This uproariously absurd Canadian disaster (semi) epic centers on an unspecified metropolis (Chicago? New York? Los Angeles?) catching aflame after a bitter oil refinery worker (grossly overplayed by Jonathan Walsh) pours fuel in the city's sewers that in turn gets set alight by two welders working in said sewer (!). Next thing you know the whole city becomes an incendiary inferno and people are getting fried left and right. Trapped inside a hospital in the middle of the blaze are dull doctor Barry Newman (whose once smokin' hot career promptly ran out of gas following his sterling portrayal of Kowalski in the car chase cult classic "Vanishing Point"), haggard-looking nurse Shelley Winters (who suffered a heart attack during "The Poseidon Adventure" and meets a similar abrupt fate here), and corner-cutting mayor Leslie Nielsen (who also got killed during "The Poseidon Adventure;" who was the casting director on this flick?). Trying to contain the fire and save countless human lives is stern, no-nonsense fire chief Henry Fonda (the President in "Meteor").
Clumsily directed with an appalling lack of skill and finesse by Alvin Rakoff (who went on to fumble with the equally inept "Death Ship"), with a totally implausible script co-written by none other than Jack Hill, this admittedly awful picture still counts as a great deal of cheesy fun thanks to terrible acting from a noticeably embarrassed Hall of Shame Faded Name cast (Ava Gardner is pitiful as a boozy, bitchy TV news anchorwoman; ditto James Franciscus as a harried television station manager), poor special effects (both the miniatures and matte paintings are laughably pathetic), and hilariously horrendous dialogue (groan-inducing gems include "Try talking to a surgeon about compromise during an open heart operation" and "Don't die on me for Christ's sake"). The single most unintentionally sidesplitting scene occurs when a drooling, deranged old bag gets turned into a human torch and cuts loose with an incredible high-pitched scream as she runs down a flame-engulfed street. And remember folks: "It can happen to any city anywhere!"
Clumsily directed with an appalling lack of skill and finesse by Alvin Rakoff (who went on to fumble with the equally inept "Death Ship"), with a totally implausible script co-written by none other than Jack Hill, this admittedly awful picture still counts as a great deal of cheesy fun thanks to terrible acting from a noticeably embarrassed Hall of Shame Faded Name cast (Ava Gardner is pitiful as a boozy, bitchy TV news anchorwoman; ditto James Franciscus as a harried television station manager), poor special effects (both the miniatures and matte paintings are laughably pathetic), and hilariously horrendous dialogue (groan-inducing gems include "Try talking to a surgeon about compromise during an open heart operation" and "Don't die on me for Christ's sake"). The single most unintentionally sidesplitting scene occurs when a drooling, deranged old bag gets turned into a human torch and cuts loose with an incredible high-pitched scream as she runs down a flame-engulfed street. And remember folks: "It can happen to any city anywhere!"