‘How to Blow Up a Pipeline’ Is the Movie Everyone Needs to See Right Now
Image: Toronto Intentional Film Festival
As I have seen How to blow up a pipeline Last month at a small screening in Brooklyn, everyone left the room in complete silence. Awe, inspiration, a little hope – I left this theater with a vibrant energy I haven’t felt since I first saw Paul Schraders First reformed. Now that the film has premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival, seen a wave of positive reviews, and been selected for a wide theatrical release by NEOM, there is a small hope growing at the prospect that soon everyone will be able to enjoy what one of them is the best films i have seen in years.
Director Daniel Goldhaber How to blow up a pipeline is an adaptation of the manifesto of the same name by Andreas Malm. Malm’s text is grounded in a compelling philosophy and history of “nonviolence” that ultimately not only justifies the destruction of property, but also reveals how central it was to struggles for justice ranging from the anti-colonial resistance in the Global South to the American civil rights movement .
Goldhaber’s film draws on an ensemble cast who have lived their lives in the shadow of fossil fuel infrastructure. The film centers on two best friends who grew up next to a giant Long Beach oil plant: Xochitl (Ariela Barer, who co-wrote the film with Goldhaber and Jordan Sjol) and Theo (Sasha Lane). Theo’s diagnosis with a rare form of leukemia and the death of Xochitl’s mother in a heat wave bring them together on a daring plan for revenge: sabotage a vulnerable section of a pipeline that would prevent West Texas crude oil from being sent to refineries in the Midwest of the Gulf of Mexico. They argue that this would prevent the physical exchange in Oklahoma that sets the prices for West Texas Intermediate (WTI) futures contracts, one of the key benchmarks for oil prices.
Most reviews for How to blow up a pipeline specifically likened the film’s structure to a pirated thriller Ocean’s Eleven, and they are right. Shawn (Marcus Scribner) is a film student who becomes disillusioned with the college’s divestment campaigns and, after a few phone-in-the-fridge discussions, joins forces with Xochitil and Theo. He takes on a documentary project to meet people willing to fight oil companies, which leads him to Dwayne (Jake Weary), a West Texas man fighting an oil company’s attempts to build more infrastructure in the area. Theo’s friend Alisha (Jayme Lawson) is tossed between her shifts in a pantry. Michael (Forrest Goodluck), an indigenous man who quarrels with men who come to help mine natural gas in the countryside, and his mother, who works for a nature reserve, make amateur videos of bombs on Tik Tok before Xochitl she finds. There’s even some vaguely punk-anarchists Rowan (Kristine Froseth) and Logan (Lukas Gage) introducing a storyline I won’t reveal here.
The goal of this crew, like any good heist movie, is to exploit multiple weaknesses in a system’s security in order to bring the whole thing down and loot priceless treasure. The system here is how we transport and price crude oil, the shortcomings are relatively unprotected stretches of pipeline that lead to the places where that crude oil is traded and refined, and the priceless treasure is the nationwide paralysis of oil production and consumption. And yet the heart of the film lies elsewhere.
As First reformed and Schrader’s other films, How to blow up a pipeline features characters disgusted by an integral part of the modern world and insisting on doing something about it. Unlike Schrader’s films, however, this action is not self-destructive – it is in self-defense. They all still dream of a better world, despite the pain and suffering they’ve been through. in the First reformed, we only see a brief moment of it: although Reverend Toller’s crisis of faith simmers at the beginning of the film, it is widely exposed by his encounter with an eco-terrorist in his parish. Just when you think his desperation has consumed him as you scroll through videos of suicide bombers and ecological desperation, his voiceover diary entry kicks in: “No, I haven’t lost my faith,” and he commits a religious act of ecoterror , although still an ultimately self-defeating and nihilistic act.
in the How to blow up a pipeline, the only actual acts of violence in the film are committed by federal agents and oil company grunts trying to thwart the plan. The characters go to great lengths not to actually hurt anyone, though one night they acknowledge and debate what the successful execution of this plan would definitely look like pain People who depend on fossil fuels. That’s consistent with Malm’s manifesto, which goes beyond simply advocating the destruction of property and reminding people of its role in movements, and actually elaborates a stronger ideal of nonviolence that might risk alienating some in return stimulate more effective responses.
Property rights are sacrosanct in our world, where the main architects of our politics and economy and our social relations—corporations, nation-states conquered by them, wealthy individuals who fill both organizations—rank first Not moral actors. They seek profit, power, sovereignty, and to the extent that it makes sense to avert the worst effects of climate change, they will pursue that goal without sacrificing too much. But we already know that given the chance, the rich will lie to line their pocketsand try harder Plans to save their own skin of the carnage they unleashed.
A major argument in the book and its film adaptation is that we’ve spent years, decades, appealing to their sense of morality. All that she has achieved is pushing us to the brink where we must attempt to limit how many millions (or billions) will die over the coming century from the effects of climate change caused by the use of fossil fuels. There were some important achievements in using government policies (bans, restrictions, subsidies, etc.) to deter investment in fossil fuel extraction and production, but will that be enough? We can continue to follow these channels, but it’s important to maintain a more confident flank, as was the case in the civil rights movement, in the colonial independence movements, in the animal rights movement, and in countless other struggles that we acknowledge had a major one influence on our life.
We must become an investment risk, as Malm writes and as the film shows, if there is to be any real hope of salvaging as much of humanity and its ecological niche as possible. The film begins with an act of sabotage – cutting the tires of an SUV and leaving a bright yellow, one-page manifesto on the window. Sabotage also wraps up the film’s ending – a new group blows up a yacht, leaving the same manifesto on a nearby pole. But with a wink and a nudge, you can almost hear the film say that the sabotage doesn’t have to stop when the credits roll.