So, here it is, finally sneaking into cinemas after more delays than Southern trains. Almost exactly a year to the day after originally scheduled; almost three years after shooting began, thanks to reports of extensive reshoots; and accompanied by bad buzz and thousands of tweets of that gif where Michael Jackson is chomping expectantly on popcorn. Oh, and this movie about the worst storm in recorded history is arriving on the back of the worst storms in recorded history. That’s the sort of bad timing that would win you a place in the middle order of the England cricket team.
However, sorry to disappoint those looking a gif horse in the mouth — yes, Geostorm is bad, but it’s not a stinker for the ages. In fact, given its torturous production history, it’s often strangely competent and even, in its geostorming final third, moves somewhere towards being entertaining for a movie that essentially boils down to ‘Gerry Butler versus weather’.
Yes, Geostorm is bad, but it’s not a stinker for the ages.
With the contribution of Danny Cannon (who came in to direct extensive reshoots last year) and Jerry Bruckheimer (hired, it seems, as a production consultant) uncredited, Geostorm is still very much a Dean Devlin joint. The directorial debut of the man who, with Roland Emmerich, pretty much pioneered modern cinema’s appetite for destruction on a global scale with Independence Day and Godzilla, you’d imagine we’d be in safe hands, and that Devlin might even be able to bring a few new wrinkles. Instead, it’s all so plodding and formulaic, joylessly ticking off boxes from the Disaster Movie Playbook (does the hero have a teenage daughter who thinks he’s a disappointment until he saves the world? Check) — while being too po-faced to even count as parody of the genre he helped to create. The scenes of devastation, as Hong Kong is hit by devastating, skyscraper-toppling gas-main explosions, or Brazil faces a sudden nip of wintry weather that freezes people, and a 747, instantly, are decently rendered, but we’ve seen it all before. Yes, there’s a dog in peril. Yes, it lives. Yes, millions of people die, but who cares when the dog lives?
Signs of surgery are there — it’s bookended by narration from a minor character that sounds like it was written in the recording booth on the morning of; nobody seems quite sure when the movie’s set; and one day there may be a drinking game devoted to Jim Sturgess’ changing hairstyle (has he got sideburns? Shot!). Of course, none of it makes a lick of sense, but that might have been inevitable anyway, given the grade-A gobbledegook being thrown around to justify a plot so ludicrous the entire cast deserve honorary Oscars for being able to resist the urge to look at the camera and mouth, “Help me.” Yet it all hangs together. Ish. And it even kicks up a gear after about an hour of geotedium, signalled by the year’s most unintentionally hilarious scene, where Butler and Jim Sturgess, as his estranged brother who’s working in the White House (yes, it’s that sort of movie), communicate in code.
After that, Devlin and co finally give in to the ludicrousness of a premise that asks you to believe Gerry Butler could play a scientist, delivering a third act where it goes full geostupid. There are lightning bolts that can blow up large buildings, a ‘surprise’ villain reveal that is only a surprise to the characters, none of whom have apparently ever seen a film before, and Andy Garcia bellowing a line that should see him get a second honorary Oscar. Oh, and the word “geostorm” is repeated more times than it really needs to be. This stuff is all hugely enjoyable; maybe even intentionally so. It’s hard to tell.
But what Geostorm doesn’t do, perhaps criminally, is deliver on the promise of that original pitch: Gerry Butler, perhaps the greatest angry shout-puncher we have, versus weather. Instead, it’s a movie that strands its most charismatic chess piece on the side of the board, faffing around in zero-G while all the really cool stuff happens down below on Earth, with Jim Sturgess And His Incredible Changing Haircut teaming up with Abbie Cornish to battle the forces of darkness in the White House. It’s perhaps the ultimate testament to what an incredible missed opportunity this is that there’s not a single moment where Gerry Butler barks, “THIS! IS! GEOSTORM!” and then punches a hurricane. There still may be time to do a quick reshoot, guys.
