Walk from DC to NY? Piece of Cake!

Last night I survived The Day After Tomorrow. The Day After Tomorrow had all the post cold war millennial disaster movie ingredients:
an estranged gifted son
ex spouse reconciliation
White House wavering
a renegade scientist
cheesy computer graphs illustrating the coming disaster
a prophetic homeless man
romance in the ruins
a lovable dog
plus, the appeal of that whole "the last shall be first" thing.

I don't know whether to criticize Dennis Quaid and Iam Holm for agreeing to be in such a goofy movie or praise them for their ability to deliver the vapid dialog with total gravitas and conviction. Perma-smirker Jake Gyllenhaal is excused. I mean, he's still just a teenager. (Please!) The film's stupidity shouldn't suprise anyone, but it still pissed me off. I will give the movie props for featuring my new favorite agency, NOAA and Tamlyn Tomita's noble beak.

To be fair to DAT, I am not a disaster movie lover. Some of the most painfully idiotic films ever made fall into that genre. Even a cheesy disaster movie can stress me out. All the manipulative devices start to work on me, in spite of my cynicism. My heart sinks for the first line soldiers who get blown away like so many insects. My hand waves warning to the people who chose the sure path to death because they didn't want to listen to the hero. My chin quivers at acts of martyrdom. Worst of all, some of these movies just scare the bejesus out of me.

Still, being from Minnesota, I felt that I definitely would have an advantage in Day After Tomorrow World. Any Minnesotan would tell you only a fool stands outside during a tornado. Also, thanks to the fine public schools we had in Minnesota (at least when I was a kid), I know how to swim, tread water, and I understand the value of dressing in layers.

The best disaster movie in my book is The Poseidon Adventure, starring one of my mom's secret fave raves, Gene Hackman.