In the baking heat of the west Texas desert, a young man is making a bomb. Hands trembling, sweat fogging his goggles, he slowly assembles the explosive. A knife-blade of powder is painstakingly poured into a tiny tube. Wires are shakily glued together. With infinite care, the delicate, deadly contraption takes shape. Outside the tin shack where this is all unfolding, another young man paces, remembering his friend’s instructions: “Don’t come in unless I tell you to. Unless you see fire.” He looks as if he’s about to be sick. The audience knows how he feels.
This is the tense setup at the heart of How to Blow Up a Pipeline, a propulsive, nerve-jangling thriller about eight young people who want to send a message about the urgency of the climate crisis by sabotaging an oil pipeline. The film takes its cues from its heroes: aiming to excite audiences into action instead of hectoring them into submission. It is one hell of a ride. After its premiere at Toronto last year, the New York Times pronounced How to Blow Up a Pipeline “a cultural landmark” for its sympathetic take on eco-terrorism, while the Washington City Paper described its youthful cast as “a much more intense, combustible version of The Breakfast Club”.
