The Poseidon Adventure (1972) – A 50th anniversary appreciation
The Poseidon Adventure remains the only suspense thriller in cinema driven not by walloping action but by a metaphysical contest. The film features only one truly spectacular sequence – the capsizing of the eponymous ocean liner. But at the 30-minute mark, the tsunami wave passes, survivors adjust to the topsy-turvy interior, and slowly begin to look for a way out. There are some fires and plenty of water, but the terrific tension of the ensuing ninety minutes is generated almost singlehandedly by the protagonist’s esoteric journey.
Favouring character development over action worked wonders for Airport – the most profitable film of 1970, and the tarmac from which the modern disaster thriller took off. The Poseidon Adventure displays a much narrower scope than Airport, but its thematic ambition is grander. It offers a discourse about fate versus faith – a leaky idea around which to anchor an action picture – but it floats. The Poseidon Adventure, released in December of 1972, was the second highest grossing film of that year globally, beaten only by The Godfather.
At the helm of this nautical survival mission presides Reverend Frank Scott, passionately portrayed by Gene Hackman in the second leading role of his budding career. The brilliance of Hackman has always been to remain a character actor, even as the star of a film. When Hackman's Scott leads his people to the promised dry land, he has more in common with Doubting Thomas than he does with Moses.
As befitting the counterculture ethos of the day, the recently defrocked Reverend Scott is a self-professed troublemaker. He is “angry, rebellious, critical – a renegade.” Coming from any other middle-age actor of the Easy Rider era these words would sound risible. Somehow, with a wry smile on his face, Hackman delivers them with zest and conviction you can't help but respect. Reverend Scott's is constantly recalibrating his faith to save others. His internal dilemma is propelling the plot – and Hackman alone turns this rather placid cinematic adventure into an edge-of-you-seat existential debate. Scott’s God is a hands-off God – demanding of us to forge our own salvation against the odds thrown at us by fate.
The Reverend’s impromptu flock, greatly reduced by the tsunami, is largely symbolic. We have a tough cop with a new wife – a former hooker. A menswear salesman stands in for the everyman bachelor. A sexy singer, an older Jewish couple, and teen siblings without parents round off a ‘70s Hollywood idea of diversity. Scott himself never dons a priest's collar, assuming a secular leadership instead – he keeps his cool, applies logic, and cares for others more than he does for himself. He even uses a Christmas tree as a means of escape. No wonder he inspires a devout, cross-generational following.
If all this sounds preposterously contrived, it's because it is. Neame’s direction is indifferent, and the sets feel cheap. But the cast built around Hackman includes Ernest Borgnine, Shelly Winters, and Red Buttons – all Academy Award veterans with lived-in faces, and the most unlikely candidates for action heroes. They are all over fifty, with bodies to match. Their physical effort is believable, their sacrifices felt deeply. When Scott finds himself in danger of drowning, his salvation arrives in the form of an overweight, middle-age woman (“In the water, I'm a very skinny lady”).
Death comes when least expected, to the old and the young, and it always registers with the survivors. There is no hint of token, gratuitous violence – you can identify the pain. When the most charming member of the group is lost to a heart attack, Hackman pulls off an extremely touching moment of grief yielding to anger. The hero, at his most vulnerable, realizes that religion in all of its forms is just a construct to make us less lonely. Hackman brings his character down to earth beautifully – the strength Scott gains from his experience is now rooted in his fellow women and men, not God. It is the life in front of us that matters, not the one after. He adopts a rather agnostic position.
In the last act, we see the Reverend pleading to God to spare his ever-diminishing followers. Hackman's forceful delivery makes it clear that Scott is not speaking to some divine entity, but to an equal. In his irreverence, he may as well be addressing the Greek god of the sea – Poseidon himself. Dangling from the wheel of a steaming valve over infernal flames, Scott sweats and clenches his teeth not out of physical pain, but in spiritual agony. His sacrificial “Take me!” resounds deeply in the hull of the sinking ark, and the plea is suddenly heeded. Clearly, the gods cannot resist Gene Hackman's bargaining power, and even more so the viewers.
The titanic success of The Poseidon Adventure spawned a sequel, a remake, and numerous imitators. Its enterprising producer, Irvin Allen, quickly cornered the disaster market with such follow-ups as The Towering Inferno, before succumbing to the law of diminishing returns as a director of similar fare. Fifty years later, the original Poseidon retains its titillating power – its appeal hinging on our compassion for fellow beings facing extinction, not on duelling six-packs suspended in a CGI vacuum.
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