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As the resident guy with no life, I feel it is my duty to go out, see movies, and tell you about them. But fear not, I shan't give out the plot, I did that once, and my boss beat me up. Soooo, this weekend I was packed into a theater like a mad cow headed for slaughter and strapped in to watch Twister. Boy did I want this to be good. Ask anybody, I've been waiting for Twister to come out for over a year, when I heard about it in it's infancy. Man, was I bummed. This is the most two-sided movie ever made. The story is simple to the extreme: A team of scientists chase tornadoes. When they do this, the movie is great. It's one big thrill ride with Oscar-caliber special effects! (you heard it here first.) When they stop and talk, you want to rip your eyes out of your head to stimulate the pressure points. Michael Crichton wrote the script, I guess while encased in a plastic bubble through which no wit could pass. Everything is one big melodrama, the characters are shallow, and you just hope the next twister will suck everyone up so the movie will end. But then another tornado comes on the screen and you're on the edge of your seat, heart pounding, bladder emptying. Then the tornado passes and you turn to your neighbor to continue your enlivening discussion "The Thompson Twins, neither Thompsons, nor twins. What gives?" The directing is fine, Jan De Bont does fine with action, maybe this movie will make enough money that he'll be able to lengthen his middle name. Bill Paxton is better left as the character actor he's known for. His acting is so silly and melodramatic, you're looking for railroad tracks on which to tie him down. Helen Hunt is the ultimate babe and I will never say anything bad about her. I love her. If she would have me, I'd be her love slave for all of eternity. But I spent most of the movie wondering when Paul Reiser was going to show up and take her home. An interesting thought came to me when I discussed it with my roommate. He was spooked by it, and said that one scene in particular scared the bejeeses out of him. This made me ponder. He doesn't get scared at anything, and Twister, while exciting at times, was not what I'd call scary. Then it struck my dull little brain. He's from Kansas City, and has lived through these things. For him they brought back memories of real terror. It's like when I see a good earthquake movie (none come to mind right now) and my east coast relatives don't understand why it got to me so much. We fear what we don't know. But sometimes, we fear what we know even more. Does that mean the next big disaster film to get my attention will be "The Virus," a horrible tale about a computer virus that eats hard drives for breakfast? Hand me the Popcorn! In all, Twister was a nice special effects real, but a horrid script around a sloppy movie. The summer, I hope, will do better. 1 1/2 Babylons. Less without the tornadoes. The Self-Made Critic has spoken.
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