Bill and Jo Harding, advanced storm chasers on the brink of divorce, must join together to create an advanced weather alert system by putting themselves in the cross-hairs of extremely violent tornadoes.
A giant, reptilian monster surfaces, leaving destruction in its wake. To stop the monster (and its babies), an earthworm scientist, his reporter ex-girlfriend, and other unlikely heroes team up to save their city.
Something unspeakably chilling is ultimately starting to heat up at The City of Los Angeles! Beneath the famed La Brea Tar Pits, a raging volcano has formed, raining a storm of deadly fire bombs and an endless tide of white-hot lava upon the stunned city! Written by
Anthony Pereyra <email@example.com>
During the fire at Rancho La Brea, just before the rise of the volcano, can be seen briefly in a wall "George C. Page Museum". It's one of the most important museums of Los Angeles. See more »
The lava occasionally disappears within some shots. See more »
Right over the Red Line
That steam could come anywhere... maybe the earthquake broke a water main
How did it get heated?
I don't know
You gotta lower me down there
I'm not letting you down there
Why... It's too dangerous?
I thought it was a water main?
[...] See more »
I'm a reasonable man. When the title "Volcano" shows up on my TV screen, I know the score: this is a disaster movie.
The formula dictates it contain archetypal characters, corny dialogue, a hefty dose of "Hollywood science", unbelievable behaviour, loose plots and half-arsed social commentary and if the director wasn't the kind to blindly follow formulae, he wouldn't be making a disaster movie in the first place.
So, it should come as no surprise that Volcano includes all that in copious amounts. That's not what damns the movie.
When you enter a disaster movie, you do so under the premise that all those groan-inducing ingredients will be drowned under an, if not entertaining, at least distracting buffet of jaw-dropping devastation. You willingly surrender plot, characters and realism on the altar of eye-candy; such is your tacit contract with the director.
Mick Jackson doesn't uphold his end of the bargain: at first, we're served a silly but promising premise: the lava is sentient, throwing smouldering homing boulders at people and stores it just cannot tolerate. But after a burning (sorry) humiliation suffered at the hands of the scientist (she warns others of the homing properties of the boulders), the lava just gives up, it just flows at a snail's pace through the streets of LA, half-heartedly trying to catch the heroes before being relatively easily contained.
Let this serve as a warning to anyone looking to make a volcano movie: when your lava loses the will to live, your audience loses interest.
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