The Towering Inferno

I've never been a huge fan of disaster movies.  Sure, I get a kick out of big things going boom, but these movies are usually pretty dumb (2012, I'm looking at you) and cliche-ridden (that's you, Independence Day).  Thanks to those tendencies, I tend to only watch the newest disaster flicks; if I'm going to watch a special effects extravaganza with no story, I might as well see the cutting edge technology, right?  Well, I recently realized that I have completely omitted seeing any disaster movies from their prime in the 1970s, the "Decade of Disaster."  For the record, that's not an official nickname for the 70s, that's just what I like to call it for so very many reasons.  Anyway, I thought I'd give a classic disaster film a shot, and I opted for the Academy Award-winning one, The Towering Inferno.

The world's tallest building, the Glass Tower, is having its public dedication in scenic San Francisco.  The ribbon will be cut, and a few hundred people will head up to the 138th floor penthouse for a fancy party with tuxedos, slinky dresses, and (probably) cocktail shrimp.  During a routine systems check before the dedication, one of the electrical boxes on the 81st floor starts a small fire.  The sprinklers don't go off and the fire alarm doesn't sound, though.  For the dedication, they turn on every light in the building to show off just how tall and bright it can be; that turns out to be a bad idea with an electrical system that is already having problems, and things get worse from here on in.  Power malfunctions and skimping on building materials lead to the warning systems going off far too late, and pretty soon there is an inferno working its way up to the party on the 138th floor.

Aren't they a little too happy for a disaster flick?

In a movie like this, the spectacle and special effects are bigger stars than the cast.  And that is really saying something, because this cast is star-studded.  Paul Newman and Steve McQueen co-headline as the world's bravest architect and fireman, respectively.  While this isn't either actor's finest moment, they're both very likable and charismatic, so it's easy to ignore that their characters lack depth.  You can argue that McQueen's character is too preachy and bland, but he does make a pretty good hero.  On the flip side of things, William Holden is solid as the accidentally villainous cost- and appearance-conscious owner of the building; Richard Chamberlain was far less impressive as the corner-cutting businessman whose shoddy materials caused the fire --- I won't say that he's MWA-HA-HA evil, but the man should have had a mustache he could twirl.

The rest of the cast has much smaller and less important roles, but many of the actors are instantly recognizable.  Faye Dunaway is Newman's love interest, and the pair are pretty together.  O.J. Simpson is a security guard who saves a cat.  Fred Astaire plays an ineffective con man, earning a "you've been overlooked for your whole career, so here's acknowledgment for a far lesser role" Academy Award nomination.  Jennifer Jones made her last film appearance here, and it is fairly memorable, if only for her final scene.  Robert Wagner has a small role as the idiot who turned on all the lights, because the city of San Francisco is going to ooh and ahh over a building with electric lights like it's a 138-story Christmas tree.  Stupid.  Robert Vaughn, who I always seem to catch in roles where he plays a jerk, was surprisingly likable as a US Senator (the political kind, not the sports kind).  Mike "Bobby Brady" Lookinland has a small part as a Bobby Brady-age kid.  No, he doesn't die.  Oh, and you might recognize Susan Flannery as a soap opera actress.  Or not.

But, like I said earlier, the cast is largely inconsequential next to the spectacle of this fire.  Without CGI to enhance it, I was a little skeptical as to how good this disaster would look, but I needn't have worried.  They did this the old-fashioned way, through misdirection and real fire.  I thought the movie looked great, especially for one made forty years ago.  There is a lot of smoke, a lot of debris, and (of course) a lot of fire.  What I liked about this fire is that it was obviously dangerous from a very early point.  While the fire started at the thirteen-minute mark, it didn't kill anyone for another forty-five minutes; the characters that died were, surprisingly, not just some random scrubs, but a recognizable actor with a subplot in full swing.  So, the fire is apparent early in the film --- which is important in a movie that clocks in at over 160 minutes --- and deadly to characters that you expect to hang around a while.  That's awesome!  Fire is so rarely shown as dangerous in films (it's more of a cool backdrop most of the time) that this approach feels almost novel.  Pair the dangerousness of the fire with the old-school special effects that actually used fire (and lots and lots of smoke), and this is a pretty believable disaster.  And that's the whole point.

Check, please!

Does that mean that this is a marvel of modern filmmaking?  Not exactly.  I thought John Guillermin did a decent job directing the dramatic parts of the story; there are far too many characters for any of them to be compelling, but he keeps things interesting.  In an interesting move, Irwin Allen is given credit for directing the many action scenes in the film, and I thought these scenes were largely enjoyable...I'm not sure why he gets a directing credit, though.  Maybe they didn't have action choreographers in 1974.  Despite the pretty solid directing, the story is a little shallow and underdeveloped.  That's not shocking for a movie with such a large cast and a plot device that seems to kill cast members at random, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a problem.  With such shallow characters, some moments that are meant to add levity or warmth to the story fall short.  Why, for instance, is Jennifer Jones apparently happy to learn that Fred Astaire is a con man?  Accepting, or even mischievously knowing, I can buy...but she's pretty ecstatic.  And there's a pre-coitus moment between Faye Dunaway and Paul Newman where she tells him that he's "all protein."  Eww.  I understand that these are just snippets used to add the illusion of depth to these characters, but they're pretty odd moments for two of the deepest subplots in the film.

On a quick side note, am I the only person who finds it hard to believe that Maureen McGovern's song, "We May Never Love Like This Again" A) is the theme to a disaster movie B) was performed by her, in a scene, and yet we never see her character's ultimate fate and/or C) won an Academy Award?  Man, the seventies were a strange time.

On the other hand, I like when big things go boom.  While this isn't a flawless movie, it is pretty entertaining, despite a long run-time.  For the most part, I think the movie is surprisingly plausible (except for that stupid helicopter explosion), which is a nice change of pace for a disaster flick.  Newman was good, McQueen was above average, and the largely recognizable cast made for some unexpected fodder for the flames.  I would have liked it better if Newman and McQueen weren't such know-it-alls, but it is kind of nice to have a disaster with obviously culpable parties.

The Thomas Crown Affair (1968)

Who doesn't love a good heist movie?  It's one of the rare occasions where you are actually supposed to root for the bad guy.  The thieves are always charming and clever, and usually are irresistible to the opposite sex.  What's not to like?  Unfortunately, these generalizations only hold up when the movie's heist is clever.  When heist movies get too gritty or too plausible (I'm pretty sure even I can rob a bank as effectively as they did in Dog Day Afternoon), it is usually because the actual heist was done in a thuggish manner.  The Thomas Crown Affair is an odd movie because it aims for the whimsical charm of the best heist movies, but the heist itself is actually pretty boring.

The film begins with a series of split-screen shots of men in suits doing things at approximately the same time in about the same location.  One frame follows a man making a phone call at a pay phone, another frame follows another man as he walks to his designated spot, another frame follows a third man, etc.  The split-screens show five men (including Jack Weston and a young Yaphet Kotto) calling in to a central contact and eventually each man shows up at a bank.  They each do their part and rob the bank.  Sure, limiting the amount of knowledge each criminal had of the crime is smart from a planning perspective, but the heist itself is basically just a stickup.  When it is all over, the proceeds are left in a cemetery trash can, where they are picked up by the mastermind, Thomas Crown (Steve McQueen).  He goes home and laughs out loud.  I'm pretty sure that there is an entire script page devoted to him laughing to himself.  Of course, no crime goes uninvestigated.  Well, bank robberies don't, anyway.  There is a detective attached to the case, but he is inconsequential to this story.  Instead, Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway), an investigator for the bank's insurance company, is Crown's main antagonist.  Although "antagonist" is a strong term for a character that is essentially a love interest with an edge.  Crown is a wealthy businessman that has no need (well, little need) for the $2 million-plus that he helped steal.  He spends his time desperately seeking diversions, whether they are with polo ponies, dune buggies, glider planes, or beautiful women.  Vicki decides that he is the perfect candidate for masterminding a bank robbery through what I can only describe as a series of Jeff Goldblum-esque intuitive leaps.  She never second guesses herself and decides to meet Crown socially.  Despite the fact that Vicki openly admits to Crown that she is investigating him for the robbery, the two begin a passionate affair.  The bulk of the film centers on how they metaphorically circle and seduce each other, with the theft acting as the elephant in the room.  The two clearly care for each other, but Crown can never feel safe with Vicki, unless she gives him some sort of proof that she is not after the stolen money, since she get's a percentage of anything recovered.  All he needs is a plan...

Obviously, from this synopsis, The Thomas Crown Affair is not your typical heist movie.  The focus is on the tension between the two leads, playing characters that obviously cannot trust each other but are just as obviously attracted to each other.  It's an interesting concept for a film; rarely does a movie begin with such an elaborately shot sequence and have that event play a secondary role in the plot.  The tension is definitely present on-screen.  Dunaway and McQueen are attractive, charismatic actors at their physical peak, and director Norman Jewison spends a lot of time having the camera focus on their chemistry.

While the filmmaker's intent is clear, that does not mean that this movie succeeded in its goal.  In highlighting the sexual tension between the two leads, this film goes to sometimes ridiculous lengths.  One of the more famous scenes from this film is the scene where they play chess, using the chess pieces as sexual metaphors.  Not subtle metaphors, mind you.  To give you an example, there is a point where Dunaway is literally stroking the bishop.  I have a hard time believing that McQueen could have seen that and not giggled, just a little bit.  This scene gives way to a sequence of the two kissing heavily and...other leisure activities.  From a technical perspective, these scenes are very well done.  They are just a soundtrack change away from fitting in an Austin Powers movie, though.  We're talking some seriously heavy-handed stuff here.  I get it.  They're horny.  Let's move on, already.

The soundtrack is a bizarre product of the times.  There are extended periods that are absolutely silent, and these do a good job ratcheting up the tension.  But then the music kicks in.  I've never been a big fan of the Oscar-winning theme to this movie, "The Windmills of Your Mind," but it just feels grossly inappropriate whenever it pops up in this film.  The cadence is odd and the music does not match the tone of the rest of the score.  Yes, I'm sure it sounded better in the 60s, but that doesn't mean it has to feel anachronistic now.

The biggest problem I have with this film is the crime.  I was a little disappointed when I realized that the heist was not the focus of this film, but I got over that pretty quickly.  I find it a little difficult to sympathize with a character that organizes an armed bank robbery out of boredom, though.  Doesn't that kind of make him the anti-Batman?  The guy didn't even participate in the robbery, so the adrenaline rush excuse doesn't even work in this case.  Boo hoo, you're rich and bored.  Give me your money, or pay bums to fight, or torture tourists a la Hostel.  I don't care what you do, just don't demand my sympathy.  You know what happened when I complained to my parents about being bored?  I was given chores.  Suck it, Crown.

The thing that surprised me most about this movie was how completely unnecessary the split-screen theft scenes were.  I like artsy cinematography, but it needs to serve a purpose.  This just overcomplicated a fairly straightforward crime.  I think that is representative of the movie as a whole.  There is a lot of stylish cinematography and a lot of chemistry between Dunaway and McQueen, but it doesn't really serve a purpose.  With different lead actors, this movie would be a godawful mess of pretentious art without the acting chops to back it up.

Three Days of the Condor

Three Days of the Condor is a Robert Redford thriller based on the novel, Six Days of the Condor, by James Grady.  I'm assuming that the tag line for the film was "All the thrills of the book in half the time!"  The director was a frequent Redford collaborator, Sydney Pollack.  I'm  not a huge fan of Redford or Pollack, to be honest --- I'm sure they make good films, but they rarely pique my interest --- but this one is actually pretty solid.

This film has a sense of plausibility that rings true, and it feels like the flip side of Redford's Spy Game.  In that movie, Redford is the ultimate CIA insider, pulling strings and playing games to get things done; in Condor, Redford is a novice in the spy game, trying to figure out what the pros are doing.

The plot is relatively simple for a spy movie.  Redford works, in a non-spy capacity, for the CIA.  His job, and that of his entire department, is to read fiction and enter the relevant plots and codes into a computer, which compares the fictional data with actual CIA missions (planned or otherwise).  One day, while Redford is out getting lunch for the office, his entire department is assassinated.  Suitably alarmed, he contacts his superiors at the CIA to arrange for them to take him into protective custody.  This would make for a short movie, but it turns out that he is double crossed, and is almost killed at the pick up.  From that point on, Redford has to use his own knowledge of CIA plots to figure out why somebody wants him dead.  Like I said, it's not a terribly complicated plot.  In fact, there is a part where Redford has been up all night trying to puzzle out his situation and the camera shows the paper he has been writing on; the paper had maybe four things on it.  Whoa, there, Robert!  Don't get caught up in the details!

With a plot that sparse, the actors must carry a heavier load.  Here, Redford does a fine job as a man out of his element, but clever enough to know what to do and how to counter some basic spy techniques.  Faye Dunaway plays a random woman that Redford forces to help him, and her character's emotional arc is pretty natural. Still, I think being kidnapped, more or less, by someone who looks like Robert Redford made her character's compliance a little more believable.  Somehow I doubt that John Cazale would have had such an easy time telling a beautiful woman "I'm not going to hurt you, I just need some place to rest."  Well, he could say that, but he wake up in prison.  Max von Sydow does a very good job playing an assassin-for-hire.  His second scene with Redford was both charming and disconcerting at the same time.  Unfortunately, he only shares the screen with Redford twice; the rest of his scenes show significantly less depth and character.  Cliff Robertson (Uncle Ben in the Spider-Man movies) is Redford's CIA contact; his everyman looks may lend credibility to the role, but I felt that his acting was mediocre.  Not good, not bad, but maybe just a little above Charles Bronson.

Overall, the lack of a convoluted plot was refreshing to see in a spy movie.  Redford and Dunaway did their jobs well, and von Sydow turned in one of his better performances here.