How to Blow Up a Pipeline (2022)

I heard a great deal about How to Blow Up a Pipeline before watching; after seeing it, I'm honestly surprised I hadn't heard more. The film is ambitious in ways you rarely see in any genre, let alone heist movies. I haven't read the nonfiction book it's inspired by, but based on what I've been able to gleam from the internet, it seems the source material was intended as a manifesto endorsing property damage as a response to climate change - in short, a defense of ecoterrorism. I don't think it's a stretch to say the movie sets out with the same goal: this seems to want to be a sort of manifesto, and the methods it endorses, while notably measured and meticulously dissected within the narrative, are violent in nature (though it should be noted the target of said violence is always property, never human life).

I'm sure the above is going to be a dealbreaker for a lot of people - I'm spelling this out up front to serve as a sort of content warning. This isn't following the rules of a Hollywood production, and its message isn't watered down or sanitized. Instead, the movie is both a reflection of the very real rage and fear felt by a generation grappling with the existential threat posed by climate change, as well as a call to action to impede the causes of that threat by more or less any means necessary.

I'm neither going to endorse or condemn the methods this movie advocates - all that's a little outside the purview of a Christmas movie site - but understanding what the film is setting out to do is essential in considering whether or not it's successful as a work of art. And, in that regard and others, I think How to Blow Up a Pipeline is a phenomenal film destined to become a sort of bible for campus environmental groups and others fed up of waiting for politicians and corporations to permit change to occur.

The movie's narrative centers on a group of ecoterrorists - a label they ultimately embrace - building bombs and carrying out an elaborate plan to destroy a Texas oil pipeline while minimizing environmental impact and avoiding casualties. The characters come from diverse backgrounds and have very differing motives and goals, all of which are gradually revealed in flashbacks throughout the runtime.

Before I start spoiling what some of those are, let's pause for our mandatory spoiler warning, because this is a very well constructed, resonant, tense thriller emerging from a genuine emotional response to a terrifying reality. It's a very realistic, very current story with the impact of a post-apocalyptic thriller (because, you know, that's kind of where things are right now). Whether you think the methods the movie endorses are counterproductive or rational, the point-of-view they encapsulate is that of a generation facing a dying world. In short, this is great art, and it deserves to experienced. If this sounds like something you might enjoy, this is where you should stop reading and start watching.

The group's de facto leader, Xochitl, is largely reacting to the death of her mother following a heat wave. Despite this, she's ultimately revealed to be the most hopeful, as she believes her actions could have a meaningful impact, and she's willing to sacrifice her own future for the cause - though we won't discover this until the very end, as the final pieces of the plan play out.

Theo, meanwhile, has no future left to sacrifice. She's dying of cancer as a result of being exposed to pollution as a child, and she's driven by a mix of anger and a desire to give her death meaning. Theo's girlfriend, Alisha, comes along, as well, though she's far more reluctant than the others. Alisha is here for Theo, not the cause, and she understandably resents having to give up the last days with her girlfriend.

Shawn, a progressive filmmaker, serves as a sort of POV character driven by frustration. They're also joined by Michael, a Native American activist whose outlook borders on nihilism: he more or less spells out that he's here to destroy, not to build. Meanwhile, Dwayne feels like the odd man out: he's a Christian with a family who owns the property the group is fighting to free from the pipeline. The movie codes him as libertarian, as opposed to the progressive activists and college kids.

Speaking of progressives, Rowen and Logan are introduced as wildcards. The movie plays coy with their motives, saving their flashbacks for late in the film and implying they're feeding information to the FBI. "Implying" is an understatement: we're shown Rowen send a text and take pictures, so we know she's in communication with someone. Eventually, we learn she was arrested at a protest in Portland and is facing a sizable prison term if she doesn't cooperate.

But all that's a fake-out. She's double-crossing the feds, and it's all part of the plan. She's feeding the FBI inaccurate dates and is concealing the involvement of everyone other than Xochitl and Theo, who allow themselves to be captured after the pipeline is destroyed in order to serve as a public face on the movement.

The movie's closing moments show us a montage of the characters dealing with the aftermath. Xochitl is in jail, and Theo passes away. The others seem to have gotten away with it, though there's some ambiguity on that front: the movie makes it clear they're all at the very least going to be looking over their shoulders. Meanwhile, we're shown other groups are inspired to carry out similar acts elsewhere.

The movie is notable for its willingness to explore the moral complexity of its issues, honestly addressing the consequences, dangers, and potential collateral damage involved. The message is ultimately that the sheer scale of the climate crisis necessitates extreme measures, but it doesn't pretend any of this is cut and dry.

Oh, and it's set at Christmas.

Okay, let's back up. The movie mentions the holiday in passing early on, literally in the form of Dwayne's wife telling him he needs to be back in time for Christmas. After this, there's virtually no reference to the holidays for the bulk of the runtime aside from the occasional string of lights, which are usually turned off. It's not until Dwayne goes into a bar to ensure he has an alibi when the explosives go off that we see significant decorations.

That establishes this as the rare case of a movie set around Christmas where the holiday's role is severely muted, acting as a sort of distant background element, rather than an ever-present framing device. Between that, the fact it's a heist, and the unrelentingly tense tone, I'm reminded of Ronin more than anything else (though in most other regards they're very different films).

How to Blow Up a Pipeline isn't something most people would consider a Christmas movie. I think there's a case to be made the Christmas timing may have been incidental - perhaps driven by the movie's production schedule necessitating a winter shoot, with Christmas being a convenient explanation for it being cold in Texas.

That said, the timing accomplishes a couple thematic and narrative beats worth exploring. The story hinges on the audience understanding that climate change isn't a typical political issue but rather a threat to our civilization, humanity, and the world as we know it. Christmas and New Years have a long history of serving as a symbol for the boundary of an era, a sort of impending deadline.

The other use I noticed was a somewhat unusual spin on leveraging the holidays as juxtaposition. Typically, this is done by heavily focusing on decorative holiday elements, then contrasting them with violence, horror, or tragedy. How to Blow Up a Pipeline, on the other hand, downplays the holidays throughout (even when lights are strung up, they're usually not turned on), until the ending. When Dwayne walks into a bar, the holiday lights and colors are glaringly apparent - the contrast between the war the characters have been waging and the conventional world he steps into is jarring. The interior of the bar feels like a fantasy world, while the battle to protect the planet feels like reality. It's a powerful effect.

Again, I have no idea whether this was intended or merely a happy accident. The fact a movie about the dangers of global warming is set in winter makes for a fascinating wrinkle with several advantages (it effectively negates the tired notion that the existence of cold weather contradicts the reality of the climate crisis), but I suspect the filmmakers could have managed an equally impactful story using the harsh summer heat as a reminder of the dangers being addressed. This was, after all, a low budget production with numerous limitations.

Not that you'd know to look at it. The movie is brilliantly edited in ways that ratchet up tension and turn limitations into assets. The movie achieves more with well timed flashbacks and cuts than expensive visual effects could ever manage. And what money this did have was well utilized on a handful of convincing explosions.

This is, again, a great film. It's also somewhat unique among Christmas movies (or, movies set at Christmas, if you prefer that designation). It uses the holidays in unusual ways to fascinating effect... though let's not kid ourselves here: that's not really part of the conversation as to why this is an incredible, important piece of art.

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