Jack Hall, paleoclimatologist, must make a daring trek from Washington, D.C. to New York City, to reach his son, trapped in the cross-hairs of a sudden international storm which plunges the planet into a new Ice Age.
Ray Ferrier (Cruise) is a divorced dockworker and less-than-perfect father. When his ex-wife and her new husband drop off his teenage son Robbie and young daughter Rachel for a rare weekend visit, a strange and powerful lightning storm suddenly touches down. What follows is the extraordinary battle for the future of humankind through the eyes of one American family fighting to survive it in this contemporary retelling of H.G. Wells seminal classic sci-fi thriller. Written by
The convoy scene used only around a dozen vehicles: mostly Humvees with a few trucks thrown in. There was one M1 tank and one self-propelled cannon (mistaken for a "tank" by most civilians). The convoy roared past Robbie, Ray, and Rachel on the roadside perhaps a half-dozen times. Editing together various shots from different angles created the impression of a much larger convoy. See more »
After Ray finds out that Robbie took the car, he runs into the street. In the first shot he stops at least 6-8 ft away from the solid double street lines to turn, yet in the next shot he's standing right on the double lines. See more »
No one would have believed in the early years of the 21st century that our world was being watched by intelligences greater than our own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns, *they* observed and studied, the way a man with a microscope might scrutinize the creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency, men went to and fro about the globe, confident of our empire over this world. Yet across the gulf of space, intellects vast ...
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There are no opening credits after the title is shown. See more »
The first half hour it leaves hour breathless. The characters don't know what hit them, but we do. We know all about it, a world of the worlds is about to take place, with nasty creatures from outer space. This elementary rule, we, the audience are a few steps ahead of the characters on the screen. It makes our anticipation of their realization an spectacular thrill. Then, of course, it's all downhill from there. Well, not all. Tom Cruise is in it. I have to hand it to him. Looking at his name in the poster, lots of useless but unavoidable information came to mind. Katie Holmes and Brooke Shields and L Ron Hubbard, Oprah, Matt. The lot. And I'm one who doesn't watch much television, imagine someone who does! In any case, much to Tom Cruise credit, I completely forgot all that nonsense as the movie started and I was able to concentrate on the nonsense at hand. He is really good. I took him seriously. I felt for him. He's playing a loser with an empty refrigerator and I believe it. Totally. The problems in the movie are of a different kind. The same way that you can't mix Kubrick and Spielberg and A.I was a blatant example of that. In War of the Worlds we discover H G Wells and Spielberg don't go together either. Wells, H. G as well as Orson Welles played with our inner fears without computer generated images. I imagine that playing with the intellect would have been too frightening to Spielberg, Paramount, Amblin and Dreamworks. So I guess that part of the master plan was to give us something of what, they imagine, audiences the world over expects of them. But, it doesn't work like that. It should be the intellectual wallop of H G Wells or the sentimental pyrotechnics of Steven Spielberg. Together, they do not go. Okay, I've unburden myself of my thoughts, now, I recommend you to see it and make up your own mind. Within the sad desolation of the film going summer of 2005, there is enough solace within the horrors of War of the Worlds to make you feel you haven't wasted your afternoon.
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