Mark Reviews Movies: REBUILDING PARADISE

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | July 30, 2020

The morning of November 8, 2018 was like any other in the town of Paradise, California. People went off to work. Children went off to school. By the end of the harrowing prologue of Rebuilding Paradise, the entirety of the town, save for the dead or rescue workers, has been evacuated. A wildfire has spread through almost the whole of it, and even though it's still morning, it looks of darkest night. The massive plume of smoke has entirely blocked out the sun.

Director Ron Howard shows all of this through a collection of on-site video footage—captured by cellphone and, dashboard cameras, as well as audio from 9-1-1 calls. It is terrifying. The fire spreads so far and so quickly. Flames writhe on the few roads out of town. The heat is so intense that people cannot even touch the windows of their cars as they flee. People pass by the homes of people they know and can only hope. A police officer drives by his own house, calls in that it's on fire, and begins sobbing.

After the rescue and recovery efforts had finished, the official death toll was 85 people. For the next year, the survivors would find temporary shelter in the area, move whatever they had left to a more permanent situation away from town, or wait for word that they could return to Paradise and rebuild. Some of them, we know, are still waiting.

Despite the horror of the extended opening montage and the constant frustration with how slowly bureaucracy moves under such difficult circumstances, Howard's film is an optimistic one, if only because the slightest amount of hope seems to shine all the brighter in the gloom of such devastation. We watch and listen as people share their stories, their frustrations (especially with the electric company that caused the fire), their grief, their trauma, and their multiple uncertainties about the present and future.

That's the least anyone can do in such situations. Confronted with slow-moving government action at all levels and a negligent company that seems more willing to evade than take responsibility, being genuinely heard by at least someone, though, must seem like a revolutionary act of kindness.

That might be why these people are so honest about everything. As viscerally unsettling as the footage of the fire is, there is something almost as emotionally upsetting in seeing and hearing how the survivors have been left behind. There is almost too much blame to be passed around, from the electric company that let century-old technology remain in place without any apparent concern for its functionality or the inevitable hazards, to the federal government's delayed response (Howard includes a clip of the sitting President—forgotten after incalculable mistakes and displays of overt cruelty—getting the name of the town wrong), to the undeniable fact of climate change.

Experts on wildfires point out that the spread of "the Camp Fire," as it was called based on the location of its origin, was the result of a perfect storm of young trees, winds, draught, and increased temperatures. That doesn't excuse the obvious, legally concluded negligence of the power company, but it definitely spreads the blame in ways that, as a species, we are not likely to accept in the near future. The film's ending, another montage of devastation but around the globe, is a stark and depressing reminder that we'll be paying the price for our ignorance and inaction for years or decades to come—if we survive that long.

To be clear, the film isn't a screed about politics or climate science, but the argument, unavoidable in this particular conversation, is present. Even though that's not Howard's primary goal, the case is more convincing because of the director's actual aim. He wants us to see how just a few hours—the consequence of a year or more of specific climate conditions and of a century of neglect and of an era of reckless industrial growth with little to no oversight or foresight—can interrupt and destroy the lives of people just trying to go about a seemingly ordinary Thursday.

The people matter most here, as they escape from certain death into years of uncertainty. We meet many of these survivors—at least the ones who have decided to stay near Paradise with the hopes of returning one day—and stay with a handful of them. A former mayor of the town, whose own history—from "town drunk" to elected government official—is one of unexpected growth that hopefully will belong to Paradise in the future, helps to bring the community together while working to get a permit to rebuild his home. The superintendent of schools has to keep track of students, now spread all over the area, while waiting to see if there will be enough kids remaining to re-open the local schools.

A school psychologist, whose house survived (She wonders if it's really a home anymore), has put off plans to start her own family, because the doctor, along with everyone else, worries about the contaminated water supply. As for the police officer who witnessed his house burning, he organizes community events, even as his wife confides to the camera that she feels as if he is neglecting her and their children.

None of this is easy (It has, apparently, not become better under our current health crisis, which is a cloud hanging over all of this), but within Howard's dedication to show just how difficult the act of rebuilding a home and a life is, there is hope in Rebuilding Paradise. As long as there is a world in which to move and live, people can move forward in this life.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products