Volcano (1997)

In Volcano, Los Angeles is a city of contradictions.  Beneath its warm and sunny exterior lies an ongoing class divide and stubborn racial segregation.  While working people of colour complain about an old church being turned into a mini-mall and protest those who oppose the extension of a subway system into their neighbourhoods, rich white folks can test drive fancy vehicles, build tall apartment buildings and have their pick of plastic surgery options.

Meanwhile, quietly bubbling under the La Trea Tar Pits is a disaster in the making, one that the city is seemingly ill-prepared to contain.

Tommy Lee Jones, the director of the Office of Emergency Management in LA, is supposed to be on vacation.  He’s recently separated and babysitting his needy 13-year-old daughter (Gaby Hoffmann).  But his “Midwestern work ethic” can’t keep him away from work.

Soon thereafter, an earthquake hits.  A construction crew working on the subway extension take bets on its epicenter.  In the middle of looking after a recently admitted gunshot victim, an ER surgeon (Jacqueline Kim) has to keep an important piece of equipment plugged in.  And several maintenance workers have died mysteriously of severe burns while working in an underground sewer.

Even though charismatic geologist Anne Heche correctly deduces that all this is happening because there’s a previously undetected underground volcano on the verge of multiple eruptions, her lack of absolute certainty fails to convince a skeptical Jones to take preventive measures beyond clearing out a local park.

Very early the next morning, she takes along a doomed colleague to go into that underground sewer to collect samples.  But something goes horribly wrong confirming her suspicions.  (She could’ve just asked Jones about his own experience down below since he was there first.)  It isn’t until “lava bombs” start flying through the sky hours later that Jones himself finally gets the message.  But by that point, the damage is done.  Power is out throughout the entire city.  Traffic jams are everywhere.  Buildings are towering infernos while a slow-moving pool of glowing lava is making its way through Wilshire Boulevard.  When the disaster ends, 100 people will have died and thousands more will be injured.

Heckuva job, Jonesy.

Belatedly using his authority to coordinate as many law enforcement, emergency and military teams as necessary, he first has to figure out a way to stop the lava flow from going any further.  Then, when Heche tells him a second, much speedier eruption is heading towards a hospital that has so many patients many have to be treated outside, he has to determine how to redirect its mighty hot contents safely towards the ocean.

I have to admit it’s fun seeing balls of fire flying around causing serious damage to empty buildings.  However, it’s far less exciting following this hokey story.  Part of the problem is that it’s overplotted.  So much information comes at you in the first 10 minutes or so laying the groundwork for payoffs that never arrive.

Consider John Corbett’s character, a racist land developer improbably married to Jacqueline Kim, the compassionate Asian-American ER doctor.  He’s deliberately built his new apartment building directly across from a different hospital he wants his wife to work in.  He would rather she treat “tennis elbows” than gunshot victims.  Not only is it hard to accept their relationship (which is thankfully minimized to just two scenes), it’s also not convincing that she would encourage his 100 million dollar venture knowing full well that money would be better served improving her current workplace, an issue that’s never discussed.

Corbett is front and center at the subway protest complaining about the planned extension.  His rationale for opposing this sounds an awful lot like Donald Trump’s infamous campaign speech when he decried Mexicans.  But after this scene’s conclusion, it’s never addressed again.  And when his brand new skyscraper becomes part of the spontaneous plan to redirect the second round of lava to the ocean, he’s nowhere in sight.

There’s an awkward subplot where a Black man gets arrested by a much smaller white cop right in the middle of the developing disaster.  The man simply wants his neighbourhood looked after during the worsening crisis.  But the much wealthier white areas of the city, including a museum, get prioritized.  It isn’t until his considerable strength is called upon that he’s uncuffed and, thanks to his spontaneous service, suddenly allowed to ride a fire truck back home.  He’s never seen again and we never do find out how bad the damage is in his area.

Even more awkward is the scene where a small child notices that everyone looks the same when their faces are covered in volcanic ash.  I guess that’s supposed to pass for a kumbaya moment but it feels very forced, much like the moment where Heche admits she likes Jones which, thankfully, never develops into anything.

Because the movie is all over the place with its narrative, graphics are frequently used to tell us the time and place of almost every scene.  Did I say frequently used?  I meant excessively used.  (I think we can clearly see the Hard Rock Café sign, guys.)  Also excessive are the number of reporter characters who offer unnecessary play-by-play of what’s happening.  Instead of letting the clearly defined images tell the story we get Michael Cole wannabes (future TMZ jerk Harvey Levin and Fox News anchor Shepard Smith among them) stating the obvious over and over again.  (Only those with sight issues will appreciate the descriptions even though they’re not that colourful.)

Back in 1997, Volcano had the misfortune of arriving in theatres two months after Dante’s Peak, another bad disaster movie with a similar story that ultimately made more money.  Despite the strong cast which also includes a sometimes funny Don Cheadle as Jones’ second-in-command at the OEM, the film lacks genuine tension and palpable fear.  Plus, we’re simply not given enough good scenes with the characters in order to care about them and their dilemma.

Not nearly as bad as some critics like Roger Ebert believed (I don’t agree that the special effects are cheesy) but not nearly as good as the guilty pleasure Airport ’77, Volcano is disappointingly ordinary.  And yet there are moments that suggest a better result.

After Heche climbs out of the underground sewer, a bunch of poor folks start looting closed businesses.  (Remember, much of the movie takes place during early morning hours.)  At one point, she removes some of her scientific equipment and leaves it on the hood of a car.  As she tries to process the tragedy that happened just moments before, a looter runs by scooping up her shit.  She’s too sad to notice.

It’s the biggest laugh in a movie that should’ve been funnier.

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Friday, January 26, 2018
2:48 a.m.