THE TOWERING INFERNO 1974 lecinemadreams.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-towering-inferno-1974.html
"Did you leave a cigarette burning?" Here in L.A., one of our tallest downtown skyscrapers has an attraction which allows visitors to ride a slide from from its 70 th to 69th floor: an enclosed, completely clear glass slide attached to the outside of the building. In other words, one has to pay for the privilege of crapping one’s pants 1,000 feet in the air. But back in the ‘70s those of us in search of less first-hand high-rise thrills were happy to content ourselves with The Towering Inferno: producer Irwin Allen’s $14 million follow-up to his wildly successful The Poseidon Adventure (1972). It was 1974 and the disaster film craze was in full swing. October saw the release of Airport ’75 (“The stewardess is flying the plane!”); Earthquake (“In Sensurround!”) followed in November, and December brought The Towering Inferno.
Everything about The Towering Inferno was a one-upsmanship of the standard disaster film. It was adapted from not one but two novels (The Tower by Richard Martin Stern & The Glass Inferno by Thomas N. Scortia and Frank M. Robinson); boasted two directors (John Guillermin for the acting, Irwin Allen for the action); and was so massive an undertaking it brought about the historic collaboration between Warner Bros. and 20th Century-Fox (preventing a replay of the "Dueling Harlows" situation of 1965 when competing studios raced to release two films about actress Jean Harlow at the same time). The Towering Inferno was Hollywood's heavily 1/14
hyped holiday season release, promising to be the ultimate “Big, Bigger, Biggest!” cherry atop the disaster film catastrophe cake. And, as it turns out, The Towering Inferno—garnering eight Academy Award nominations and one of the highest-grossing films of the year—did indeed come to represent the genre at its peak. Its sheer scope, star-wattage, and pull-out-the-stops excesses signifying perhaps the most to which the genre could ever reasonably aspire. Its ambitious scale and overall professional (albeit, old-fashioned) competency standing as something of a bellwether for the genre’s eventual decline into oversaturation, mediocrity, and unintentional self-parody.
"It's out of control and it's coming your way!" Truer words were never spoken. On the evening of the gala dedication ceremony for The Glass Tower—San Francisco’s newest skyscraper and the tallest building in the world—an electrical fire breaks out in a utility room (Building developer: "You’re not familiar with the many modern safety systems we have designed into this building”); faster than you can say “Titanic,” all hell breaks loose…literally. To quote the film’s ad copy “One tiny spark becomes a night of blazing suspense” as 300 well-heeled revelers in highly flammable ‘70s synthetics become trapped on the building’s top floor with nothing but Maureen McGovern for entertainment, and ever-diminishing options for escape and rescue. What to do? What to do?
Panic at the Disco
Well, what The Towering Inferno does (and very well, thank you) is to let this open-flame potboiler play out in a manner not dissimilar to that of an old Busby Berkeley musical. The tried-and-true pattern for those films was to introduce the players, hastily establish their superficial-to-inconsequential interrelationships and conflicts, then pretty much spend the rest 2/14
of the movie interspersing the formulaic narrative complications and resolutions between musical numbers of intensifying extravagance and excess. A little plot, a musical number; a little more plot, a slightly bigger musical number, etc.; …all leading to a big, splashy finale featuring lots and lots of people until, finally, all ends well with a romantic clinch at fade-out. The Towering Inferno follows this pattern pretty closely…only with explosions, falls from great heights, and gruesome, fiery deaths taking the place of production numbers. The result is a disaster film clocking in at over 2 ½ hours that, while occasionally getting bogged down in technical dialog and repetition (sometimes it feels as though we we are shown all 138 stories of stair-climbing footage), moves at a surprisingly brisk and exciting pace.
Since the title already clues us in that the building is going to go up like a matchstick, the film doesn’t waste any time trying to build false suspense by pretending to be about anything else. We’re introduced to the setting, The Glass Tower: a near-literal imposing erection jutting phallically from the testicular San Francisco hills. A building whose façade is shimmering gold and whose interior is an eye-strain symphony of ‘70s game-show orange. Residents occupy the floors above the 81st , lower floors are devoted to commercial tenants (including the building’s developer, Duncan Enterprises—they of the Starship Enterprise interior design and bedroom-equipped executive offices). With the “where” established, The Towering Inferno moves on to introducing the “who” by means of cinema shorthand: aka clichés.
Paul Newman as Doug Roberts - "The Architect"
First, we get the hero architect (Newman). We know he’s the hero because while everyone else wears suits and ties, he’s the lone maverick in orange and suede. Cut from the same iconoclastic mold as those confrontational individualists in the Winston cigarette ads of the day (“I don’t smoke to be like everybody else,” was typical ad copy)Newman is a sun-bronzed Thoreau ready to say goodbye to his lucrative career so he can live the simple life in 3/14
Mendocino County and “Sleep like a winner.”
Faye Dunaway as Susan Franklin "The Girlfriend"
The curvy speedbump preventing Newman from beating as hasty a retreat to the good life as he’d like, is magazine editor Faye Dunaway. The movie poster identifies her as “the girlfriend” and that’s precisely the breadth, scope, and function of her role in the film. Randy Paul Newman wants to runaway with Dunaway to a place where their hypothetical children “…can run around and grow and be free,” but post-afternoon delight, career-minded Dunaway informs him that she's just been offered a much longed-for promotion (“That’s nice…,” is his invalidating response). Newman wants her to be with him (and do what? we ask ourselves) but Dunaway, perhaps anticipating what lie in store for her in Network, is not keen to give her executive promotion the kiss-off so soon. Guess which one of the two isn’t placed in the position of having to make a decision?
William Holden as James Duncan "The Builder"
The tempter to Newman’s antagonist is boss William Holden. He tries to persuade Newman to stay so they together can build bigger and better firetraps—I mean, skyscrapers…all over the world. Holden is a man of questionable integrity who has dollar signs in his eyes. Something we can all observe for ourselves thanks to his ginormous eyeglasses.
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Steve McQueen as Michael O'Hallorhan "The Fire Chief"
Once things start to heat up, good guy fireman Steve McQueen arrives on the scene as the film’s moral mentor. His duty is to deliver common-sense, life-saving fire safety advice, and the occasional big prick to Newman’s vulnerable, exposed, quivering conscience.
Richard Chamberlain as Roger Simmons "The Son-In-Law"
The villain of the piece is electrical contractor Richard Chamberlain. The big bad guy tipoff being that within minutes of his entrance he’s given a Neely O’Hara-ish speech about not needing God or anybody else's help, and how he didn’t get through life on a pass because of his good cheekbones and damn classy looks (although in truth, Chamberlain’s snare-drumtight face has been pulled so taut, his cheekbones genuinely look in danger of cutting straight through the flesh). Chamberlain’s character is written as such an unrelentingly rotten ol’ meanie, at any moment one expects him to materialize in a cape and top hat, twirling a mustache.
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Susan Blakely as Patty Simmons "The Wife"
To make him seem even meaner, Chamberlain is given a Good Woman (Susan Blakely); an unaccountably loyal spouse given to hurt looks, aqueous glances, and a knack for saying precisely the wrong thing at the wrong time. That she also happens to be the boss’s daughter adds a backstory of guile and purpose-fucking to Chamberlain’s already slimy resume. Now we come to the supporting characters. The ones who exist primarily to drum up additional human-interest, boost the potential body count, and attract the ancillary demographics necessary to make a movie this costly into a hit.
O.J. Simpson as Jernigan "The Murderer" oops! I mean "The Security Man"
For ethnic appeal and to draw the athletic supporters, there’s football player, would-be Hertz pitchman, and future felon O.J. Simpson as the tower’s chief of security. On the plus side, at least he’s not one of those noble, first-to-die African-American characters Hollywood holds so dear. On the minus, the man gives a performance of kindling-level woodenness.
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Jennifer Jones as Lisolette Mueller "The Widow" Fred Astaire as Harlee Claiborne "The Con Man"
For the classic Hollywood fans, we have Golden Years love interests Fred Astaire and Jennifer Jones as an adorable, twinkly-wrinkly couple combining the charming chicanery of Airport’s Ada Quonset (Helen Hayes) and the selfless sympathy factor of The Poseidon Adventure’s Belle Rosen (Shelley Winters).
Robert Wagner as Dan Bigelow "The Publicity Man" Susan Flannery as Lorrie "The Secretary"
And what would a disaster film be without a dose of sex=death guilt retribution? Overemployed non-entity Robert Wagner plays an executive who goes to great (read: fatal) pains to conceal the far from earth shattering fact that he's boffing his secretary (Days of Our Lives star Susan Flannery). What's with all the secrecy? Neither wears a wedding ring, it's the sexual revolution '70s, and Wagner's company obliges by outfitting his office with a big ol' bedroom, one would think they'd simply put the overtime on their time cards.
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Rounding out the The Towering Inferno's parade of potentially soon-to-be-incinerated stars is the equally-innocuous Robert Vaughn (far right) as a senator, and, balancing a tower of her own, Irwin Allen’s paramour of 14-years (and soon to be Mrs. Allen) Sheila Mathews as the mayor’s way-too-many-close-ups-for-the-size-of-her-role wife.
Did I mention there are also children and a cat? Yes, children and animals are as inevitable in disaster movies as Oscar-bait theme songs (this film’s “We May Never Love Like This Again” actually hooked the prize). As the pet in need of rescue we have Elke the cat, and as what appear to be the only children in the entire building, there's Bobby Brady (Mike Lookinland) and a little girl who has trouble not looking into the camera lens (Carlena Gower). (But I must say I owe a debt of thanks to the latter. Had Jennifer Jones not been obliged to hoist that kid around on her hip in take after take, the late Miss Jones wouldn’t have developed the enduring lower back problems that necessitated her seeking out my services as a personal trainer in the '90s. Her back ultimately improved, and I got to know one of my favorite stars. So…thanks, kid!)
Once the cast and conflicts are assembled—honorable mention going to the two buddy cops and Carlos, the bartender who never takes a break (Sanford & Sons' Gregory Sierra)—it’s just 8/14
a matter of rolling out the catastrophes and conflagrations. Something The Towering Inferno manages rather spectacularly and as regularly as clockwork. The bulk of The Towering Inferno is comprised of variations on the following: 1. Hey! There’s a fire! 2. Deny, deny, deny. 3. Get those people outta there! 4. No, not that way! 5. Boom! 6. Is it me, or is it really hot in here? 7. Climb, climb, climb! 8. Whoops! There goes the stairwell/elevator/helicopter/breeches buoy. 9. Faye Dunaway consoling terrified guests by making sure their heads are turned well away from the terrifying gaze of the camera.
"There, there...I won't let that nasty old cameraman get at you."
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM “For those who like that sort of thing, that is the sort of thing they like.” The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie Amended: If you like disaster movies, The Towering Inferno is one of the best examples of the genre you're likely to find. Thank you, Miss Brodie. If asked to pick the disaster move I get the biggest kick out of, The Poseidon Adventure gets my vote for pure entertainment and camp value—it's like the Valley of the Dolls of disaster films. But when it comes to genuine drama, breathtaking stunts, spectacular effects, and the kind of larger-than-life scale that makes you feel like a kid oohing and ahhing over the sheer magnitude of the undertaking; The Towering Inferno really delivers the goods. Seeing it now, it's a good deal talkier, tin-eared, and over-infatuated with the detailed minutiae of firefighting than I remember; but its clear-cut objective is so simple there's almost a purity to it. It simply wants to be the one of the biggest, most exciting, star-studded, thrill-a-minute adventure spectacles ever committed to film. And it succeeds!
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THE STUFF OF DREAMS In the cynical, serious, often dark, frequently downright bizarre atmosphere of New Hollywood '70s cinema, you have no idea what a breath of fresh air these mindless disaster movies were. They were Hollywood at its most formulaic and old-fashioned, and that's exactly what I loved about them. Being a San Francisco kid (teen, actually), I was especially excited about the release of The Towering Inferno because news of its production came out about a year after the completion of the controversial Transamerica Pyramid, then, at 48-stories, the tallest building in the city. The San Francisco skyline was changing—The Embarcadero also had a 45-story high-rise and more on the way—and there was great concern as to the soundness of so many tall buildings in a city as earthquake-prone as S.F. (I remember a local radio station promoted itself with the slogan "The city that waits to die listens to...." Yikes! That always bothered the hell out of me).
Like a great many films that achieve success by striking just the right chord of anxiety at the right time, The Towering Inferno had the feel of immediacy about it. A feeling I latched onto and ran with. I was so taken with this movie I made a point of making sure I’d read BOTH novels before the film came out; I tacked up homemade posters promoting the film on the bulletin board in my high school's library; I bought every movie magazine that had even the smallest article or photo about it: and when I walked home from school I always went the route that took me by the movie theater with the advance posters and lobby cards on display. The Towering Inferno had its West Coast premiere at San Francisco's Alexandria Theater, and a friend and I desperately wanted to go to gawk from the sidelines (Lights! Music! Stars! Celebrities! Television! Radio!), but that idea was nixed because it was a school night. I eventually saw The Towering Inferno during its opening weekend and was absolutely floored. Even then there was no mistaking it for a great film or anything, but it was one of those eye10/14
popping "event" movie experiences I'll always remember. I saw the film at least four times over that Christmas holiday, and for many years after I kept the souvenir program I'd purchased at the first screening. PERFORMANCES When people get prickly over criticism of their favorite disaster movies, a typical defense is that no one goes to these movies to see great acting. Well, that's not altogether true. You may not go expecting Sarah Bernhardt-level emoting, but you do rely on a certain level of competent credibility in the acting to better draw you into the narrative. In the same way that believable stunts and convincing special effects enhance a film's thrill factor, actors who are able to make sketchilydrawn characters seem real enough to care about are an invaluable asset. If cinematreasures.org you don't think so, take a look at Irwin Allen's The Swarm sometime.
For my money, Faye Dunaway stands out as the most overqualified for her role, Steve McQueen the most compelling, and Paul Newman just a pleasure to look at...period. But by and large I think everyone in the film acquits themselves nicely, with Academy Awardnominated Fred Astaire being a sentimental favorite.
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THE STUFF OF FANTASY As big a fan of the genre as I was in the '70s, disaster movies hold a curious place for me now. When I'm not enjoying them purely for their camp and/or nostalgia value, I'm struck by how quickly they went from being entertaining action/adventure films to being these somewhat morbid "body count" spectacles. Latter films in the played-out genre seemed to exist solely to showcase how a significant number of people could be dispatched in the most elaborate and gruesome ways possible.
On a purely personal, subjective note, one of my favorite things about The Towering Inferno is its setting. The tower itself is genuinely impressive, what with all those flames shooting out of it at dazzlingly photogenic angles, and the interior decor is so hideous it's actually a pleasure to see it go up in flames. The glam-fan in me loves that this high-rise catastrophe takes place during a formal function, the result: the film is a virtual symphony of billowing chiffon, feather boas, clunky platform disco shoes, and towering hair sculptures.
Given a nothing role, Faye Dunaway and her legendary bone structure (and that amazing dress) still effortlessly managed to upstage everything else
From a film buff's perspective, it's also a great deal of fun seeing if you catch and count which stars in the film have worked with each other in the past (hint: Love is a Many Splendored Thing) or would again in the future (hint: Airport '79). The Towering Inferno endures for me as the last of the genre to be sincere enough to play it straight and attempt to balance the human drama with the spectacular action.
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BONUS MATERIAL
The Towering Inferno - 1974
Angel, Angel, Down We Go -1969
A regular reader of this blog (Thanks, Wille!) brought to my attention that the gown Jennifer Jones wears in The Towering Inferno (top image) is bears a resemblance to an outfit she wears in 1969's Angel, Angel, Down We Go (bottom image). Jones' Towering Inferno gown was designed by longtime Irwin Allen costume designer Paul Zastupnevich. The outfit she wears in the lower photo is actually an evening pants suit with a tunic top designed by five-time Oscar nominated costume designer Renie (pronounced Renay...wouldn't you know it?). You can see costume sketches for The Towering Inferno by clicking on the link to The Irwin Allen News network, below. 13/14
For those interested in reading about the production, the rivalries, and all manner of behindthe-scenes trivia regarding The Towering Inferno, the internet offers a wealth of sources. The Towering Inferno Archive The Irwin Allen News Network Gossip: Paul Newman Meets Steve McQueen Poseidon's Underworld: The Towering Inferno
The film was so popular a student draws from it for audition material in Alan Parker's Fame (1980)
Burn, Baby, Burn Gotta love that this movie inspired the 1976 disco classic Disco Inferno by The Trammps
Copyright Š Ken Anderson
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