Reviews

Like many other Hollywood disaster movies, the world is coming to an end in 'Moonfall' too, but the only difference is that this time, the moon is the villain. Well, in a way, because an evil force has now invaded moon, which as per a theory floated in this rash sci-fi, is a 'mega structure' built by our ancestors, using the most advanced tech including Artificial intelligence. As the film progresses, its central premise becomes increasingly ridiculous and preposterous with its actors trying hard to make it believable. However, there's barely ever a moment that feels real in this make-believe occurrence. This is precisely why it seems so hard to feel invested in this labourious saga of life and death. The weak writing takes its toll on everything. It makes the screenplay come across as exhausting and repetitive because almost every action sequence is mounted as if the world is coming to an end. While it is thrilling, adventurous, and even edge-of-the-seat, at times, it still doesn't come off as wee-bit convincing.

End of the world movies have almost always been engaging. Also, director Roland Emmerich has ended the world time and again through his celluloid epics. Be it the aliens bringing the White House down, the world going into deep freeze or the giant lizard trampling across terra firma, films like Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow and Godzilla have showcased Emmerich as an able prophet of doom. Once again, he churns the oceans, cracks up the earth and sends down fireballs to create a cataclysm that sends humanity into a tizzy. Everyone's on the run, now that they know Earth has an expiry date: December 2012. And before the new world can begin (circa 0001), with a handful of survivors, families must unite, loved one's must be lost, the benevolent must shine and the bad guys be sorted out...In short, the entire gamut of emotions must be run through, even if it takes a prolonged two and half hours to depict the might of man against the fury of nature. Yes, 2012 is too long and ends up taxing your patience in the last 40 minutes where all the drama unfolds inside a submarine-like Noah's ark, brimming over with the survivors, handpicked on different yardsticks. Most of them are there because they could afford to buy themselves a one billion euro berth in the secret ship. Some have connections (like the US president's daughter, the White House chief), some because the new world needs them, like the bright, young scientist, Chiwetel Ejifor, and some -- the good, yet ordinary guys -- are gatecrashers and stowaways (John Cusack and his estranged family). But human drama isn't supposed to be the highlight of any disaster film. Special effects are the main draw. So, you actually don't mind the perfunctory manner in which the director handles his characters' bondings. There's Cusack trying to re-bond with his separated wife (Amanda Peet) and kids. There's the scientist torn with grief because he can't take his dad on the secret ship. There's the US Prez (Danny Glover) who chooses not to abandon his countrymen and prefers to look for a kid's lost daddy, when doom dawns. And there's the scheming wannabe (Oliver Platt) who dreams of becoming Prez when the new world order begins. Oh yes, amongst all these usual types, there's also the mad prophet of doom cum radio jockey (Woody Harrelson), who wants to be the first to bring the news, even if it means standing in the face of a volcano. All the characters try to hold your attention as they battle apocalyptical blues.

The film's premise - global warming leading to a radical climate shift and a new ice age - has caused scientists worldwide to flinch. Emmerich takes established facts and blows them out of proportion, and it's the exaggeration that has caused the consternation in the scientific community. (Incidentally, the Weather Channel apparently didn't have a problem with this, since their logo is plastered all over the place.) But who expects realism from a movie like this, anyway? The central disaster is just an excuse for the impressive effects work and the paper-thin character development. If it focuses some attention upon a real problem - global warming - then how can that be bad?

Jack Hall (Dennis Quaid) is a climatologist who has come to the conclusion that the world is fast approaching a new ice age. He estimates that the event will occur in 50 to 100 years - until he hooks up with British scientist Terry Rapson (Ian Holm), whose measurements of plummeting ocean temperatures in the North Atlantic advance and accelerate the time table significantly. Vice President Becker (Kenneth Walsh) ignores Jack's warnings, leaving the country without a plan of defense when disaster happens.

Tommy Lee Jones' Roark is a wonderfully heroic figure -- a man of action who never has time to rest. The fate of the city rests on his shoulders, and he knows it. Jones' fierce, unflagging portrayal helps us accept Roark not only as the man to save L. A., but as a loving father who is more concerned about his daughter's safety than that of every other citizen. Anne Heche (Donnie Brasco), a young actress who has experienced quite a bit of recent exposure, offers a spunky interpretation of her sidekick-turned-love interest role. Don Cheadle (Rosewood) is in top form -- most of the film's comic moments revolve around him. The rest of the cast isn't nearly as impressive, but, since no one else has much screen time, any number of acting deficiencies can be forgiven.

So tornadoes pass into the muse of one Michael Crichton, the reigning techno-king of Hollywood. And they make for rich pickings, indeed, for the science obsessed scribe: nature out-of-control, loads of accompanying technobabble, and the chance for huge screen-filling set-pieces.

But instead of channelling his premise of weather geeks careering across middle-American farmland in chase of the swirling masses of destruction into one of his populist novels, he decided (with the help of his wife Anne-Marie Martin) to make it straight into a movie. Computer generated tornadoes interacting with real-life actors? Cool idea. But could it be done?

Rope in one Jan De Bont, last seen whipping a bus through LA's rush hour traffic, and the boys at Industrial Light & Magic and - hey presto - visual effects to smack the collective global gob. Their "mission impossible" was accomplished. It's a shame such an effort was not afforded to the rather plodding storyline and lacklustre script. Twister is about one thing, and one thing alone: a thrill session. In that, it delivers tenfold.

The central hook is that a group of weatherfolk, dressed nattily in grunge gear, their four wheel-drives loaded with state-of-the-art equipment, are aiming to do the impossible and launch some sensors up inside a twister. This, for the sake of mankind, will allow them to predict their movements more quickly and hasten advanced warnings. Luckily for them, and the movie, it's about to be a double whammy of a tornado season.

And that, really, is all there is to it, plotwise. The team, led by the feisty Jo (Hunt) and her estranged hubbie Bill (Paxton), chase the tornadoes, getting seriously up close and personal in the seemingly vain effort to get the early warning ultra-sensor "Dorothy" in the twister's path.

There are attempts to add dimension: the spiky relations between the couple with Bill's new girl Melissa (Gertz) along for the ride, a formulaic but under-used bad guy in Elwes' corporate-funded competitor and the rum nuttiness of the science-school dweebs of the team (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Alan Ruck, Sean Whalen and Scott Thomson as comic relief). But they're fooling no one. This is about the twisters, five of them, building up to the rip-roaring (literally) wham-bang conclusion.

Apart from the odd spot of shoddy matte-work, the effects do for wind what Jurassic Park did for dinosaurs. From the get-go we're launched into a high speed chase - no buses, just jeeps and wind masses arbitrarily destroying farm buildings - and from there they just get bigger. The last 20 minutes predictably roll out that big gun, the F5 (top of the Fujita-Pearson Tornado Intensity Scale) leaving the audience suitably rapt by the sheer dynamism and flawless believability of it all.

De Bont knows about kinetics, he just lacks the skill to instil any lasting emotional level. Hunt and Paxton, valiant as they are, are simply ciphers to deliver us to the next thrill.

Twister is a disaster movie - houses collapse, cows fly, death looms - but a strange one where the victims are not unwittingly forced to face death, but, rather happily almost drunkenly imperil themselves like high-risk junkies (the compassionate subtext just doesn't rub). While it's hard to stir any sympathy for them, their excitement is infectious. Hence this film encompasses everything that is both grating and great about the blockbuster: it gives scant regard to character depth or dialogue while still being a must-see hoopla of computer trickery that weakens the knees and raises the neck-hairs.