Ticket Stubs #31: Apocalypse Two Days From Now
FROM October 29, 2004 (SW@ Ticket #22: Apocalypse Two Days From Now): Disaster movies abound in today's world, from the updated Japanese monster classic Godzilla and the Katina-inspiring alien apocalypse of Independence Day to the cheesy acting, overblown cheap effects, quality cast, and idiotic plot of The Core. The director of the two films in column A brings us something akin to the crap in column B.
Dennis Quaid and Jake Gyllenhaal star in The Day After Tomorrow, a "subtle" political argument against global warming (as the free-speechers at SDSU say, "would you like to sign a petition for Green Peace?") disguised--almost--as a disaster flick. Quaid is a paleoclimatologist (a weatherman for the Flinstones, to be non-SW@) and consequent tree-hugger who discovers that the earth is scheduled for a new Ice Age in the next 48 hours because (possible slippery slope fallacy, but it could happen) chunks of ice the size of Rhode Island are being melted off of Antarctica, changing the salt content and temperature of ocean water, messing up the current directions, and causing severe and unusual weather patterns. Tornados in LA, baseball-sized hail in Japan, hurricane-shaped blizzard formations around the globe, and international floods are just a few.
Gyllenhaal is Quaid's lazy supergenius son (thankfully not trying to kill himself like he did in Donnie Darko and The Good Girl) who gets stuck in New York, where ships are cruising the streets in 50 feet or so of flood water, previously caged timberwolves are later running wild on 50 feet or so of frozen flood water, and anyone who goes outside freezes to death instantly. Great action and drama as the characters run from the wolves and the freezing eye of the blizzard, great comedy on an airplane as turbulence shakes luggage from the overhead compartments but fails to trigger oxygen masks until the turbulence stops, and great scenes of the apocalyptic damage. I've spoiled enough good things for you, so I'll leave the special effects for you to judge.
As I say, on to the crap: the drama is great until someone opens their mouth and says something in a completely cheesy tone of voice that is somewhere between the un-personality of Ben Affleck and the utter blondeness of porn dialogue (which is the upper bound and which is the lower bound is something else I'll leave for you to judge).
The subtle argument is so not subtle that Quaid, a crew of astronauts, and a homeless guy are equally concerned about the environment, and so not an argument as to make the point of the movie pointless. Worth a look, but not worth a listen.
C-
Quote of the Week: "The day after tomorrow is the third day of the rest of your life." -George Carlin
Now that's something to consider.
Well, Ticketholders, it would seem Dennis Quaid's Hollywood-fabricated brand of science (not to be confused with Tom Cruise's Hollywood-fabricated brand of science, which was actually fabricated by Phillip Seymour Hoffman--all hail The Master) was right; if not about the suddenness with which our planet is going to Hell at our hands, or the exact cause, then at least about the scale of the Hell we are building up to.
This week, the East Coast was ravaged by Sandy--an innocuously named storm of such scale and wrath that it earned the surname of "Superstorm," rather than letting us fool ourselves with the usual "Hurricane" tag. Parts of New Jersey and New York suffered such extensive damage that if not for the tall buildings and Snooki impersonators, they could have easily been confused with the usual tropical storm punching bags, Florida and Louisiana.
True, we have yet to see the Statue of Liberty poking out of frozen floodwaters like some beached relic from The Planet Of the Apes, no rabid pack animals roam our streets in search of the elusive McDonalds addict, and we are not yet at risk of freezing to death in mega-blizzards or dying in a fiery crash aboard an airplane with ironically faulty safety mechanisms. But Superstorm Sandy can be considered the closest thing to a fair warning from the man upstairs as you can get.
Don't just donate to relief efforts or delude yourselves into a state of false environmental friendliness by wasting your money on gluten-free wheat, meat-free bacon, pesticide-free Raid, dairy-free milk, and carbon-free gasoline like you usually do. Conserve energy every way you can; take advantage of utility company discounts, buy solar panels if you can afford them, stock up on batteries if you can't. Or just go Amish and you won't have to bother with awful disaster movies like the one reviewed above. Either way, the ozone layer needs a break, people; it doesn't need to break.
Stay tuned next issue as Just the Ticket steps back into the limelight to bring you something truly amazing.
Gyllenhaal is Quaid's lazy supergenius son (thankfully not trying to kill himself like he did in Donnie Darko and The Good Girl) who gets stuck in New York, where ships are cruising the streets in 50 feet or so of flood water, previously caged timberwolves are later running wild on 50 feet or so of frozen flood water, and anyone who goes outside freezes to death instantly. Great action and drama as the characters run from the wolves and the freezing eye of the blizzard, great comedy on an airplane as turbulence shakes luggage from the overhead compartments but fails to trigger oxygen masks until the turbulence stops, and great scenes of the apocalyptic damage. I've spoiled enough good things for you, so I'll leave the special effects for you to judge.
As I say, on to the crap: the drama is great until someone opens their mouth and says something in a completely cheesy tone of voice that is somewhere between the un-personality of Ben Affleck and the utter blondeness of porn dialogue (which is the upper bound and which is the lower bound is something else I'll leave for you to judge).
The subtle argument is so not subtle that Quaid, a crew of astronauts, and a homeless guy are equally concerned about the environment, and so not an argument as to make the point of the movie pointless. Worth a look, but not worth a listen.
C-
Quote of the Week: "The day after tomorrow is the third day of the rest of your life." -George Carlin
Now that's something to consider.
Well, Ticketholders, it would seem Dennis Quaid's Hollywood-fabricated brand of science (not to be confused with Tom Cruise's Hollywood-fabricated brand of science, which was actually fabricated by Phillip Seymour Hoffman--all hail The Master) was right; if not about the suddenness with which our planet is going to Hell at our hands, or the exact cause, then at least about the scale of the Hell we are building up to.
This week, the East Coast was ravaged by Sandy--an innocuously named storm of such scale and wrath that it earned the surname of "Superstorm," rather than letting us fool ourselves with the usual "Hurricane" tag. Parts of New Jersey and New York suffered such extensive damage that if not for the tall buildings and Snooki impersonators, they could have easily been confused with the usual tropical storm punching bags, Florida and Louisiana.
True, we have yet to see the Statue of Liberty poking out of frozen floodwaters like some beached relic from The Planet Of the Apes, no rabid pack animals roam our streets in search of the elusive McDonalds addict, and we are not yet at risk of freezing to death in mega-blizzards or dying in a fiery crash aboard an airplane with ironically faulty safety mechanisms. But Superstorm Sandy can be considered the closest thing to a fair warning from the man upstairs as you can get.
Don't just donate to relief efforts or delude yourselves into a state of false environmental friendliness by wasting your money on gluten-free wheat, meat-free bacon, pesticide-free Raid, dairy-free milk, and carbon-free gasoline like you usually do. Conserve energy every way you can; take advantage of utility company discounts, buy solar panels if you can afford them, stock up on batteries if you can't. Or just go Amish and you won't have to bother with awful disaster movies like the one reviewed above. Either way, the ozone layer needs a break, people; it doesn't need to break.
Stay tuned next issue as Just the Ticket steps back into the limelight to bring you something truly amazing.
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