Deep Impact (1998)

Director: Mimi Leder.

Cast: Robert Duvall, Téa Leoni, Elijah Wood, Morgan Freeman

Have I Seen It Before: Set aside, for a moment, the reality that the summer of 1998 was just one of those summers where I made it a point to see everything I could (Hope Floats, anyone?), you didn't get out of that summer having an opinion about the two big asteroids coming for the Earth films*.

Did I Like It: And now it's time for me to share those opinions, too. The lore around this movie is that it is the "smarter" version of the story, as opposed to its brother from a different studio. That's ultimately true, but l also think that forces almost every person on the planet to give Deep Impact more credit than it ultimately deserves.

Sure, Deep Impact reaches for emotions, whereas other movies are content with manipulation.

Indeed, there's some attempt at real science fiction, where there's a moment in that other movie where a character solemnly develops Space Madness, which I believe was cribbed from an episode of Ren & Stimpy. This one also has a score from James Horner, which automatically makes it better than most films you get in any particular summer, and a good measure better than any film that is to come**

But the reality is that Deep impact can really only be called a smart movie when it is compared to one of the silliest, most ridiculous films to ever blow out the speakers at your multiplex. It is a movie-of-the-week, with a cast of dozens, and plenty of moments of movie emotions, but it is still a big summer movie built with the largest, least discerning audience in mind. When compared with that animal crackers scene, however, Deep Impact suddenly transforms into a film for serious grown people only.

Deep Impact is the cinematic equivalent of my father growing up. His older brother was a wild child. Notoriously, legendarily so. I think Bart Simpson may have been partly based on my uncle.

Was my father a particularly well-behaved child? I don't tend to think so, but when those comparisons come in, I can see why my grandparents thought he was the calmer one.

Huh. And I didn't think I could get through an entire review of this movie without mentioning Armageddon (1998). There. I ruined it.

"I have no trouble imagining many of the people with those opinions didn't bother to see both films. I'll leave you to guess which one they did see.

**Maybe the Avatar sequels. Maybe.

Jurassic Park III (2001)

Director: Joe Johnston

Cast: Sam Neill, William H. Macy, Téa Leoni, Alessandro Nivola

Have I Seen it Before: I saw it in the theater… I think I’m still waiting for the final reel of the film to be delivered.

Did I Like It: Which brings us to the big question. Jurassic Park (1993) is the most Spielbergy of all the Spielbergian films. The Lost World (1997) was a pleasing enough diversion in which all of the key players felt like they were asleep at the wheel. The later movies (Jurassic World (2015) and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018)) are engaging enough legacy sequels made by a creative team who clearly has an abiding affection for the source material. 

This film, however, sticks out like a sore thumb, or a thumb chewed off by a compy, or whatever dinosaur metaphor strikes your fancy. I like director Joe Johnston; The Rocketeer (1991) is one of my favorite movies. He’s been handed table scraps, here, though. The movie looks cheaper, with the CGI not aging as well as it does in the original movie (The Lost World had the same problem, but both films are saved from the absolute dregs of a Superman IV: The Quest for Peace (1987)) and story being thin enough to drive an SUV through.

By all indications, that story underwent a lot of last-minute changes. The script as written was thrown out right before production in favor a much simpler search and rescue storyline. Problem is, so many of the set pieces had already been storyboarded within an inch of their life. Thus the movie ends up trying to be two different movies, neither of which have anything resembling the spontaneity of anything resembling the human experience. One might think I’m being unfair thinking that a movie about dinosaurs meant to goose the numbers on action figure sales needs to feel authentically human, but when I can’t get over the fact that it is spectacularly divorced from the people making it, it bears mentioning.

This doesn’t even cover the fact that the movie doesn’t so much end as simply stops, with our heroes reaching the shoreline and the Marines and Navy are ready with Operation Deus Ex Machina. I liked spending some time with Dr. Grant again, but this isn’t the movie anyone would have hoped for.

Bad Boys (1995)

Director: Michael Bay

Cast: Martin Lawrence, Will Smith (last time he gets second billing, me thinks), Téa Leoni, Joe Pantoliano

Have I Seen it Before: I was a child of the 1990s and had cable, so I saw some version of this movie, to be sure.

Did I Like It: What’s not to like? How hard is it to make a buddy cop movie work?

That question may be unfair. The entire genre is dependent on chemistry between the two leads. If it works, you’ve got the next Lethal Weapon (1987). If you get it wrong, suddenly you’re saddled with another Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot (1992)*. In what must be unnerving for those who make movie in the genre, that chemistry is largely ephemeral, and can be waylaid by any number of factors and good casting alone may not be enough to save matters.

Luckily, the chemistry between Lawrence and Smith is nearly perfect in its calibration. When the two are sharing a frame and just talking, the film’s charms are undeniable. One can’t be certain if they’re improvising during these sequences, but it feels breezy in a way that seldom can be achieved outside of improvisation. They’re easily funny, which is starkly obvious when it appears that either of the stars deliver one-liners supplied by one of the four credited screenwriters.

This movie even comes from a time before Michael Bay went into autopilot mode while mashing action figures together, and while his style may be a bit too arch for some, it does feel at home in the Miami sun amid endless explosions.

*I’ll be willing to admit that one had some other problems, not the least of which appear to be that the entire rationale for its existence appears to be as a prank Arnold Schwarzenegger played on Stallone. Look it up!