A same-old tale of apocalypse knows we’ve seen this all before, and so centers human drama over disaster porn. It has nothing new to say, but at least it says it well, with notes of horrific grace.
Not a knockoff of that other quiet horror flick, though this familiar monster movie works hard to convince otherwise. But the terrific cast makes it worth a look, at least for Netflix subscribers.
Coasts on the awesomeness of Ruth Bader Ginsburg in a way unadventurous if solidly crowd-pleasing. But the depiction of her incredibly supportive marriage to a feminist man is intensely satisfying.
A little bit psychedelic, a little bit queasy, a little bit experimental, a lot existential, this is a jarring, visceral portrait of the around-the-world sailor in over his head.
You think Grandma and your biological clock are putting pressure on you to find Someone Special? That’s nothing to the unstoppable asteroid with planet Earth in its sights.
This isn’t a movie: it’s an FX demo reel. It’s not about anything: it doesn’t reflect any contemporary fears that afflict individual people or anxieties that grip our entire culture. It has nothing to say beyond: “Don’t alien ships in the skies over Los Angeles look sorta interesting, and perhaps you would like to hire us to create the FX for your next sci-fi action film?”
But if you knew when we as a species were going to buy the farm, how would you spend your final hours? That’s the question Canadian filmmaker Don McKellar asks in Last Night, which he wrote, directed, and stars in. Sort of the flip side of movies like Armageddon and Deep Impact, Last Night focuses not on the heroes trying to save the planet from certain doom but instead peeks in at how ordinary people are facing the end of the world.
Deep Impact isn’t about the audience watching the world end — it’s about us empathizing with the people watching the world end. Big diff. But the sold-out, opening-night crowd I saw Deep Impact with wanted none of that.