All Of Our Fault

by Gary Pryor

The movie San Andreas is what is commonly referred to as a “popcorn movie” which, according to

Wiktionary makes it “a motion picture without serious dramatic content, a weighty message, or intellectual depth, which serves simply as enjoyable entertainment.” But much like the snack food from which it takes its name, the real source of worry is the toppings of the popcorn. Just as light, harmless popcorn can be slathered in butter flavored chemicals and salt, what seems like a harmless, fun movie is drenched in sexism, mindless patriotism, and fear mongering.

We'll start by addressing the film's sexism, since that will let me introduce the cast. First there is the subplot featuring Paul Giamatti (known for his great roles such as Heckler #2 and Guy in Sleeping Bag, according to IMBD) playing a character who is essentially the same scientist who appears in every disaster or monster movie who has figured out everything already but is sadly ignored. He is presented as a generally non-sexual character (likely because he is educated and middle aged) though he still manages to “rescue” the female reporter barely-a-character (played by Archie Panjabi) by pulling her under desks several times during the film.

The main cast which consists of a divorcing husband and wife, their daughter, the wife's evil boyfriend, and an out of place pair of brothers who pal around with the aforementioned daughter. The father figure (who may have had a name, but is so often referred to as “father”, “dad”, or “husband” that I didn't remember it—for simplicity's sake we will just call him the Patriarch) is played by Dwayne “I don't want to be called the Rock anymore” Johnson (known for his roles of having his head animated onto a giant scorpion, and wearing a speedo while yelling at rednecks, according to me). The Patriarch is the man's man, he is here to rescue you, and he will (especially if you are related to him). He enjoys the fun attributes of having no character defects, being strong enough to rip off a car door, having inexplicably caucasian offspring, and having the sound of his voice warp reality in such a way that if you do what he says, no harm can come to you. He does feel bad about the death of another daughter, which he only mentions enough to prove that he is humble and ready to discuss his feelings with his estranged wife, thus reclaiming her. He also spends most of his screen time saving women in distress with his earthquake defying helicopter or making lewd sexual innuendos toward his wife as countless people die all around them.

Next we have the wife (played by Carla Gugino known for being the mother of spying children and having sex with a guy in an owl costume according to IMBD), who hangs around to be the target of the aforementioned innuendos, drive various vehicles while the Patriarch is busy rescuing people, and turn on her new boyfriend in the first 20 minutes so that the central family can reunite before the credits roll. With the exception of the minimal driving, she could easily have been replaced by the family dog—which would have had the benefit of making the innuendos seem really strange. Or with a little more work, a dog could drive and it would be awesome (see San Andreas director Brad Peyton's previous work on Cats & Dogs: Revenge of Kitty Galore).

Now we have the new boyfriend played by Ioan Gruffudd (famous for being THE Horatio Hornblower as well as being the voices of lots of things in lots of American cartoons, according to IMDB). He starts out being portrayed as a well meaning nice guy, but “abandons” the daughter after going for help and taking a severe blow to the head, for which he is never forgiven. We only see him twice after that, his only purpose is to have a character you don't mind getting earthquaked. The Patriarch never directly slanders him (but praises his wife for doing so), showing that he reclaim his prize without breaking proper bro etiquette. A true gentleman indeed.

Finally, we get to the daughter played by Alexandra Daddario (who is famous for having breasts in True Detective and for being in a bunch of TV shows I've never seen, according to IMBD). She is our eye candy, from her introductory scene in a bikini, to several plot points where she has to remove clothing for some contrived reason, spending most of the last portion of the movie soaking wet. The camera lets you know what it wants as it continually happens to look down her shirt. She is characterized as both smart and brave like her father, though she cannot complete any heroic action without yelling about how she learned it from her father, undermining any sense of her being independently brave. She has two companions: a 20-something male love interest and his kid brother, who both compliment her looks in just about every other scene. The manner in which she is the primary sexual focus of the film intercut with scenes of her parents searching for her and talking about parental love just feels wrong. Am I supposed to simultaneously want to fuck her and want her to reunite with her uber-macho dad? The combination of her being the damsel in distress (in spite of being portrayed as capable) and the dissonance between the goal of reuniting with her family and the visual of constantly looking at her cleavage are representative of the film's problematic portrayal of women.

I'll address the film's mindless patriotism next. The Patriarch is introduced in the first scene as an Iraq war veteran, which is supposed to help identify him as a hero. Right or wrong, the idea that people who like dumb things (like this movie) also like the military runs deep in Hollywood. You are here so you most be dumb, so you must love America. Do we really need to see the filmmakers drape the American flag over a ruined Golden Gate Bridge like we are proud that our shit fell down? All I can say is that, for me, every time a movie throws propaganda on the screen to try to convince me that I should like somebody more because he was in the military or happened to live in the U.S., it is a waste of the filmmakers' time and mine.

Lastly, I will discuss the film's fear mongering. I am convinced that the movie is a “what if it happened here” reaction to the Tōhoku earthquake. The Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami of 2011 took place on March 11, 2011. Not coincidentally, according to Wikipedia, “on December 1, 2011, it was announced that New Line Cinema was developing an earthquake disaster film.” So earthquakes were trending, people in the U.S. were scared about it happening to them. Hollywood could never pass up such low hanging fruit. The problem is there are 15,891 confirmed deaths from the Tōhoku earthquake. Real people. Not a fun summer movie—real people who have died. And because people are reasonably afraid of natural disasters, it is incredibly easy to sell people a ticket to a fantasy world where the perfect dad swoops down in a helicopter to save you at the last moment from an exciting disaster. Also according to Wikipedia San Andreas grossed “a worldwide total of $461 million, against a budget of $110 million.” So this capitalizing on actual deaths and legitimate fears sure as hell worked. Surprise! Hollywood is terrible. New Line Cinema should be ashamed of cashing in on an actual tragedy, and you should be ashamed for buying a ticket (even if your girlfriend made you like mine did). So all in all San Andreas was a terrible experience on every level: it's a terrible movie, and you are terrible for watching it.

Gary Pryor is an asshole who complains about movies, has other first world problems, and is an all-around white guy.