THE TOWERING INFERNO: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox/Warner Bros., 1974) Fox Home Video

In honor of the Walt Disney Corporation’s most recent public announcement that, after decades of sitting on their own goldmine of Uncle Walt’s live-action film legacy, as well as to have since annexed the asset management catalog of the now-defunct 2oth Century-Fox (inexplicably rechristened 2oth Century Studios by Disney Inc.), Walt’s successors have reached a distribution deal with Grover Crisp and Sony Home Entertainment (whose home video model is decidedly more progressive and aggressive), we at Nix Pix have decided to revisit several Fox catalog releases, decidedly, requiring some immediate love and attention.

So ambitious in scope, it necessitated the very first intra-studio collaboration in Hollywood's history between 2oth Century-Fox and Warner Bros. (each, having purchased a competing literary property with a similarly themed ‘people in peril’ fire/rescue scenario), and, so blindingly star-studded, one New York critic astutely labeled it as “Grand Hotel in flames”; The Towering Inferno (1974), co-directed by the master of disaster, Irwin Allen and John Guillerman, remains a Herculean endeavor by any stretch of the imagination. Fifty years on, it endures as the granddaddy of all summer blockbuster actioners - a peerless race against time with extraordinary stunt work, and, supremely satisfying, high-stakes drama. Credit here is owed screenwriter extraordinaire, Stirling Silliphant whose amalgamation of Richard Martin Stern’s The Tower and The Glass Inferno, co-authored by Thomas N. Scortia and Frank M. Robinson, borrows and blends the best elements from each into a seamless and exhilarating roller coaster ride. Irwin Allen, who had shown great promise in television, yet had to browbeat investors to get his first movie disaster epic, 1972’s The Poseidon Adventure out of dry dock, could effectively write his own ticket after ‘Poseidon’ swamped the competition at the box office. It was a victory hard won, as Allen quickly realized The Towering Inferno was easily among the most ambitious movies yet attempted by any major studio. This was not just a disaster movie but, at 165-mins., a super-colossus, fraught with innumerable possibilities for failure.

Allen’s formula for achieving the impossible was simple, though no less effective: take a group of A-list celebrities and old-time stars, and, place them in imminent peril. The disaster subgenre had not enjoyed a resurgence on the big screen since the late 1930’s, perhaps, in part, because a world at war throughout the 1940’s was too in tune with the genuine horrors depicting a hemisphere in flames. The subsequent bright-eyed optimism heralded by the mid-1950’s boom in American prosperity delivered its own pie-eyed focus on seemingly more innocent/escapist entertainments.  But the sixties, with its social upheavals and disillusionment, rocked by civil unrest, political assassinations and Hollywood scandals, to say nothing of the mounting Viet Nam conflict, turned yet another corner in America’s culture evolution. Besides, the old guard in Hollywood was winding down. In their decline, there rose a new breed of film-maker – unafraid to explore the tenacity of counterculture – movies made on smaller budgets, grittier, darker, uglier, and, decidedly deglamorized and unflattering in their portraits of the human condition.

Interesting too, to consider the timing. The Towering Inferno debuted on the eve of President Nixon’s imploding administration after two, long years of the Watergate scandal. Viewed today, one can appreciate Allen’s desire to make a movie that not only spoke to his sensibilities culled from Hollywood's glittery Babylon of yore, but also, now (or rather, 'then') to speak to America’s polarized cynicism, railing against authority, and played out, at least in this movie, against the specter of big business cutting corners to save a buck. Allen had no difficulty casting the picture. After The Poseidon Adventure, everyone wanted to be in it. So, Allen had his pick of celebrity cache, running the gamut from old-timers like Fred Astaire, Jennifer Jones, William Holden and Robert Wagner, to new arrivals on the scene, Faye Dunaway, O.J. Simpson and Richard Chamberlain.  To helm the production, Allen turned to two of the biggest stars of all-time: Steve McQueen and Paul Newman – each, a reigning he-hunk with genuine box office muscle to flex; enough to conquer the steel and concrete behemoth Allen and his special effects wizards were about to ignite beneath their feet like a roman candle on the 4th of July. Above all else, The Towering Inferno is Irwin Allen’s cautionary tale about fire safety, and, the rather lax and marginally outdated policies of ‘then’ present-day building codes.

Working from a stockpile of well-formulated research on the inherent legalities and loopholes in this construction/kickbacks code of ethics, Allen’s skepticism for the industry would ring ominously true on November 21, 1980, when Las Vegas’ most lavishly appointed hotel, the MGM Grand, similarly went up in flames, killing 87 people, becoming the third largest hotel fire in U.S. history. Retrospectively, there are aspects of The Towering Inferno that align with the thought-numbing terrorist attacks of Sept. 11th, 2001, and, more recently, Britain’s brutal Grenfell Tower fire in 2017. It is, as example, quite impossible now to view the scene in The Towering Inferno where a trapped and gasping Susan Flannery breaks a window in desperation for fresh air, only to be propelled to her death by a sudden blast of oxygen-fueled backdraft, as something of an artistic foreshadowing to the infamous World Trade Center’s ‘falling man’ Jonathan Briley, still clutching his briefcase. Similarly, the Grenfell case, if nothing else, rings ominously true as to how little has changed in the ethics of building code violations, best exemplified in the movie with two of Sterling Silliphant’s most bone-chilling bits of dialogue given to Paul Newman’s architect, Doug Roberts – “If you had to cut something why didn’t you cut floors instead of corners?” and “What do they call it when you kill people?” The Towering Inferno really ought to be remembered apart from these terrible real-life disasters seared into our collective memory since, and likely, forever. Because in Irwin Allen’s genuine love for the disaster epic, his unrelenting zeal to make two of its finest testaments, and, as the second of these, The Towering Inferno remains an impressive achievement on par with the greatest works ever committed to celluloid. It is the ‘Gone with the Wind’ or ‘Citizen Kane’ of its genre.

In preparing his movie, Allen assembled an extraordinary team of dedicated stunt professionals to perform the many hazardous maneuvers necessary to convince his audience the blaze was not only real, but getting up close and personal with old man fire. New techniques in layering stunt men and women with fire-retardant clothing, coated in highly flammable, though slow-burning liquids, were created to resemble the uncanny effect of setting human flesh afire. This was particularly effective in two sequences; the first, involving a non-descript extra who, previously trapped in an elevator stopping on the floor where the blaze has begun, now bursts into the crowded Promenade Ballroom, lit like a human torch, collapsing in a fiery death heap as horrified guests look on. Continuing this sequence, Allen personalizes the horror by similarly involving Robert Wagner’s P.R. executive, Dan Bigelow who, unaware the flames have spread to his outer offices, now makes a valiant, though ultimately doomed effort to race through the roiling conflagration to save his secretary/lover, Lorrie (Susan Flannery) from a similar fate.

One of the most impressive aspects of The Towering Inferno is that, apart from several superbly blended matte shots to create the towering edifice against San Francisco’s skyline, as well as a handful of flawlessly executed miniatures, virtually all of the remaining visuals and stunts in the picture are accomplished full scale with the fire cleverly ‘controlled’ by a series of regulated gas jets and flame throwers to direct the flames elsewhere, keeping the actors safe. For the flooding of the tower’s rooftop Promenade Room, Irwin Allen had his production designer, William J. Creber construct an elaborate ballroom, repurposing props from 1969’s Hello Dolly!’s Harmonia Gardens restaurant set, elevated several feet off the floor to ensure the resulting deluge of flames and raging waters would plain away, keeping everyone safe. The set was surrounded by an ‘as impressive’ 360-degree backlit cyclorama of the San Franciscan skyline at night, with interior rigging and dump tanks overhead, capable of dropping a million gallons of water on the set. While Creber’s production design for the Promenade Room was heavily influenced by what passed for uber-contemporary chic good taste in the mid-1970’s, keen eyes will immediately identify the elaborate and multi-tiered fountains from Hello Dolly! reappearing herein as oversized terrariums with plastic foliage, and, lattice fencing borrowed from John DeCuir’s 14th Street exteriors from the same movie.

The Towering Inferno is a sobering experience even today, as its star-studded ensemble are not guaranteed to survive this night. Indeed, too few do, adding unsettling resonance to the ‘life and death’ scenarios played from the vantage of our post-modern jaded contemporary expectations.  About half of this glittering assemblage will not make it to the final reel thanks to the cost-cutting measures exercised by a pair of ambitious real estate developers, merely to satisfy their bottom line - millionaire/investor/builder, Jim Duncan (William Holden) and his arrogant, if insecure son-in-law, Roger Simmons (Richard Chamberlain). The proverbial fly in their ointment is architect, Doug Roberts (Paul Newman) who, having designed this fire trap under more altruistic pursuits of architectural integrity, has nevertheless become complicity in the disaster about to unfold, simply by choosing to remain largely absent during the glass tower’s construction phase.

Most of the supporting roles in The Towering Inferno are little more than superfluous distractions, meant to delay the outbreak of fire: Fred Astaire’s enterprising con, Harlee Claiborne, intending to sell his latest victim, Lisolette Muir (Jennifer Jones) a fraudulent stake in Greater Anaheim Power and Light – a fake company; Robert Vaughn’s cordial Senator Gary Parker, plotting his political stake in the afterglow of Duncan’s ‘urban renewal’ contract for the city; Susan Blakley’s suffering newlywed, Patty – Duncan’s daughter and Roger’s conflicted wife; Faye Dunaway, as Doug’s enterprising paramour, Susan Franklin, torn between a budding career as a senior editor, and, her devotion to this brilliant man;  O.J. Simpson, the ever-loyal security guard, Jernigan, rescuing Lisolette’s trapped cat, Elkie and Mrs. Allbright (Carol McEvoy) from certain death; Jack Collins and Sheila Allen as Mayor and Paula Ramsay, devoted marrieds whose eleventh hour concern turns to their teenage daughter – left at home. How will she ever manage without them? …should it come to that. Sterling Silliphant’s screenplay astutely tracks all these dramatic threads as our cast navigates through the perils of this fiery labyrinth.

Paul Newman’s Doug Roberts ranks among the actor’s best performances. In some ways, it is a flashier role than the one afforded Steve McQueen’s 5^th Battalion Fire Chief, Michael O’Halloran. At age 49, Newman illustrates an uncannily youthful agility, pulling off a ferocious spate of stunts, scaling dilapidated fire escapes and dodging the white-hot flames licking at his heels. That said, playing love interest to Faye Dunaway’s Susan Franklin could not have been easy. As with Judy Garland before her, Dunaway became notorious for crippling bouts of stage fright. Frequently, this was to manifest in Dunaway’s inability to get to the set on time, infuriating co-star, William Holden, who considered her behavior the height of unprofessionalism. However, Dunaway could be opinionated too. Initially, she fought with director, John Guillermin on the ‘love scene’ where she appears in only scant red satin panties and bra, lying next to Doug after their supposed flagrante delicto. To diffuse the situation, Newman appeared on time and on set, stripped down to his boxers, donning a pair of cowboy boots complete with spurs, and, at the appropriate moment, pulling back the covers to reveal his unscripted attire, casually inquiring, “Is this kinky enough for you, Faye?”  It was quite enough to break the tension in the air.  

The other great star turn in The Towering Inferno undeniably belongs to Steve McQueen. It takes a full twenty-minutes before McQueen’s character even appears in the movie. But when he does, there is a respectful competition at play between his fire chief and Newman’s architect. McQueen, noted for his competitive nature, particularly when pitted against other great talents he admired, insisted on co-star billing above the title. Thus, his name registers in a screen credit shared with Newman, though just slightly higher than Newman’s to delineate marquee-drawing-power in their billing. McQueen also ordered his fire chief’s insignia remade slightly oversized to distinguish his cap from the other similarly attired firemen. Initially, director, John Guillermin was wary about what testosterone-infused machismo might rear its ugly head between these two titans of the screen. He had nothing to fear. McQueen, in awe of Newman, and Newman, mindful of McQueen’s popularity, instantly bonded on the set. Between takes, the men could be counted upon to be engaged in pleasurable conversation, often in the company of Dunaway, and occasionally, Richard Chamberlain.

The Towering Inferno opens with some breathtaking aerial shots of the San Francisco skyline as a helicopter for Duncan Enterprises gives California architect, Doug Roberts his first bird’s eye view of the newly built glass tower (actually a matte painting). Landing on the tower’s roof, Doug is met by the builder, James Duncan (William Holden), grinning with Cheshire pride. Jim implores Doug to reconsider his decision to retire. However, Doug remains steadfast in his pursuit of a quieter life, jokingly informing Duncan to come down after the reception and watch him ‘burn his black tie’; a prophetic irony, very shortly, and regrettably, to bear itself out. Returning to his offices on the 79th floor, Doug is reunited with his paramour/book publisher, Susan Franklin (Faye Dunaway). She has arranged for a romantic rendezvous in his private suite, complete with champagne luncheon and pull-out bed. Doug has assumed Susan will accompany him in his move to the country. Alas, she has been offered a promotion at work, one that pits her future cosmopolitan prosperity against Doug’s desire for the rural life. This awkward fracture in their reunion is interrupted with news of a small electrical fire in the building’s main generator utility room. Meanwhile, on the 81st floor, a utility box overheats, creating a spark to ignite some flammable materials nearby. Inside the command center, security guard, Harry Jernigan (O.J. Simpson) takes notice of a tripped sensor, indicating a fire in progress. Curiously, the automated direct prompt to the fire department has not kicked in, creating minor confusion as to whether or not a fire is actually in progress.

In another part of the tower, PR man, Dan Bigelow (Robert Wagner) arrives in Duncan’s private office to discover Doug and his engineer, Will Giddings (Normann Burton) already engaged in a heated debate. Having inspected wiring in one of the building’s utility rooms, Doug realizes Duncan has not adhered to his original specs. Doug accuses Duncan and his son-in-law, contractor, Roger Simmons (Richard Chamberlain) of cutting corners to save money. Unable to reach Roger by telephone, Doug goes to Roger’s home, cordially greeted by his wife/Duncan’s daughter, Patty (Susan Blakely) who knows she has entered into a bad marriage. Roger and Doug have words, culminating with Doug demanding Roger produce his revised spec sheets for his consideration by Monday morning…or else.  Meanwhile, back at the tower, we are introduced to Lisolette Muir (Jennifer Jones) – a teacher concluding a painting lesson with two young protégées; Phillip (Mike Lookinland – a.k.a. TV’s Bobby Brady) and Angela Allbright (Carlena Gower). The children, along with their deaf mother (Carol McEvoy) will prove a pivotal plot point later on. Lisolette is attending the inaugural gala in the glass tower. Her date, Harlee Claiborne (Fred Astaire) is a benign con artist, unable to bring himself to be devious in the face of true love, especially after Lisolette reveals she has known all along his truer intentions.    

The opening act of The Towering Inferno is incredibly adept at introducing us to all these intertwining lives. From here, the movie segues to its main oeuvre – the fire, trapping Dan in his clandestine romantic rendezvous with secretary, Lorrie (Susan Flannery). The couple is, as yet, unaware the flames are fast consuming the outer offices that surround them. Unable to call out for help, Dan makes a daring – if ill-fated – decision to run the blazing gauntlet. He is consumed in a hellish ball of flame as Lorrie helplessly looks on. Shortly thereafter, a blast of fresh air forces Lorrie to her death through a shattered window.  With Chief Mike O'Hallorhan’s (Steve McQueen) arrival, the situation takes on grim immediacy. The people in the tower are going to die unless something is done – and fast. O’Hallorhan orders Duncan to move his gala downstairs. Regrettably, it is already too late, the fire lapping into nearby elevator shafts and killing a car-full of guests; one ill-fated soul managing his return to the Promenade Room, still on fire, before collapsing in front of its shell-shocked onlookers.

Meanwhile, Lisolette has made it to the 81st floor, desperate to save Phillip, Angela and their mother. Witnessed on the security monitor, Jernigan makes his way, along with Doug to the Allbright’s suite, discovering the fire perilously close and fast approaching. Jernigan and an unconscious Mrs. Allbright are separated from Lisolette, Doug and the children, who make their way up a tight stairwell back to the Promenade Room, only to realize the safety doors are blocked by a toppled wheelbarrow of dried cement. Doug climbs through the ductwork and air ventilation shafts. Eventually, he makes his way to the other side. Two firemen arrive on the scene and detonate explosives to pry the door open, thereby reuniting Lisolette with Harlee. Too bad a gas explosion several floors beneath them bars any plans for a stout-hearted escape. As the main generator fails, power to the Promenade Room is cut off. Doug rigs the scenic elevator with a gravity pull. It can now carry twelve guests to ground level. Doug places Lisolette, the children, Mrs. Ramsey, Susan and Patty in its car with a trained fireman. Regrettably, as the elevator begins its slow descend, the building’s core is rocked by a series of explosions. The scenic elevator is dislocated from its track, hanging by a single cable and causing Lisolette to fall through its shattered glass to her death.

O’Hallorhan telephones Doug in the tower to suggest two desperate rescue plans; first, a breeches buoy from the Promenade Room to the top of the nearby, though much shorter, Peerless Building. Senator Parker (Robert Vaughn), the city’s Mayor (Jack Collins) and Duncan all do their part to secure the rigging for this endeavor. But as the fire begins to creep into the ballroom, chaos and greed grip the menfolk, prompted by Roger to mutiny. Roger climbs into the buoy, kicking Senator Parker and some of the other men to their deaths before an explosion severs his lifeline. As a previous attempt to land a helicopter on the roof ended with a disastrous downdraft and explosion, in a last-ditch effort to save the remaining guests, O’Hallorhan is air-lifted to the roof in a protective suit, joined by Doug in the building’s overhead storehouse. O’Hallorhan shows Doug how to plant explosive charges along the roof, meant to blow the million-gallon water tanks overhead and thus flood the Promenade Room, hopefully to extinguish the fire. In the epic deluge that follows, the mayor is washed away and bartender, Carlos (Gregory Sierra) is crushed beneath a toppling piece of weighty sculpture. Harlee, Duncan, Doug and O’Hallorhan survive. Harlee endures the loss of his beloved Lisolette, given her cat, rescued earlier by Jernigan. Duncan comforts Patty after she has seen what is left of Roger’s body. Doug is comforted by Susan as O’Hallorhan makes a prophetic statement about the future of fire safety, suggesting no good can come of architectural designs until architects collaborate with those who understand firsthand the perils of fire safety. Doug agrees, vowing to be in touch with O’Hallorhan. Although never pointedly established, this finale also hints Doug has scrapped his plans to retire. He will continue his architectural work, thus allowing Susan to pursue her dreams as a senior editor.

While Irwin Allen’s name appears in the title, The Towering Inferno, he was forced to share directorial credit with John Guillermin. This was non-negotiable as the executive powers at 2oth Century-Fox and Warner Bros. believed Guillermin possessed more experience to helm such a costly production. In reply, Allen stipulated in his contract, to direct virtually all the fire sequences, and, to be consulted for his creative input on the rest of the movie. The Towering Inferno might never have come about had these rival studios not acquired similarly themed novels about a skyscraper going up in flames. Fox and Warner’s decision to join forces on a single venture, rather than compete separately with two similarly-themed movies, proved extremely profitable for all concerned, as well as establishing a precedence for co-production in Hollywood that remains in effect to this day. The Towering Inferno grossed more than $116,000,000 in the U.S. alone on its ‘then’ epic $14 million budget, making it one of the most successful motion pictures of all time.

Viewed today, Irwin Allen’s philosophical bias on architectural esthetics versus fire safety is relentless. His interpolated insertions of nondescript extras decrying the lack of fire preparedness becomes a pivotal plot point, blatantly over-exaggerated in the sequence where Doug and Lisolette discover a turned over wheelbarrow of congealed cement blocking their entrance to the Promenade Room. Even the notion of the skyscraper, as a uniquely American – and arguably, Freudian – testament to progress gets subverted. To promote the movie, Irwin Allen turned its’ shoot into a media event – allowing members of the press to watch as scenes were being photographed and acting as their guide to promote the picture. Fashioning himself as a showman a la Mike Todd, Allen also treated his formidable cast like royalty, right down to ensconcing each in lavishly-appointed bungalows adjacent the sound stage and encouraging a sense of community for their comfort and social interaction. Co-star, Richard Chamberlain later recalled the sheer exhilarating he felt, being in the presence of Fred Astaire and William Holden, both of whom he greatly admired. Apart from Holden’s short fuse with Faye Dunaway’s repeated ‘tardiness’, filming on The Towering Inferno progressed without incident.

Today, The Towering Inferno endures as the granddaddy of all contemporary disaster epics. Few since have veered very far – if, at all – from its formulaic narrative structure. In retrospect, this has become something of a cliché. But the picture is more than just a special effects extravaganza. Thanks in part to Irwin Allen clever execution, but moreover, Stirling Silliphant’s monumentally involving screenplay, The Towering Inferno holds up with astonishing integrity as a drama too. Silliphant’s concision, his ability to introduce and distinguish characters before focusing on their collective plight for self-preservation, is a template in the disaster/drama subgenre. There is also the cast to consider, cribbing from the best instinctually in touch with their craft.  Real talent never dies. Instead, it ages like wine, occasionally, of a very rare vintage. The Towering Inferno immensely benefits from the presence of William Holden, Paul Newman, and, Steve McQueen. Each, is a very tough act to follow. There are no comparable talents to theirs working in the American cinema today. But of course, the real star in The Towering Inferno is the fire – credibly ignited, using various techniques, including the simplest – incinerating a set, treated in slow burning, though highly flammable materials, and, made even more palpably frightening by its close proximity to highly skilled stunt men and women. Virtually all exteriors of the monolithic glass tower are meticulously crafted models, made to various scales. Interiors are an amalgam of location work done in downtown Frisco, and, second unit sound stage recreations on the Fox backlot.

Remarkably, William J. Creber’s production design has not dated all that much, perhaps because the basic structural elements that go into the design of contemporary skyscrapers has not matured. The same cannot be said of Ward Preston’s art direction, a curious amalgam of then contemporary seventies’ chic meets turn-of-the-century Victorian bric-a-brac. It’s a weird blend at best, and occasionally, it dates very badly. Ditto for Paul Zastupnevich’s costuming with its penchant for flouncy men’s dress shirts and bleeding red or rusty brown velvet tuxedoes. Nevertheless, all of these excesses now lend the film an air of nostalgia it otherwise lacked at the time of its theatrical release. Faye Dunaway’s risqué beige silk ball gown (basically two strips of fabric running vertically from her neck to her waistline, to expose a considerable amount of flesh between her breasts) has kept pace with fashion since, most recently revived as the exotic green Versace silk chiffon Jennifer Lopez wore to the 42nd Grammy Awards in the year, 2000. Did one style influence the other? Hmmm.  Does it matter? Perhaps, only to illustrate Dunaway – not Lopez – as the real trend-setter? Last, but certainly not least, The Towering Inferno is noteworthy for composer, John Williams’ memorable early underscores, including the Oscar-winning ‘We May Never Love Like This Again’ sung by Maureen McGovern. Although McGovern had a sizeable hit with ‘The Morning After’ (the anthem from The Poseidon Adventure), in that film, only a few bars were heard, and actually sung by a rather listless Carol Lynley – not McGovern. In The Towering Inferno, both McGovern and the song are prominently featured as part of the evening’s entertainment just prior to the outbreak of fire. In the final analysis, and quite unlike the fictionally doomed glass tower, Irwin Allen built his Towering Inferno to withstand changing the test of time. It remains an A-list entertainment likely to resonate with audiences for many years yet to come.

Fox Home Video’s Blu-Ray similarly suffers from an anemic bit rate that is characteristic of all Fox early forays into the ‘then’ new technology. Though the image quality here easily bests its deluxe DVD release from 2000, with the sumptuousness of 70’s DeLuxe color faithfully reproduced, the real problem here is digital artifacts. On monitors 85 inches or less, and, sitting at a respectable distance, most are imperceivable. Alas, in an era where many have indulged in ‘home theater’ projection set-ups, the results from this short-sightedness in video mastering become glaringly obvious.  Lest we forget, The Towering Inferno was photographed by Fred J. Koenekamp in 70mm. So, this should look positively nuanced and flawless. Alas, it doesn’t and that’s a shame.  The movie’s original 3-channel stereo was upgraded to an aggressive 5.1 Dolby Tru-HD. With understandable limitations inherent in its vintage recording, this new mix easily blows the socks off the theatrical audio. Extras have all been ported over from Fox’s 2-disc Cinema Classics Collector’s DVD and include a comprehensive audio commentary that fills up virtually all of the 170 min. runtime with insightful background stories by F.X. Feeney and special effects director, Mike Venzina, also, stunt coordinator, Branko Racki. A retrospective and brief bio on Irwin Allen follow, accompanied by shorts dedicated to the stunts and special effects. There is also a truncated AMC original documentary: Backstory – The Towering Inferno, plus a litany of extended scenes, outtakes and alternates. Parting thoughts: The Towering Inferno is an exceptional testament to the showmanship of Irwin Allen. Just do not expect to get a good night’s sleep after you’ve seen it – especially, if you live in a high rise.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

4.5