I'm noticing a strange aberration of the space-time continuum every time I watch a lame-ass mini-series: How is it that the longest movies can sometimes have the least amount of content? It amazes me that, just last night, I watched all 169 minutes of 10.5 Apocalypse -- and now all I can think to say about it is: Volcanoes, earthquakes, a rogue fault line, and Beau Bridges as the world's most ineffectual president.
Sequel to 2004's equally brainless 10.5, this new mini-series begs a very important question: They couldn't have called it 11.5?
Seriously friends, jokes are mostly all I have, and it's because 10.5 Apocalypse is the most recent film I've seen, and once I finish this review, I plan to turn on Miller's Crossing and erase this earth-shaking silliness from my brainstem forever. But here's the scoop:
Only a few short hours after 10.5 obliterated the west coast, 10.5 Apocalypse kicks in with a ceaseless deluge of volcanic explosions, camera-shaky mega-tremors, and a huga lava-filled crack that seems intent on burrowing it's way across America. If the giant crack gets to its destination then everything between California and, let's say Philadelphia (cuz I live there) will find itself buried beneath a brand new ocean. Yikes.
The only things standing in the way of complete and total Americanal destructionism are the following dialogue-spouting ragdolls: Beau Bridges as President Weak-Knees, Kim Delaney as Supah-Geologist, former Superman Dean Cain (rescue worker edition), Mega-Supah-Geologist Frank Langella, and more forgettable ciphers than you'd ever want to meet at a cocktail party. Let alone during a geologic apocalypse.
As an overlong and extra-silly throwback to the old Irwin Allen disaster classics, 10.5 Apocalypse does offer a few stray moments of mild escapism and CG-enhanced guilty pleasure-dom, but even the few small moments of fun are mired in a wasteland of overripe dialogue, outrageously questionable science, and acting performances that border on the ridiculous. And don't get me started on the CGI.
Plus, you simply won't find a more annoyingly over-directed mini-series than this one. Director John Lafia, clearly hopped up on a 12-episode marathon of 24, takes to the quick-zoom like it's crack mixed with chocolate. Virtually every single scene in 10.5 Apocalypse includes jittery handheld camera quiverings, painfully random zoom-ins, and out-of-focus canoodling. The thing's a freakin' migraine waiting to happen, trust me. And that's not even taking the dialogue into account.
Video: Hey, at least Echo Bridge released the thing in widescreen. This way those who take pleasure in this type of sweeps week cheese-puff can do so with fine picture quality. And it is, too.
Audio: The Dolby Digital 2.0 mix loud when it wants to be. Hey, it's a disaster flick.
Movies like this spend so much time spinning their wheels between the "money shots" that I can't imagine what they're like with commercials. If you whittled this mini-series down to only its coolest and most unintentionally humorous moments, you'd have about 25 minutes worth of mindless entertainment.