It could be said that if Qantas were an aeroplane rather than an airline, today it would be screaming towards earth in a steep dive with smoke pouring from at least two of the engines. The passengers, who look awfully like shareholders, with their strained white faces, would be hanging on for dear life and praying for a happy outcomes. The crew, Qantas staff one and all, would be buckling up their seatbelts for a bumpy ride and providing the professional expertise for which they have become known. The plane's owners, fat cats in suits and looking rather like Qantas board members, would have taken the only golden parachutes and bailed out, already calculating the insurance payout on the plane and its occupants when it finally crashed. (Naturally, they would not even think that it was their profit-seeking cost-cutting that caused the engines to fail in the first place.)
And that leaves the pilot battling at the controls, the only one who can pull off the miracle and help the plane survive its terrifying dive. Straining at the joystick, face set, he looks a lot like Alan Joyce.