Review of Backdraft (1991) by Carolyn G — 23 Jul 2010

A pyrotechnic's wet-dream, Backdraft is a monstrous technical achievement. Beautiful to behold especially on the big screen, it seems Ron Howard spares no expense in blood sweat and coffers to capture what must be one of the most spectacular motion pictures about fires and firemen to date. And this was made in 1991.

Still, as new and vibrant and stunning the visual effects and fiery set pieces are, the film seems oddly dated. And I don't mean 1990s dated. I mean it feels like a film made in the 80s. Replete with signature 80s rock ballad montage sequences and an overly earnest plot, the film seems not only awestruck by the fire, but of 80s style moviemaking.

The cast is uniformly superb. William Baldwin's sensitive Brian McCaffrey works as a brilliant foil to Kurt Russell's rugged older brother Stephen. Mr Russell is in his element here, displaying machismo sans smirk and surprising depth. De Niro, Walsh and Sutherland pull in supporting roles with eye-catching ease, as do Rebecca DeMornay and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Unfortunately, however, they all also suffer from the same hackneyed screenplay that seems as overtly enamored of firefighters and their subjects as baby brother Brian was in the opening sequence of the film. Coupled with Howard's reverential rendering of the fire sequences as poetry in action, the entire film becomes a classic case of "gilding the lilly".

At one point, Mr Deniro even describes the fire (as does Mr Russell) to the 'Proby' brian in purely anthropomorphic terms with some token dubious 'zen' philosophy thrown in. The lines are often stilted and overly romantic. At one point, Mr Russell beams proudly as he witnesses his younger brother single handedly pick up a fire-hose. "Look at that. That's my brother.".

Mixed in with that are a series of storylines, all seemingly fulfilling the checkboxes for focus groups, including one of an arsonist on the loose, a politician's cynical ploy to gain elections by cutting city firefighting funding, young love, a divorce, a rookie and brotherhood. The brotherhood story is the most successful of the lot but none of them take centrestage from the pyrotechnics and the repeated romanticization of the flames and the film's namesake, the backdraft.

As stunning as the visuals are, and as poetic as the angry hues of red and orange are, they drown out nuance. And as terrific as the cast is, they struggle to lift themselves off the page beyond the realm of stock characters. Howard is at his best paying homage to firemen not in spectacular renditions of backdrafts and clouds of flames on ceilings, or in an inexplicable title card at the end of the film claiming that there are over one million firefighters working in the US, but in all too rare instances when he observes a fireman smoking a cigarette in the aftermath, or in silhuoettes of them hacking soot, or even in the pensive looks in their faces as they charge into a burning building.

Backdraft is every eager boy's dream to grow up and be a fireman. Innocent to the point of naivete, reverential to the point of facile, it is only saved by an immensely talented cast and an engrossing lead - the fire.