Some evenings are just plain...weird.
The journey towards ARMAGEDDON began with Harry *not* attending the sneak preview, graciously giving screening passes to all his satellite flunkies, charging them with the responsibility of writing a review after the screening, and sending it to him for immediate posting. I arrive at the theater a full two hours early, figuring this would comfortably put me at the front of the line. There were already close to a hundred people waiting.
So I stand there in line - heroically ignoring the fact that my companion is a garbage can filled with smelly crap - waiting for AICN perennials Robogeek, Copernicus, Johnny Wad, and Robogeek's guest (I can not for the life of me remember the "code name" Robo has affixed to this guy). Robogeek shows up shortly after my arrival, rolls his eyes when he sees the crowd before me. We try to converse, the garbage can finally becomes a bit distracting. You know those "Step In And Join The Gang!" walk-in standees for LETHAL WEAPON 4? Well, the garbage can is now part of that standee - so Robo and I could converse.
Copernicus shows up, immediately rails on ARMAGEDDON (he hadn't even seen it), certain that the scientific inaccuracies in the film would distract him to the point of insanity. Robogeek and I jump all over his ass, and tell him we want him to sit somewhere else once into the theater. Copernicus wanders off, for a moment I wonder if we'd hurt his feelings. Then I am informed by the others that the mighty scientific genius that is Copernicus had locked his keys in his car, and was awaiting the wrecker crew to come break into his vehicle so he could fetch them.
We enter the theater, deciding to save a seat for Copernicus - who was pacing the very hot parking lot awaiting wrecker salvation. Very quickly we are informed that once the auditorium is filled, the movie will start. Twenty minutes early. No sign of Copernicus. Robo, Johnny, Robo's Guest, and myself then launch into a deep and articulate philosophical debate about why none of us should leave our seats to go outside to tell Copernicus the movie would be starting early.
ROBO: He's an adult, he can handle something like this all by himself.
JOHNNY: I *told* him to wait 'till after the movie before calling the fucking wrecker. It's his own fault.
ROBO'S GUEST: I don't even KNOW the guy...
GLEN: He's already decided he hates this movie anyway, what difference does it make if he misses the beginning?
Before too long, we actually manage to fully rationalize WHY none of us should go tell this guy the movie is starting early, why none of us should leave our seats. Damndest thing I've ever seen. Quite impressive, actually.
And so it went. Finally, just as the movie was about to start, Copernicus makes it to his seat, the lights dim, the show begins. A quick flash of green jungle imagery. Then the projection busts and the lights rise once more. "What the fuck was THAT?" asks Johnny Wad, who...frankly...would rather be seeing this movie in another theater. Then the lights fade again...rise again..then fade again...Robo looks vaguely alarmed. Then IT begins.
ARMAGEDDON. Big. Anticipated. Expensive. Bruce.
So, is this movie any good? It all depends on how you look at it.
This is not 2001 or SOLARIS. It's not BLADE RUNNER or SILENT RUNNING. This isn't a thinking man's movie. It contains more scientific absurdities than my third grade science project. It's long (for my money, it might be a little too long). It's loud - the old people sitting behind me clamped their hands over their ears for the duration of the screening. It's odd. And sometimes, it's just plain weird.
But it is ALIVE. Let me explain what this means. A movie can be passive, thoughtful, romantic, exciting, etc. What adjectives one attaches to a film very much depends on HOW the movie is constructed, from what perspective the filmmaker(s) are approaching the material they are presenting. From what perspective the filmmakers are approaching the very medium of film itself, and what effect they want to convey to the audience that they have captured in a darkened theater.
Michael Bay - the director of ARMAGEDDON, who also brought us the truly awesome action masterpiece THE ROCK a few years back - sets out to make his audiences FEEL. Feel the energy of a moment, the tension of a sequence, the heart and essence of a scene. It's not about taking the afterglow of the movie home with you, it's not about changing your life forever, it's about the immediate experience. The thrill. The rush. And on this level, ARMAGEDDON succeeds very nicely.
This is a RIDE, whose intent is to overwhelm you and beat you into submission. Along the way, if you're digging the ride, you'll actually sense a few emotions. A lump in your throat as the Norman Rockwellian kids in the little country town round the corner "flying" their toy space shuttles, backed by Trevor Rabin's elegant score...a certain pride as the driller guys head off to their spaceships while the collective of humanity is watching and waiting and hoping. ARMAGEDDON isn't about being the best science fiction film ever made, it's about being a blast, a good time, and bringing a smile to your face as it takes you on it's quirky and imperfect ride. On all these levels, it succeeds.
One of the few films of the summer that remembers a movie screen is a BIG canvas on which to paint, and probably the only film I've seen all year that managed to take my breath away more than once, both technically and photographically. It's fun. I smiled. It took me away for a little while, on a trip that...frankly...I wouldn't want to take myself, but rather enjoyed watching vicariously.
glen@aint-it-cool-news.com
