What Twisters Left Behind 

TWISTERS. Even in 1996, when we didn't know how good we had it, some of us approached Twister with what felt like a healthy degree of skepticism. Despite being Jan de Bont's follow-up to Speed (1994) — which was, if we're being honest, almost revelatory for what and who it brought to the action genre — a natural disaster movie seemed like a relic of a bygone era, an attempt to revitalize The Towering Inferno (1974) school of all-star studio money-makers that would seem to have been left behind in the transition to Hollywood's second golden age. (Little did we know there were pairs of both volcano and meteorite movies on the way). But Twister became something of a phenomenon, a major financial success and, apparently, the sort of much-beloved legacy film that can spawn a sequel almost 30 years later. 

In service of transparency, I saw Twister; once, I think. Impressed as I was with the flying cow and the ensemble cast, I've never returned to it. For whatever reason, it, like the above mentioned disaster pictures that would follow, did not and have not resonated with me. So, when excitement for Twisters began to mount, and when the trailer (Glen Powell's wet t-shirt and all) started to circulate, I was left with maybe a little more than my usual amount of befuddlement. I guess as long as there's weather and sexual tension, we'll have screenplays about it (?). 

Anyway, my trepidation was leavened, at least a little, by the knowledge that the sequel was directed by Lee Isaac Chung, whose last feature, Minari (2020) became an unexpected success. That movie, as I understand it, was an autobiographical exercise born in part of Chung's frustrations with navigating the chutes and ladders of the film industry, a sort of resigned return to the intimate that could have marked the end of a career. But, as can sometimes be the case, it was so true and honest, so warm-hearted and funny and sad, that it marked an altogether different jumping-off point. Which is to say, Chung got Marveled up (or shall we say Amblin'd) by Steven Spielberg and recast as a director of tentpoles.

We have yet to see what this sort of transition (and exponential increase in compensation) will mean for the directors who have been drawn up through the vortex and into the digital maelstrom of mega-budgets and decisions by committee; I tend to fear it represents a creative point of no return. What we do have, empirically, are the documents themselves, the major movies helmed by people who achieved whatever degree of success and fame by making minor ones. In this case, there is precious little of Minari visible in Twisters; no surprise and more's the pity. But I'll circle back to that. 

In Tornado Alley, Oklahoma, circa five years ago, a team of college students led by storm-savant Kate (Daisy Edgar-Jones) are in the field testing Kate's theory about tornado abatement. Things go terribly wrong when she follows her instincts into a storm more ferocious than anticipated and lives are lost. Cut to the present day and she has taken a desk job at the weather service, traumatized but perhaps content to have left her greater ambitions in the Sooner State. That potential contentment is tested by a visit from her old colleague Javi (Anthony Ramos), fresh from a stint in the military and armed with dazzling new storm-imaging equipment. He persuades Kate to accompany him (and his corporatized team) for one week, just to see how it feels. She relents and soon enough they're back in Oklahoma driving trucks into twisters. 

Once they're on the ground, of course, the plot thickens: They are immediately confronted with a rival squad (and their YouTube channel) of misfits led by a handsome, charismatic former rodeo cowboy named Tyler (Powell). Kate's scientific passion and a need to somehow correct her own past miscalculations turn the competition into an uneasy partnership, underpinned by some uncomfortable discoveries about Javi's financial partners.

The principal cast all do sturdily charming, earnest work with their characters, and the interpersonal dynamics are almost enough to buoy a script that feels more like an outline. And while the effects are impressive (they'd have to be, wouldn't they?), the first 20 minutes transition from TV movie exposition into a Spielberg tribute concert. 

What's missing here is the attention to minutiae, the amplification of voices so often unheard, that made Minari a work of significance. Twisters succumbs to the charms of its own scale, dismissing lower-key character arcs in service of ostensible excitement. I'm genuinely glad the movie is proving to be a success, and to an extent I feel guilty damning it with faint praise (maybe it was just me in the moment ...), but I never felt a real enough sense of danger or connection to the characters to be truly invested. It's a popcorn movie, fair enough, but couldn't it have been more?    PG13. 122M. BROADWAY. MILL CREEK.

John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.

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