Film Review: Geostorm

Rating: Who Cares/10

 

In a moment that I now deeply regret, I had the realization that the last few movies I’ve seen were actually pretty good. “Why not”, I said to my self, “go see something you might be able to rip apart? That would at the very least make for an interesting review.” So, with all the confidence in the world, I jumped in my car, and raced to the theater. Then I saw Geostorm, and all of my hopes vanished like tears in rain (Blade Runner reference, also lazy weather joke).

I truly have nothing positive to say about Geostorm. I also have next to nothing at all to say about it. It is not often that you walk into a theater expecting to see a terrible film, see a terrible film, and still leave disappointed. Dean Devlin, the producer and writer behind such other schlock as Independence Day and Godzilla (1998) makes his directorial debut here, as well as being credited as co-writer. I suppose that means I can directly blame him for writing a script that is essentially only comprised of exposition and occasionally a line so cringy that I couldn’t stifle my laughter, as well as for some of the most by-the-numbers direction ever committed to film.

In fact, by-the-numbers is the best way to describe Geostorm. Every story beat is cliché and predictable. There is a cross, then a double cross. The brother characters don’t get along. The main character has a daughter who makes him promise to come home (from his job onboard the International Space Station). The president is a middle aged white guy. The millennial hacker character says things millennials would recognize. There are scenes of people watching a dramatic space rescue in mission control, and then celebrating when it works (at the last second of course). I could probably go on, but I don’t feel like wasting any more of your time. The moral of the story here is: this is nothing new; you have seen every element of this film before, I guarantee it.

In a disaster movie, you rarely expect stellar characterization or a moving plotline. At the very least you hope for some thinly developed plot to carry you until the real show starts: the special effects mayhem. Unsurprisingly, Geostorm even fails on this front. The special effects are so hysterically bad that I eventually began to assume that the special effects team was either given three days to complete the entire film, or that they took one look at the script and tossed the project to the interns.

I am seriously struggling to come up with sentences at this point. I could talk about how the film opens with three minutes of a thirteen-year-old girl delivering an expository sermon on the evils of global warming, but what would be the point? I could talk about how Gerard Butler looks both drunk and disinterested for the entire duration of the runtime, but that might almost encourage you to think that there is any enjoyment to be had here, even of the “so bad its good” variety. There is not. Honestly, I barely remember Geostorm, and the film literally ended twenty-five minutes ago. This is a terrible movie, yes, but also one that shows so little care on the part of the filmmakers (a term I am using very lightly in this instance) that I find it hard to care either. The experience of watching it is an exercise in how much apathy the human mind can endure. I don’t care. I truly do not care. Maybe at some point in the future I’ll revisit Geostorm and rip it to shreds, but for now all I can hope for is that, like my hopes of an inept disaster flick that would prompt a good ol’ rant, all memory of this movie will vanish like tears in rain (throwback reference to my previous Blade Runner reference).