Clichés
come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them even walk and talk, as they do in the
first half of Poseidon, before the titular ship capsizes in this
needless-but-efficient remake of The Poseidon Adventure (1972). There
they are, hollow and unformed as mannequins in a shop window. They’re not
really characters – they’re just there, sailing on the good ship 'Poseidon'
because … well, someone has to. Indeed, like mannequins, their blandness is
probably an asset; you don’t want customers getting distracted by originality
when they’re looking in your shop window.
Here’s
Josh Lucas as the reprobate hero, his slightly disreputable quality turning into
rugged individualism when crisis hits. He’s a gambler – like Leo in Titanic
– and will gamble his own and
others’ lives, refusing to do as he’s told and huddle in the upside-down
ballroom with the other survivors. Here’s Kurt Russell as the middle-aged big-shot
(a former Mayor of New York); he’s the voice of Authority, and will tangle
briefly with Josh for alpha-male status as the group makes its way up the
ship’s shattered innards. Here’s Richard Dreyfuss as the Offbeat Older Man
– played by Red Buttons in the first Poseidon, Fred Astaire in The
Towering Inferno – in this case an embittered homosexual contemplating
suicide when the 'rogue wave' hits. Here’s Emmy Rossum as the teenage girl –
Kurt’s daughter – her early fire damped by the slowly-rising waters as the
film goes on. Here’s Jimmy Bennett as the kid; there has to be a kid, though
this one lacks personality even by the standards of the genre.
All
these people trudge onwards and upwards, negotiating various sticky wickets and
nick-of-time escapes, occasionally shedding the more unfortunate (or just
expendable) members of their party; the only real sub-plot concerns the daughter,
who wants to marry her boyfriend but doesn’t know how to tell Dad. The 70s
original had a little more, notably Gene Hackman as a priest going through a
crisis of faith; all that’s been removed for the remake, presumably on grounds
of distracting from the action. The film’s (melo)dramatic ambitions may be
gauged by its cast. The first Poseidon had five Oscar winners in its all-star
ranks; this has one (Dreyfuss), with the likes of Lucas and Rossum unlikely to
trouble the Academy any time soon.
At
least it’s gruelling, if rather mechanical. Banter is kept to a minimum.
"Was that supposed to be sexy?" asks the single mum when Lucas
describes what he does; "I don’t know. Was it?" he replies roguishly.
The cheese factor is low, though it has its moments: passengers pop champagne
and sing "Auld Lang Syne" (it’s a New Year’s cruise), but an
officer standing on the bridge pricks up his ears; "You feel that? … I
don’t know, something’s off…" It’s the approaching wave, of course
– one of many great special effects, though in fact slightly inferior to the
climactic wall of water in the same director’s Perfect Storm (2000).
After the ship is struck the rhythm gets repetitive, settling into a series of
videogame-like disaster scenarios; lift shafts must be crossed, gaping chasms
negotiated, vents crawled-out of with the water rising inexorably beneath.