After 25 years, "The China Syndrome" still has the capacity to scare us toward a safer form of energy production.
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When "The China Syndrome" was released in 1979, America was embroiled in a debate over nuclear energy. Protesters went up against powerful utility companies to try to halt the spread of nuclear power plants, for which there hadn't been a carefully reasoned plan to deal with radioactive wastes or to ensure plant safety. Until it was explained in the film, nobody in America except nuclear power insiders knew what the title meant. "The China Syndrome" refers to a worst-case scenario where the core of a nuclear reactor becomes exposed and, without water to cool it, "melts down," accelerating into an explosive chain reaction that goes downward, all the way to China, releasing a cloud of deadly radiation at the site. Before "The China Syndrome" was made, nuclear power plant worker Karen Silkwood was killed in a mysterious car accident as she tried to blow the whistle on a plant for continuing to operate when serious defects existed that might cause such a disaster. But her story wouldn't be told until 1983, when Meryl Streep starred in "Silkwood."
"The China Syndrome" was the first film to deal with the issue of nuclear safety, and just two and a half weeks after the prophetic film opened, America experienced a near-meltdown at Three Mile Island. Yet, 25 years later, little has changed. Utility companies still petition to build new plants, Congress still argues over what to do with a literal mountain of nuclear waste, and activists continue protesting while holding their breaths that we won't have a China Syndrome disaster as they did at Chernobyl. Maybe that's why "The China Syndrome" is still as taut of a thriller as it was in 1979.
Jack Lemmon gives a very "unlemmony" but still powerful performance as nuclear power plant supervisor Jack Godell (Go tell? Is there a better name for a whistleblower?)—a performance which would earn him an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor. Jane Fonda was nominated for Best Actress for her performance as TV fluff reporter Kimberly Wells, who yearns to report hard news at a time when women newscasters were little more than eye candy. But things heat up when she and her cameraman, Richard Adams (Michael Douglas) go to the local power plant to film what was supposed to have been another light PR piece featuring a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the gargantuan machinery. What they see, though, scares the pants off of them. Watching the control room from a bullet-proof glass-enclosed observation walkway, they witness an accident that causes the entire building to vibrate. Later, Godell and his assistant, Ted Spindler (Wilford Brimley), try to pass it off as a "routine turbine trip," but Wells and Adams know better. They saw genuine fear in the men's eyes and the relief when their corrections stopped the water level from sinking further and exposing the core. What's more, they have proof. Adams secretly had his camera running as he held it waist-high. Eventually, Godell gives in and agrees to go public, but the explosive footage and their attempts to bring the information to the attentions of nuclear regulatory hearings and to try to convince KXLA to run the story, ends up drawing them all into a multi-pronged conspiracy to silence them. Douglas, fresh from his triumphant debut producing "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," puts together another top-notch cast and fuses two nuclear disaster scripts to make one tense wake-up film—the domestic version of "Failsafe," really.
Though Seventies' and Eighties' fashions can often make a drama now look unintentionally comedic, that doesn't happen here, mostly because there's just one "watering hole" scene, and it's a neighborhood tavern rather than an after-hours dance club full of hairy chests and gold chains. There are a few "kittenish" scenes where Wells is patronized by the males who work around her, but precious else besides this obvious gender time warp diverts viewers' attention from the drama at hand. Another thing that can date a film from this era is the pacing, which, at worst, can feel as lazy as a leisure suit. But again, that doesn't happen as much here, because Douglas and director James Bridges follow the formula for thrillers featuring monsters—the monster in this case being a menacing piece of nuclear machinery that threatens to run as amok as if it were the Blob. And the film also operates in the tradition of "The Manchurian Candidate" and other espionage thrillers, where sinister forces shadow and ultimately chase the good guys. In retrospect, it's that blend of two genres that saves "The China Syndrome" from the slower pacing that can now seem tedious to generations of film lovers raised on MTV and mind-blowing CGI special effects. "The China Syndrome" doesn't have the breakneck speed or forward hurtling sense of visual vertigo that accompanies thrillers these days, but it still moves at a pace that allows even today's ADD audiences to become drawn into the drama. What action there is in this 122-minute film becomes all the more potent because there isn't a chase or a threat in every single frame. And the performances? Fonda and Lemmon are able to convey real and significant character development as it goes through subtle stages of transformation. Look for Mohammed Ali's daughter in a small part as one of the nuclear power plant workers.
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