell, who physically resembled the comic book character. While his effort to bring the role to life is evident, it ultimately falls flat. His character is overshadowed by the supporting cast, including Alan Arkin, a young and stunning Jennifer Connelly, and, in smaller but memorable roles, Paul Sorvino and the impeccable Timothy Dalton. The latter, fresh off his tenure as James Bond, plays a suave and charismatic villain, stealing every scene he’s in. While none of the characters are particularly deep or brilliantly written, they serve their purpose for an old-fashioned adventure. However, this dynamic leaves the protagonist struggling to make an impact. Campbell is unable to dominate scenes alongside Arkin’s mentor-mechanic or Dalton’s flamboyant antagonist. It seems that Disney and the producers were aiming for a charismatic hero to anchor a franchise (akin to Indiana Jones), with subsequent installments showcasing thrilling adventures, romance, and daring aerial feats. But after the film’s financial failure, those plans were scrapped.

The screenplay also suffers from pacing issues—front-loading too much complexity at the expense of a smooth transition into the main adventure and climax. By the time the story gains momentum, much of the film has already passed. This is a common pitfall in productions heavily micromanaged by studios, where executives, underestimating the audience’s intelligence, insist on adding excessive exposition. The film’s message is simple, best summed up by a line from Paul Sorvino’s gangster character: when informed that his boss is actually a Nazi spy, he declares, “I may be a crook, but I’m an American.” Whether this is a cliché or a clever subversion of one is debatable, but within this story, it simply works.

It’s impossible not to appreciate the film’s charming, comic book-inspired aesthetic. The 1930s provide a visually rich backdrop for cinematic storytelling. The movie was shot using lighting techniques typical of the era, giving the sets and props a polished, studio-artificial feel. The production design, costumes, and of course, the titular hero’s suit, are all visually delightful. The vintage atmosphere makes even the somewhat outdated special effects and editing choices more forgivable—one could simply say, “That’s the way it was meant to be.” Industrial Light & Magic has had both better and worse moments in its history, but there’s nothing to criticize when it comes to the pacing and execution of the action sequences. The film’s editor, Arthur Schmidt, was a two-time Oscar winner for Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Forrest Gump, which speaks to the film’s technical quality. Disney reported a budget of $35 million—exactly half of what Spielberg’s Hook cost in the same year—yet The Rocketeer arguably exhibits more style and creativity as a whole.

Ultimately, The Rocketeer is a charming, enjoyable film that lacked a flesh-and-blood hero and an actor capable of capturing the audience’s hearts.

The film serves as a precursor to Johnston’s later Captain America: The First Avenger. But one can’t help but wonder: if a few key elements had been different, The Rocketeer might not have just foreshadowed later successes—it could have been the start of a stellar franchise and a prime example of a great comic book adaptation, at a time when the Marvel universe consisted only of animated Spider-Man and X-Men series.