I have a love of bad disaster movies. I guess it’s because I have a personality where I get great pleasure out of making fun of stuff. If I had a nickel for every time my husband says, “Stop mocking me!” I’d have a crap-load of nickels.
There are several reasons I enjoy disaster movies:
- Because they are so ridiculous in what a human being is capable of surviving. I understand the whole “suspension of disbelief” that needs to go along with moves, especially this genre, but it just goes so far out of bounds that it becomes comical. I enjoy keeping a count of all the times the main characters should have been evaporated, blown up, melted, crushed, etc…
- The bad special effects. While the movie makers do an excellent job destroying stuff, putting real people in the middle of the destruction is doggone near impossible without looking fake. It’s kind of hard to take impending doom seriously as the hero is hanging above a pit of lava when every hair is in place and there’s not a singed eyebrow to be had. Hell, I singe off eyebrows and arm hair at least once a week while cooking. In fact, it happened today.
- The connections between the main characters. Characters all over the country/world stumble upon each other and all have some connection other than just being in the same place at the same time. This phenomenon started bugging me when the movie Independence Day came out. The president’s wife is found by the stripper girlfriend of the Air Force pilot who is the only one to take out a spaceship who manages to make his way to Area 51 where the stripper girlfriend manages to get the First Lady and also where the President is at even though he was in Washington DC at the start of the attack. It’s coincidence on steroids.
- Gratuitous destruction of cities and national landmarks. The white house is blown up. The LaBrea Tar Pits erupt. New York City is taken out by a tidal wave. I actually get angry that Chicago is rarely featured in the destruction orgy. You know why I was willing to see Transformers 3 – Dark of the Moon? Because they destroyed landmarks that I used to live across the street from… not that I hope anything ever happens to my beloved corn-cob-buildings (aka The Marina Towers), but it’s fun to see things on screen that you have a personal connection to and the interesting ways they are taken apart.
So that leads me to my mocking of the movie 2012. Tagline “We Were Warned.” Not true, if you actually take the time to watch the movie. Most of us would have been left to die under a pile of rubble or be melted with molten lava… but I’m getting ahead of myself.I’d like to start off by saying that this movie honked me off because the apocalypse as predicted by the Mayans is supposed to be one of two days: December 21 or December 23 – which has been the most publicized date and which just so happens to be my birthday. If the world does in fact end, it better be my birthday. Of course the stupid movie writers use December 21. Buttholes.
