It takes a while for Into the Storm to get rolling. For 50 minutes, the tornadoes are “meh,” the action is contrived and the plot is dominated by a pair of assholes — a “cross me, son, and it’s military school for you” father (Richard Armitage) and a short-tempered demanding boss (Matt Walsh). Neither of these men is pleasant. None of the scenes they are in are pleasant. I’m not sure the scenes would be worth seeing without them, but it might be worth the effort.
Into the Storm is the kind of movie that happens when a filmmaker has a great visual in his head and then tries to put a story around it.
The visuals? Gary (Armitage, who is much more comfortable under heavy makeup while wielding a battle axe, btw) has to hang on to Sarah Wayne Callies, who goes airborn like a kite Into the Storm. And right after that, a named cast member gets swallowed up into a vortex of fire. That.Is.Cool. You got me, movie; until then, I re
ally thought Into the Storm was going straight into the stormdrain.
Not that it didn’t try.
In the effort of telling a story to put some special effects around, Into the Storm gave us three distinct groups of forgettable characters: Group A is a mother-challenged family helmed by perpetually annoyed/distracted high school veep Gary. His sons Donnie (Max Deacon) and Trey (Nathan Kress) have been taught to video document everything by dad, for time capsule purposes. Why, dad? Why do you want to document your dickery? Do you anticipate future society being run by people by the scorn you show for your children? Elder son Donnie is a bit of a wimp and has to be prodded into an extracurricular field trip with his would-be squeeze Kaitlyn (Alycia Debnam Carey). Oh, did I mention that graduation was going on? And it was a normal school day, too. “Kids, if you’re graduating during 3rd period, make sure to bring your cap and gown.” Back to Donnie — I get the general reluctance to put yourself out there, but midway through this thing, tornadoes have trapped Donnie and Kaitlyn together alone in mortal peril – and he still can’t tell her he has a personal cyclone with her name on it. Lame.
Group B is even worse. Suffice to say — storm chasing is an awful profession, but even a good profession can be ruined by a bad boss. Group C is a set of idiots for whom “death by youtube” is a career goal. They’re presented as comic relief which would be great if I found them funny. The stormless part of this film is, if possible, even weaker than the same in Twister, which sets a pretty low bar. So, you’re here for drama with respect to the kickass effects, rather than , say, drama with respect to character development. Can you live with that?
Twisters! Cyclones! Tornadoes!
Nature creating all throes
With a vision as shallow as tunnels
You get writing as thin as screen funnels
Rated PG-13, 89 Minutes
D: Steven Quale
W: John Swetnam
Genre: Mother Nature hates us
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Citizens competing for “worst off” bragging rights
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Anti-authoritarians
