Characters, credulity capsize alongside cruise ship.
First Law of Mediocre Disaster Blockbusters: Never, under any circumstances, give 'em time to think.
Poseidon
certainly does everything it can on this front, keeping us hyperventilating and aghast, permitting no reflection between hair-raising events. We're barely 10 minutes into the film
and don't yet know the characters' names when the deadly "rogue wave" appears-in the helmsman's
binoculars
, as he mutters uneasily, "Something's not right." Amazing! Not only are we still dependent on the hoary POV binocular shot (which dates from 1923 and Michael Curtiz'
Der Junge Medardus
), but apparently 21st-century superliner navigation also continues to depend on nothing less than briny seafaring intuition. Screw NOAA; forget about radar and satellites; we've got a muttering helmsman! Unfortunately, he doesn't tweak to the rogue wave nearly fast enough, so the
Poseidon
promptly capsizes, with lots of screaming and fairly gross graphic casualties.
***image1***
Which brings us naturally to the Second Law: Substitute chaos, ornamented with ample yelling, falling objects and random explosions, for honest drama (since it's impossible to generate real suspense if you can't be bothered to care about anyone). This leads, sensibly enough, to the Third Law: Carefully construct characters out of flabby dialogue, paper plates, fingerpaint and gluestick. Viewers should think of them not by name or identity but by quickly assigning labels based on physical traits-as in, Gutsy Sexy Maverick Leader (the tireless Josh Lucas-and how
does
he manage to grow out all that stubble during a two-hour film? we ask admiringly), Rich Old Gay Guy (Richard Dreyfus), Hot Hispanic Chick (Mía Maestro), Hot White Chick (
Phantom of the Opera
's Emmy Rossum), Noble Black Captain (Andre Braugher), Annoying Drunk Idiot (Kevin Dillon, because Matt was busy that week), Pretty Scared Mom in a Ballgown (Jacinda Barrett), and Kurt Russell. (This law has a corollary: You really,
really
don't want to be a person of color in this movie. Just trust us on that one.)
A sound technique for
assessing how well
Poseidon
attains the goals of the Mediocre Disaster Blockbuster is to compare it to an outstanding instance of same-and inconveniently
***image2***
enough, there's a classic MDB ready to hand, probably to Wolfgang Petersen's dismay; it's called
The Poseidon Adventure
, and it's everything this sloppy, loud remake isn't.
In the original, you care immediately and intensely about its survivors-despite some risibly cheesy dialogue-because they are basically us, and we feel for them, whether they be overweight, dumb, irritating or handsome and heroic (Hackman be thy name!). You honestly have no idea who will survive, and the resulting tension is wrenching. The editors give you just enough time in tight spots to consider the range of solutions, and to breathe with relief when our heroes choose the right one. (Instead of having way too much time to think such idle thoughts as: Why are the helium balloons still stuck to the ceiling even though it's now the floor? How is it possible to swim through water filled with diesel fuel without burning your eyes? Just how long can that kid hold his freaking breath underwater anyway? Why aren't these people hypothermic? And why does Dreyfus' Cingular cellphone work in the middle of the Atlantic when ours won't work inside Paseo? For example.)
There's really just one Law for Making a Successful Commercial Disaster Flick: Watch a few. Watch
Jaws
for its agonizingly suspenseful quiet scenes and deft, compressed characterizations. Hell, watch your own, Wolfgang-watch
Das Boot
and
The Perfect Storm
for starters. Just don't watch
Poseidon
; all it can teach you is how to film frenzied, violent churning so that its nervousness fails to resemble genuine, taut action.
