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By
NICK ZEGARAC
A while back some
well-intentioned film critic wrote about "The Day
After Tomorrow" that it was a clear case of a good
film mired by bad science. I disagree. "The Day
After Tomorrow" is nothing like a "good" film. You
would think that after September 11th America's
sick cinematic fascination with its own
pulverization would have cooled down. Think again.
Or don't think at all. That certainly works for
director, Roland Emmerich and his new apocalyptic
claptrap, "The Day After Tomorrow." I am still
trying to glean the Freudian logic behind his
twisted fetish for destroying New York City. If
you recall, Emmerich also relished New York's
decimation in "Independence Day" with aliens
standing in for Mother Nature. "The Day After
Tomorrow" is a weak "star vehicle" for Dennis
Quaid who makes the least of his role as Jack
Hall, a climatologist that nobody believes. Sela
Ward is his estranged wife who, true to Hollywood
cliché, melts like an ice cap after "hero" husband
rescues their resourceful son (Jake Gyllenhaal).
Just once I'd like some sane movie executive or
screenwriter to explain to me why every couple in
a disaster film embark as spiteful enemies but
finish out the final reel like a twittering pair
of reconciled love bunnies. Presumably, there's
nothing like a billion tons of snow to bring two
stubborn and evasive soul mates together. At last,
something colder than their temperaments.
There's an absence of "good" sense in the way
Emmerich allows all of his plot threads to ball up
into minor and bothersome sequences of melodrama
that play second fiddle to the special effects.
For example, when self-sacrificing Laura Chapman
(Emmy Rossum) gets blood poisoning from a leg
wound she sustained while trying to save a South
African mother and child from the raging flood
waters (gee, why couldn't Emmerich have had the
directorial huts-bah to go all out and make them
quadriplegics too if he was going for the sympathy
vote?) and is confined with a fever and chills in
the New York Public Library, her impish but studly
would-be boyfriend, Sam (Gyllenhaal) treks out to
a Russian freighter in search of the penicillin
that will save her life. But the administering of
the drug is not the central issue of the sequence,
so much as it serves as the spring board for a
drawn out chase in which Sam and his loyal friends
are almost mauled by a pack of ravenous wolves --
eat your heart out, Farley Mowat! All this schlock
and "no sense" would make perfect "movie" sense if
Emmerich's intentions of creating a "message"
picture were not staked out in two feeble
tack-ons: (1) that man is killing himself through
his own stupidity and, for lack of a better
explanation, needs to get in touch with his
feminine side and become a kinder, gentler animal
on and to this planet, and (2) that fossil fuels
are bad. Well, duh!
If you're still interested in owning this film,
Fox DVD delivers a pretty impressive looking image
and sound quality. The anamorphically enhanced
picture is beautifully rendered, with deep
stylized colors, rich hues and solid blacks.
Contrast levels are just low enough to mask the
rather obvious digital effects that, at least in
the theater, looked very "cut and paste" and
cartoon-like. Edge enhancement is present but does
not distract. The audio has an incredible kick in
the base and a very natural sounding spread.
Extras include two audio commentaries (neither
particularly engaging), a sound demo and DVD-ROM
junkets that, frankly, are a waste of your time. |
