From the murkiest waters of
aviation history come this two strange jewels. They bear the dubious merit of
being obsolete as soon as they reached service. You know, French people. They
gave us May '68, the French kiss, Vichyssoise, Brigitte Bardot, Juliette Binoche
-oops, I'm giving up my age here-, fashion, cuisine, and so many other good
things that we can overlook their design inclinations. A strange mix of naivite
and grandeur seems to characterize their approach to flight.
Both formerly Heller molds, now justly redeemed from darkness by Smer, in
a nice package with propagteam decals. In my Amiot 143 a few decals shattered in
pieces and the color density wasn't that good. The sprues are neatly packed
separately. Of course, some flash has to be worked out, but no big deal.
The more I build models of planes from the 20's and 30's, the more I fall
under the spell of their design charm. Being the lines absolutely beautiful or
expressing some alternative thinking in a not so gracious way, the results are
for me always attractive, mysterious. What were they trying to accomplish? For
me, they are like sculptures.
Now, regarding the models, If you think about the Handley-Page Hampden as
a flying pan, wait until you see the Amiot 143. It is so narrow that could only
be manned by characters from the Egyptian murals, sideways. It is so narrow that
there was no space for your shadow. It is so narrow that there was no plumbing,
all controls were driven by ribbons. In spite of that, as I looked at
references, I could guess from the number of windows and stations that the crew
enjoyed many amenities: possibly cinema, coffee station, smoking lounge, a
kitchen to prepare French toast and champignon omelettes, a wine cellar and so
on.
The model boasts the emptiest interior I have ever seen in my long life
as a modeler. Zero. Nada.
Not even a seat. Not even a mutant pilot siting on a rod. And what is inside the
engine cowls?: the same nothingness. A sort of shield disguises that,
though.
So, my friends, we can safely arrive to the conclusion that, besides of
how strange this French plane looks, the manufacturer represented it as a
machine that can fly without engines, without instruments and crew and,
therefore, without casualties in case of being brought down.
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The Potez 540 is
another deal. The count of parts is higher and more finesse is clear here from
the beginning. It has an interior, the surface detail is restrained and
pleasant, although the wings exhibit some pronounced ribbing. but that can be
corrected if you so wish. This one is a fine kit, and portraits the best of
Heller, with a few limitations, that, by the way, don't bother me at all. Heller
models allowed me, many times, to produce very appealing replicas of subjects
well away of the trodden path.
Both models seem to have clearer transparencies than the original
releases, probably thanks to Smer, and the price is more than fair. The molds
held well the pass of time and with little effort you can look at a model of a
plane that will uncover for you a hidden piece of history, and will open your
mind to new landscapes, both aesthetically and design-wise.
I started with the Amiot
by looking at some references in order to get a sense of the interior, with no
luck there; so I faked a somewhat credible one with a mix of plastic card and
parts for the bottomless spares bin, that includes the lower compartment and the
cockpit. No color details are given in the instructions, so I cross-referenced
with the Potez 540, which in its Heller incarnation had a sand interior color.
Some transparencies were difficult to remove from the sprue without
damage. As they are large, I couldn't escape to glue them before closing the
fuselage, which means that you have to be careful all the way to the finish. I
rescribed some of the -raised- panel lines and lightly sanded the prominent
rivets. The elevators were scored and repositioned. The landing lights recesses
were carved (they are solid as provided) with the wishful thinking of latter
adding some detail there. I noticed in several photos that the machine guns were
removed, which I liked, and bombs were not present either, and so I proceeded. I
got a couple of engines to throw into the nacelles, and modified a little the
piece that covers them at the front. A sort of platform molded in the front
fuselage that holds the nose turret was removed, since the actual plane didn't
have it. in the lower-aft position the supports for the machine gun
-incorporated into the transparencies- were deleted with the Dremmel tool,
and clarity restored as much as possible.
I couldn't verify in photos the presence of a reinforcement flange that runs
along the spine of the upper and lower fuselage, but I left it there.
Don't get me wrong, all the preceding was not super-detailing at
all, or a real effort to obtain accuracy, just a little work to improve things a
tad.
Oh, all those turrets and their exuberant, faint framing. What a delight.
Is it modeling an ecclesiastic career?
Acrylics were the choice when brandishing the airbrush.
Doesn't it look like a cross between a mansard and an heraldic creature?
Now let's go for that Potez
540.
Gabriel
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