Armageddon

Another potentially planet-destroying asteroid is hurtling earthward, and it must be destroyed or diverted from its deadly path. Another group of astronauts must be dispatched into space to nuke it into some less antisocial mode. Again, an anxious world prays for deliverance.

Been there, done that. Just a month ago, come to think of it. Except that Armageddon, as directed by Michael Bay, doesn't give a hoot about making a deep, humanistic impact on us. Or even a shallow one. If it can be said to be about anything other than orchestrating the explosive string of special effects on which its last act endlessly dwells, it is about class conflict.

Yes, you read that right. For to shatter the mighty meteor, a hydrogen bomb must be sunk deep into its core. That means hiring a wild bunch of wildcat oil drillers, led by Bruce Willis, to do the deed. They are all overgrown boys, designed to appeal to the undergrown boys who are this movie's prime audience. The roughnecks immediately start squabbling with the fly-right NASA nerds--representing responsible, clueless adulthood--who must hurriedly train them for space flight, deliver them to their target on time and admit in the end that obstreperous irresponsibility has its uses. Stupid as this may sound, there's some fun in this conflict--maybe more than the tympanum-rupturing music and effects track allows you to hear.

--R.S.