Disaster Movies James Lileks

The odds of dying from an asteroid impact are roughly equal to the odds of dying in a plane crash: 1 in 20,000. The odds of winning the Powerball lottery are 1 in 54 million. Meaning: if you ever win the Powerball, and you get on a plane that's hit by an asteroid, the odds of you making the cover of Statistician Monthly are 1:1.   I learned these facts from a news program that followed the airing of a movie called "Asteroid." I hope this blending of uninteresting movies and uninformative news segments is a trend. Perhaps when the network airs Hamlet, an eager reporter will inform me that the chances of me becoming an indecisive Danish prince are 1 in 500 million. The reporter also pointed out one large asteroid that was "as big as Ramsey County," which isn't too helpful. In the news today: Hennepin county was destroyed by an asteroid the size of Ramsey County. It's hard to visualize.   I had to watch "Asteroid," because I enjoy a good disaster movie. I only wish this was one of them. It concerned a giant rock named Eros - yes, the god of sex - that decided to hit earth right in the middle of sweeps week. Nothing but standard-issue disaster movie - button-cute kids in peril and steely military men, lots of things exploding, dialogue so wooden the characters got splinters paging through the script.   It was disaster night on every channel, it seemed. Another station ran "Gorgo," one of those creature-from-the-depths shows that the Japanese made so well. Unfortunately, this one was made by the British. Gorgo was your basic prehistoric lizard, shrieking like someone had taped tinfoil to his fillings. He destroyed London. Not a big job, really. In terms of trashable landmarks, London is like a practice frame in bowling. London bridge, check. Parliament, check. Miller time! We are in the middle of a string of disaster movies, and no, I'm not counting "Evita." Next summer also brings "Titanic," which is "The Poseidon Adventure" right side up. I seem to recall they made several Poseidon movies, each with Gene Hackman - Return to Poseidon, The Poseidon on the Planet of the Apes, O Poseidon! (a nude musical version.) Next came The Towering Inferno, a 70s classic: 120 floors of flaming shag rugs. That building should have gone up like a roman candle, shooting wads of orange Fortrel Polyester into the sky.   You can understand why Japan made monster movies in the 50s. Small island nation gets blown to bits in war, and then makes movies where a scaly beast that doesn't speak the language comes ashore and destroys things. The audience would look at Godzilla and think, [start ital] well, we certainly didn't do anything to deserve this. Maybe that other thing, but not [end ital] this.   You can understand why the 70s produced disaster movies: Nixon's resignation shook the country's foundations (in Sensurround!) and the nation's unease was reflected in the tribulations of other cultural icons. (Skyscrapers, cruise ships.) If Nixon had weathered Watergate and served out his term, the movies would have been different. A giant wave hits the Poseidon and turns it upside down - but only for a moment, and then the ship rights itself. A spark ignites some oily rags in the country's greatest skyscraper - but someone douses it with chemical foam. Jaws would have lasted thirty minutes.     There's no big reason the disaster movie is back, other than the cyclical nature of Hollywood. After the disaster craze is over, they'll resurrect the trends of the early 80s - namely, sniggering adolescent sex comedies. George Lucas will produce a master edition of Porky's, complete with digital enhancement of the shower-room scene.   Enjoy your disasters while you can.