(“It’s not easy sharing your man with the fire,” sighs Amanda.) Only the Brave alternates between fire-fighting scenes and the bits in between, building to the big, tragic blaze that’s the reason why this tale became a movie in the first place. Then there’s the fire (lots of fires, but also the fire as an adversary, a nemesis), viewed, inevitably, as a female to be mastered: “Bitch kicked your ass, huh?” the firemen say to each other. “If you’re lookin’ for sympathy,” says Jeff Bridges, doing a variation on his wily sheriff from Hell or High Water, “you’ll find it in the dictionary, somewhere between ‘shit’ and ‘syphilis’.” Mostly, however, these are classic cowboy types (Amanda wryly asks Eric if he’d like to talk or would rather do “your John Wayne thing”), uneasy with too much emotion, firmly believing that a man should take care of himself. There are limits, to be sure: Brendan (Miles Teller) is the new guy and Mac (Taylor Kitsch) makes a crack about his ex-girlfriend, the mother of his child Brendan is pulled off by the others when he lunges angrily – but Mac is also cautioned, told that hazing the new guy is one thing but insulting his family is “way out of line”. They pitch horseshoes and do push-ups, and have contests to see who can open a bottle of beer with a chainsaw. The firefighters tease and rag each other in between fighting fires.
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