THE TOWERING INFERNO: Blu-ray (2oth Century Fox/Warner Bros. 1974) Fox Home Video
So ambitious
in scope that it necessitated the very first intra-studio collaboration in
Hollywood 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 colossal undertaking by any stretch of the imagination.
Forty-one years later, and despite its lengthy 165 min. run time, it endures as
a peerless example of extraordinary stunt work and supreme script economy.
Allen, who practically had to browbeat investors to get his first disaster classic,
1972’s The Poseidon Adventure, off
the ground (or perhaps, out of dry dock would be a more fitting bit of
hyperbole) could effectively write his own ticket in Hollywood after that movie
made a clean sweep at the box office.
Allen’s
formula was simple though no less effective: take a group of A-list celebrities
and old-time stars and place them in imminent peril. For one reason or another,
the disaster subgenre had not enjoyed such resurgence since the late 1930’s;
perhaps, in part, because the world at war throughout the 1940s and its
subsequent bright-eyed optimism in the 1950s bred a pie-eyed focus on seemingly
more innocent, escapist pursuits. Alas, the sixties, with their embracement of
hippies, drugs and rock n’ roll; also, disillusioned by a series of political
assassinations and scandals, to say nothing of the mounting uncertainties
brought on by the Viet Nam conflict, turned yet another corner in America’s
culture evolution. In Hollywood, this effectively translated into a new and
less certain era in picture-making, extolling the counterculture: smaller,
grittier, uglier independently-made movies catching the tailwinds of this
popular zeitgeist.
Viewed today,
one can appreciate producer/director, Irwin Allen’s verve for attempting to
straddle two eras in the movie-maker’s ever-evolving milieu with The Towering Inferno; on the one-hand,
feeding into the public’s polarized cynicism railing against authority, herein
played out as the specter of big business run amuck to save a buck, while
harking all the way back to the glam-bam of ole Hollywood; particularly in
fattening his roster of talent with such ‘name
above the title’ personages as Fred Astaire, Jennifer Jones, William Holden
and Robert Wagner; all icons from another lifetime in the industry. To helm the
production, Allen turned to two of the biggest stars of their time;
Steve McQueen and Paul Newman – each, a reigning he-man with genuine box office muscle;
at least, enough to conquer the steel and concrete behemoth Allen and his
special effects wizards were about to ignite like a roman candle on the 4th
of July. Above all else, The Towering
Inferno is Allen’s cautionary tale about fire safety and the rather lax and
marginally outdated characteristics of then present-day building codes.
Working from a
stockpile of well-formulated research on the inherent legal flaws in this
ensconced honor system of checks and balances, Allen’s skepticism for the
construction industry would ring ominously true on November 21, 1980, when Las
Vegas’ most lavishly appointed hotel, the MGM Grand, went up in flames, killing
87 people; the third largest hotel fire on record in the U.S. Today, equally there are
aspects of The Towering Inferno that closely align it to the thought-numbing tragedy of Sept. 11th,
2001. As example, it is quite impossible to view the moment in the movie where
a terrorized and trapped Susan Flannery breaks open a window, only to be forced
from it to her death by a blast of oxygen-fueled flames as a counterpoint to another image immediately
conjured to mind: that of the infamous iconography of the World Trade Center’s ‘falling man’ still clutching his
briefcase. Yet, The Towering Inferno
really ought to be remembered apart from these terrible real-life circumstances
gleaned from our collective reality. For, in Irwin Allen’s genuine love of the
disaster epic and his unrelenting zeal to make two of the finest contributions
to its repertoire, The Towering Inferno
remains an immersive and impressive achievement on par with the greatest artistry yet achieved on the movie screen. It is the ‘Gone With the Wind’ or ‘Citizen
Kane’ of its genre and ilk.
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 extremely terrifying to pull off,
getting up close and personal with old man fire. Time-honored as well as new
techniques in layering stunt men and women with protective clothing coated in
highly flammable and slow-burning liquids created the uncanny effect of setting
real human flesh afire. One of the most impressive aspects of The Towering Inferno is that, apart
from a few superbly blended matte shots and extremely clever usage of
miniatures, virtually all of the visuals are accomplished full scale; the fire
cleverly ‘controlled’ using a series
of regulated gas jets and flame throwers to direct the flames while keeping the
actors safe.
For the flooding
of the tower’s rooftop Promenade Room, Irwin Allen had his production designer,
William J. Creber design an elaborate set, built and raised several feet off
the floor within one of Fox’s cavernous sound stages. This was surrounded by a
360 degree backlit cyclorama of the San Franciscan skyline; the entire interior
framed overhead by an elaborate rigging and dump tanks capable of dropping
nearly a million gallons of water. While Creber’s designs were heavily
influenced by what passed for uber-contemporary chic good taste then, the
Promenade Room also borrowed many of its props and furniture from the Harmonia
Gardens interior built for Hello Dolly!
(1969). Keen eyes will immediately identify the elaborate and multi-tiered
fountains, herein transformed into oversized terrariums, complete with plastic
foliage, and the lattice work encircling the layered ballroom, also with statuary
adorning the top of its bar: all of it, relics from John DeCuir’s 14th
Street exteriors for Dolly!. The shame of it is all this Hollywood craftsmanship was destroyed
by both flames and the flash flooding during the climatic deluge.
The Towering Inferno remains a singularly sobering experience
today, perhaps because it does not spare its star-studded ensemble from the probability
not all will make it out alive. Indeed, too few do, adding a curious patina of
sincerity to these life and death scenarios played out with arguably greater
satisfaction from the vantage of our more jaded contemporary tastes. If only made a decade earlier, the likelihood
of survival amongst this celebrity sect would have been considerably higher. As
it stands, about half this glittering assemblage will die cruelly – arguably, realistically
– due to the absurd cost-cutting measures employed by a pair of ambitious men,
merely to satisfy their bottom line; multi-billionaire/builder, Jim Duncan
(William Holden) and his arrogantly 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 a complicity pawn in the
disaster about to unfold, simply by choosing to remain largely absent during
the glass tower’s construction phase. It is this neglect that gnaws at Doug,
turning to Duncan after narrowly surviving a ruptured gas main, to coldly
inquire with clear-eyed, bitter irony, “What
do they call it when you kill people?”
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 – fake company; Robert Vaughn’s cordial Senator Gary Parker,
plotting his political advantage in sharing in Duncan’s success as part of his
‘urban renewal’ contract; Susan Blakley’s suffering newlywed, Patty – Duncan’s
daughter and Roger’s conflicted wife; Faye Dunaway, as Doug’s paramour, Susan
Franklin, torn between a budding career as a senior editor and her devotion to
this brilliant man; O.J. Simpson’s
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 who sincerely worry how their
teenage daughter – left at home – will manage without them…should it come to
that. Sterling Silliphant’s screenplay astutely tracks all these dramatic
threads as our starry-eyed ensemble navigate through the rigors and perils of
this fiery labyrinth.
Paul Newman’s
Doug Roberts must rank among his finest performances; a minor curiosity, given Newman’s
relative dearth in memorable dialogue. In its place, Silliphant’s screenplay
affords Doug a spectacular amount of amateur theatrics, exercising Newman’s
chest-thumping virility. In some ways, it is a flashier role than the one
afforded Steve McQueen. At age 49, Newman illustrates an uncannily youthful
agility, pulling off a ferocious he-man half his years, scaling dilapidated
fire escapes and dodging the white hot flames licking at his heels. However, playing
love interest to Faye Dunaway could not have been easy. Like Judy Garland
before her, Dunaway was notorious for crippling bouts of stage fright
anxieties. Frequently, she kept costars waiting, in the process infuriating
co-star, William Holden, who considered her behavior the height of
unprofessionalism. However, Dunaway could be opinionated too. Initially, she
fought director, John Guillermin on a ‘love scene’ in which she appears in only
a scant pair of 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 as Fire Chief, Mike O'Hallorhan. McQueen,
noted for his competitive nature, particularly when pitted against other great
talents he admired, insisted on co-star billing above the title – his name
registering just slightly higher than Newman’s in the title credits. McQueen
also ordered his fire chief’s insignia to be remade oversized in order to stand
out from the other similarly attired firemen. Guillermin had been wary of what
testosterone-infused ego might rear its ugly head as McQueen and Newman
gathered together for the first time. Alas, neither had anything to fear;
McQueen and Newman instantly bonding as the best of friends; McQueen slightly
in awe of Newman’s reigning star presence and Newman fairly congenial and
unassuming. In point of fact, Newman, McQueen and Dunaway could frequently be
found sharing hearty laughs in between takes; Dunaway mildly amused as both men
playfully competed to ‘impress’ her with a series of increasingly off-color
jokes.
For seriousness,
The Towering Inferno would rely
mostly on Irwin Allen and John Guillermin, sharing directorial credit. The
powers that be at Fox and Warner Bros. had insisted on Guillermin – a name they
believed possessed more experience to helm such a costly production. In trade,
Allen would direct the fire sequences and be allowed creative input on the rest
of the movie. The Towering Inferno might
never have come about had both studios not acquired similarly themed novels
about a skyscraper going up in flames; with pivotal plot points from Richard
Martin Stern’s The Tower and Thomas N. Scortia’s The Glass Inferno
combined in Stirling Silliphant’s superbly amalgamated screenplay. Fox and
Warner’s decision to join forces on a single venture proved extremely profitable
for all concerned, as well as establishing a precedence for co-production; The Towering Inferno grossing more than
$116,000,000
in the U.S. alone on its ‘then’ epic $14 million dollar 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 interval insertions of nondescript extras, decrying the lack
of fire preparedness drills becoming a pivotal point, blatantly over-exaggerated
in the sequence where Doug and Lisolette discover a turned over wheelbarrow of
congealed cement in a stairwell, the mess blocking their escape into the
Promenade Room. The notion of the skyscraper itself, begun as a uniquely
American – and arguably, Freudian – symbol of progress, is herein subverted;
the phallus turning on its creators. But
behind the scenes Irwin Allen transformed the filming of The Towering Inferno into a social event on par with the very best
junket and marketing his own creative genius for press and promotion could buy.
For starters, he housed his formidable cast in lavishly appointed bungalows
adjacent the sound stage, encouraging a sense of community and interaction. Co-star,
Richard Chamberlain has recalled the sheer excitement generated by these closed
quarters, being in the presence of Fred Astaire and William Holden, both of
whom he greatly admired. Apart from Holden losing his temper with Faye Dunaway’s
repeated ‘tardiness’, which forced Allen to do double duty as both a director
and star-wrangler to smooth over the rough edges, filming on The Towering Inferno progressed without
incident.
The Towering Inferno opens with a breathtaking series
of aerial shots; a helicopter emblazoned with the logo for Duncan Enterprises
flying low across the southern Californian landscape, passing over exotic windswept
beaches, lush green hilly countryside and flying through a spectacular
roadblock of fluffy white clouds, emerging on the other side as we approach the
Golden Gate Bridge. From this bird’s eye view, architect, Doug Roberts (Paul Newman)
surveys the cosmopolitan panorama of San Franciscan skyscrapers, the
centerpiece of the city’s hub, his newly built glass tower (actually a
convincing matte painting). Landing on its’ roof, Doug is met by the builder, James
Duncan (William Holden), grinning with the Cheshire’s share of pride. Jim
implores Doug to reconsider his decision to retire at the peak of his powers. However,
Doug remains steadfast in his pursuit of a quieter life, jokingly telling 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 silken
sheeted pull-out bed. Doug has assumed Susan plans to accompany him to the
country. Alas, she has been offered a promotion at work, one that pits her
dreams against Doug’s. This awkward crux in their reunion is momentarily
interrupted by news of a small electrical fire in the buildings main
generator’s utility room; an ominous prelude to the impending disaster. For on
the 81st floor a utility box suddenly 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 has already begun. Curiously, the automated direct prompt to the fire
department has not kicked in, creating minor confusion as to whether or not a
fire is already in progress.
Meanwhile, PR
man, Dan Bigelow (Robert Wagner) arrives in Duncan’s office to discover Doug
and his right-hand man, Will Giddings (Normann Burton) already engaged in a
heated debate. Having inspected the wiring in one of the building’s utility
rooms, Doug realizes his design specs have not been met. 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 the
source instead, cordially greeted by Roger’s wife, Patty (Susan Blakely) who
has already begun to suspect she has entered into a bad marriage. Roger and
Doug have words. We now return to the
tower, introduced to Lisolette Muir (Jennifer Jones) finishing a painting
lesson with two young protégées; Phillip (Mike Lookinland – a.k.a. TV’s Bobby
Brady) and Angela Allbright (Carlena Gower) who, 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 that evening, her date, Harlee Claiborne
(Fred Astaire), a benign con artist unable to bring himself to be devious in the
face of true love; particularly 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 lives and scenarios. From here,
we move into the movie’s main oeuvre – the fire; trapping Dan Bigalow in a
clandestine last minute romantic rendezvous with his secretary, Lorrie (Susan
Flannery); the couple 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 attempt an escape and rescue. He is consumed by the
flames as Lorrie helplessly looks on; a blast of fresh air forcing Lorrie to
her death through a shattered window.
With Chief Mike O'Hallorhan’s (Steve McQueen) arrival, the situation
takes on a grimmer 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 the nearby
elevator shafts and killing a car-full of guests in their evacuation; one
ill-fated soul managing to return the car full of burning corpses to the
Promenade Room before collapsing in a fiery heap and shell-shocking the rest of
the guests.
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 making 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 from whence they
came. 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 placing 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 on 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. In a last ditch effort to save the remaining guests,
O’Hallorhan is air-lifted to the roof of the tower 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 Carlos (Gregory Sierra), an
ever-loyal bartender, is crushed beneath a piece of weighty collapsed sculpture.
Harlee, Duncan, Doug and O’Hallorhan survive; Harlee made to endure 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 design until architects
collaborate with those who understand firsthand the perils of fire. 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.
The Towering Inferno remains the granddaddy of all disaster
epics. Few since have veered very far – if, at all – from its formulaic
narrative structure, in retrospect, something of a cliché; using ‘star’
personalities to intertwine fictional lives, further complicated by the
introduction of an external tragedy, man-made or natural. Irwin Allen cleverly
preys upon a fundamental fear. Even under today’s highly critical and jaundice-eyed
scrutiny, The Towering Inferno holds
up amazingly, both for its full-scale and miniaturized special effects and for
its storytelling prowess. We pause a moment herein to doff our caps to screenwriter,
Stirling Silliphant; his script, void of maudlin accoutrements and sentimentality.
Silliphant’s concision, also his ability to introduce and distinguish each
character memorably, before focusing on their collective self-preservation has
become something of a template in the disaster/drama subgenre.
There is also
the cast to consider: Irwin Allen cribbing from the best in the business and
working in a time when it was still possible to glean expertise from golden-age
stars, instinctually in touch with their craft.
Real talent never dies. It merely ages like wine; in most cases, of a
very fine and rare vintage. The Towering
Inferno immensely benefits from these presences; particularly, William
Holden, Paul Newman and Steve McQueen; each, a very tough act to follow. There
are no comparable stars to these aforementioned three in American cinema today,
partly due to the industry’s shift away from nurturing any actor with a
life-long career of opportunities; also, because today’s talent is not molded
under the rigors and study of a system designed with their best interests at
heart. But of course, the real star in The
Towering Inferno is the fire – credibly ignited using various techniques,
including the simplest – incinerating a set designed and treated with slow
burning, though highly flammable materials, made even more palpably frightening
by some highly skilled stunt work set before the engaging special effects.
Virtually all exteriors of the monolithic glass tower were meticulously crafted
models, made in various sizes. Interiors were an amalgam of location shooting
in downtown San Francisco 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 design of most contemporary skyscrapers has
remained the same. The same cannot be said of Ward Preston’s art direction, a
curious amalgam of then contemporary seventies chic meets the rather
out-of-touch turn of the century Victorian accoutrements borrowed from the sets
of Hello Dolly!, nor Paul
Zastupnevich’s costuming with its penchant for flouncy men’s dress shirts and
red or brown velvet tuxedoes. Nevertheless, all of these excesses lend an air
of nostalgia to this rather enjoyably – if slightly goony – time capsule, with
Faye Dunaway’s risqué beige silk ball gown (basically two strips of fabric
running vertically from her neck to her waistline and exposing a considerable
amount of flesh between her breasts) keeping pace with the exotic green Versace
silk chiffon number, Jennifer Lopez would wear in the year 2000 to the 42nd
Grammy Awards. Did one style influence the other? Hmmm. Does it matter…except to illustrate Dunaway –
not Lopez – as the real trend-setter?
The Towering Inferno remains a must see
movie, not only from its time, but arguably, for all time. Allen encouraged
Silliphant to come down hard on the then prevailing standards of an outdated
building code; also, to be highly critical of the moral ethics that allow
contractors to quietly cut corners instead of floors on their costs. Last, but
certainly not least of all, The Towering
Inferno is noteworthy for one of composer, John Williams’ memorable early
scores, 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 the film only a few bars were sung by a rather listless
Carol Lynley. 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 times and tastes. It remains an A-list entertainment likely to
resonate with audiences for many more years yet to come.
Fox Home
Video’s Blu-Ray easily bests its deluxe DVD from 2000. The sumptuousness of
70’s DeLuxe color has been reproduced with impressive clarity and virtually no
untoward digital tinkering. Flesh tones are accurately rendered. This 1080p
transfer really shows off the meticulous high key lighting in Fred J.
Koenekamp’s 70mm cinematography. The image is so crisp and free of age-related
artifacts it belies the age of its source material. Likewise, the original
3-channel Westrex stereo has been given an aggressively appointed 5.1 Dolby
Tru-HD lossless update. With slight and understandable limitations in its
vintage fidelity, this new sound mix brings to life the SFX and John Williams’
pulse-pounding score. Extras have all been ported over from the lavishly
appointed 2-disc Cinema Classics Collector’s Edition DVD and include a
comprehensive audio commentary that fills up virtually all of the 170 min. run
time with insightful background stories illustrated by F.X. Feeney and special
effects director, Mike Venzina, also, stunt coordinator, Branko Racki.
A
retrospective looks at the film and brief bio on Irwin Allen follow,
accompanied by shorts dedicated to the stunts and special effects. There’s also
a truncated AMC original documentary: Backstory – The Towering Inferno,
plus a litany of extended scenes, outtakes and alternates. The original
theatrical trailer is also included. Slightly disappointing: while Fox produced
a beautiful collector’s packaging for the DVD, complete with a reprint of the
original premiere booklet and several lobby cards, virtually none of these have
made their way to the Blu-ray packaging. What we have here is bare bones.
Parting thoughts: The Towering Inferno
is an exceptional testament to the showmanship of Irwin Allen. Just don’t
expect to get a good night’s sleep after you’ve seen it – particularly if you
live in a high rise. Highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
4.5
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