In spite of itself, THE TOWERING INFERNO works. Most of its disaster movie brethern, made, much like itself, by power producer Irwin Allen, have aged into embarrassments. But INFERNO, even with its threadbare script, flimsy story, and near-eternal running time, still pulses and hums and excites.

INFERNO's effect has nothing to do with the fire effects (though there are a few disturbingly impressive full body burns) and everything to do with the film's two stars. Paul Newman and Steve McQueen are so good they elevate anything they're in, including this.

Newman didn't do many action movies but he's a ferociously physical presence. He's intimidating when he's talking on the telephone, and even more intimidating looking at blueprints. Newman tells his oblivious superiors that the building he has made will burn itself into oblivion, but no one will heed his apocalyptic warnings. They won't even stop their grand opening party when the fire breaks out (they contend they are so far from it they are safe, though I would argue that the fact that heat rises makes that point moot). Newman wears a grim face of barely controlled rage; at any second he might just snap and put his fist through a wall.

McQueen just may be the coolest white guy in the history of cinema. Here, as a goody-two-shoes firefighter he's still super-cool. The way, when given a suicide mission, he maintains his air of persistent determination ("Oh, they'll probably find some dumb son of a bitch to bring it up" he says to Newman about their last ditch plan to dynamite the fire when he knows full well he's the dumb son of a bitch). He even maintains his cool when the movie sticks him inside a cumbersome aluminum condom. It's no wonder his likeness is still used to sell cars; car commercials are about cool and nobody was cool like Steve McQueen.

Without them, INFERNO would not work. In point of fact, when they're not on-screen it doesn't; but those moments are rare. Newman is an architect who has designed the newly-completed Glass Tower, the world's newest tallest building. Unfortunately, he hired world-class scumbag Richard Chamberlain to put in the wiring, and he skimped on Newman's specifications. Chamberlain's shoddy workmanship causes the electrical system to overload which causes fires to break out all over The Tower on the night of its grand unveiling. Also the sprinklers don't work. Also, the alarm systems are broken. Also, there are an inordinate number of oily rags strewn all over the building. McQueen's the fire chief called in to control the blaze, save as many people as he can, and to keep a straight face while his dimwit bosses suggest that the best way to stop the fire is to explode it. Explode it? Hey why don't you guys pour some gasoline on it while you're at it.

The grand narrative of American cinema traces a direct path from today's modern blockbuster to JAWS and STAR WARS, as the two key films that changed the way Hollywood did business (and, according to some, ruined it forever). As the story goes the first half of the decade was a rare haven for daring auteur filmmakers to make radical films. But this version of the events leaves out a key progenitor to modern Hollywood -- the 1970s disaster film, which rose to power before JAWS and STAR WARS, and which shares almost as much in common with the blockbuster and, in some ways, more.

Take THE TOWERING INFERNO, made in 1974. It was co-produced by two studios (20th Century Fox and Warner Brothers) as a way of defraying costs while maximizing the budget. It starred Newman and McQueen, two of the biggest stars in the world at the time, along with an all-star cast including William Holden, Richard Wagner, Richard Vaughn, Jennifer Jones, Faye Dunaway, and Fred Astaire (Note that today's films also use star power to maximize box office, while JAWS and STAR WARS made stars out of people like Richard Dreyfuss and Harrison Ford).

The disaster films had their own unique attributes. They were far less sentimental than the modern mainstream, and also a lot longer (INFERNO clocks in at two and three quarter hours). But I see these as things that were refined and "improved" upon with time. After all, you can't get repeat business if your film is a bummer and the longer your movie the fewer showings you can cram into a day, and the fewer tickets you can sell.