[No. 3 Contents | JAST Homepage]

The film plays it big right from the start. In its first, uncut sequence the camera falls from the sky against the sea, races over its surface and stops right between the legs of a man. The man urinates into some kind of alchemic device which produces drinking water. He opens a tap and consumes the result with a deadpan expression. True, there is a certain sense of humor here which is sadly absent from most parts of the film. Simultaneously, though, the sequence (which was filmed with a steadycam) is a gesture of empty opulence created by expensive technology. Filmed almost entirely at the sea,Waterworld (1995) marks the point at which Mr. Big struggles with the forces of nature. Every scene of the film radiates constraint: the constant process of waiting for the right type of postcard sunset, the right kind of smooth water surface, and the right type of deep blue sky. Lots of time and material were wasted so that the production costs exploded to a hitherto unparalleled 180 million dollars. So far,Waterworld has grossed about 80 million throughout the world . . . Kevin Reynolds invites us into an ecological dystopia; a world after the melting of the polar ice and the sinking of the continents. The survivors are split into two parties. There are the Atollians, who live in a water fortress in the middle of the sea. And there are the bad guys who found shelter in the wreck of a tanker, Hell's Angels in pirate outfits. Their leader Deacon (Dennis Hopper) is a bald-headed impersonation of evil, an over-blown amalgam of Stalin, Sun God and Bond's arch-rival Blofeld. Deacon empties the last bottle of Jack Daniels and distributes cigarettes called "Black Death" to his followers. His antagonist is Kevin Costner, a no-name hero who does everything on his own. In the end, he sets sail again to depart into nowhere. In between, both Hopper and Costner become involved in the search for some kind of mythological island which is inscribed at the back of little Enola (Tina Majorino). Enola is protected by Helen (Jeanne Tripplehorn), who is attractive but a very bad actress. They both join Kevin who speeds through the sea on a steel Trimaran, a postmodern version of Bond's Aston Martin. Reynolds and Costner have plundered thousands of years of cultural heritage. Columbus, Captain Ahab, Atlantis--it's all there. In their cinematic potpourri, clichés follow each other in such rapid succession that they produce a highly demystifying effect called boredom. The action sequences alone quote a whole universe of Hollywood movies while, simultaneously, promoting a post- Marlboro sense of spare-time adventure. Water skis function as motorbikes or "Mad Maxian" turbo cars. Free-climbing and bungee-jumping make Costner the Indiana Jones of the Sea, whereas the rest of the action scenes follow the logic of Die Hard. There is always the right rope lying around somewhere to save the hero's life, and if things get too dangerous, the enemy's gun is not loaded. The overall effect is that of a total cinematic void.

Costner's real saving island is not very mythological. It's about 100 million dollars away. I propose that we send the guy to Plan 9 from Outer Space instead.