A Soggy Disaster, 13 Years After

One of the big disappointments this coming holiday movie season was the push to 2009 of The Road, reputed to be a very faithful, bleak adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy novel. The book falls into the genre of post-apocalyptic fiction, as a father (now played by Viggo Mortensen) tries to keep himself and his young son alive following some unspecified environmental catastrophe that's turned the planet mostly to lifeless ash. Coincidentally the paperback tie-in version arrived about the same time on my desk as another such tale: the much-derided Waterworld, the costly, controversial 1995 epic that nearly sank Kevin Costner's career.

Not only does the two-disc Waterworld set include the original 2 hour and 16 minute cut, but a new expanded version that clocks in just shy of three hours. Three hours of Costner, people! Three hours of Waterworld! You know I had to to watch, partly because I wanted to see how the movie holds up in our post-An Inconvenient Truth age of global warming and dying carbon-based industries. In today's climate, Waterworld's resource-gobbling pirate Dennis Hopper (pictured above), looks like the guy running G.M., and Costner more like a Prius-driving prophet of good environmental stewardship.

Rerelesed on DVD last week, Waterworld was, during the time of its nearly two-year production in Hawaii, derided for its cost (about $200 million) and egotistical indulgence of its producer and star (you know who I'm talking about). All movies made on or about boats always invite disaster and cost overruns; and both Jaws and Titanic had equally bad press before emerging on dry land. But those films triumphed with their reviews (mostly) and box office. What went wrong with Waterworld?

In part, we'd already seen the saga of a nomadic, morally ambiguous antihero roaming the wasteland in the three Mad Max movies. Reuniting with his Robin Hood director and friend Kevin Reynolds, Costner was riding high on his Dances With Wolves, which won seven Oscars (two for him as director and producer). He was on a box office hot streak running back to 1987's No Way Out. So maybe he felt entitled to all those long silent close-ups.

Costner was, unlike Stallone or Schwarzenegger, a sensitive action hero for the Clinton era. He was sorry about the way we'd treated the Indians. He didn't like the way we were ruining the planet, so he made a movie about it. And, in 1995, when the economy was booming and Detroit was cranking out SUVs as fast as we could buy them, maybe America didn't want Costner's finger waving in our face--especially in the guise of a dystopic action movie.

The movie's opening credits could almost be incorporated into An Inconvenient Truth, as the Universal Studios globe is gradually overrun by the rising blue seas until no land is left. Then we cut to Costner's (initially) nameless hero on his tricked-out trimaran, peeing in a cup, filtering the urine, drinking the processed water, and spitting the rest in a little potted tree. From the drowned planet to the precious soil. It's great, economical opening and statement of themes.

After that, however, the movie never finds a balance between its cautionary message, the fiery explosions and Jet Ski marauders (the gasoline- and nicotine-addicted "Smokers" led by Hopper), Costner's relentlessly dour, laconic hero, and the remnants of human society. There is no sci-fi story underlying the movie. The two Kevins apparently made it up, then enlisted writers who labored all the way through the marathon shoot. As a result, though Waterworld has Planet of the Apes ambitions (another clear influence on the story), it's like they took every one of the Apes sequels and jammed them into the same damn movie.

Who are the scared, socialistic survivors living on the floating atoll where Costner comes to trade? How did they band together, devise their peculiar society, become so frightened of outsiders? That's like one entire movie to explain, but the recut Waterworld simply gives us more of mad scientist Michael Jeter.

Then there's the rival social model of the Smokers, who live on board an old oil tanker--get ready for the irony--powered by slave rowers, like a Roman galley. Hopper hams it up mightily as their leader. He drives an old car on the vessel, practices his golf swing, and, calling himself the Deacon, preaches thusly: "We are in fact the church of eternal growth. More land and more people!" He's like a fun, one-eyed Cheney, while Costner is the guy who always scolds you for improper recycling practices. Our toxic consumption may have ruined the world, but Costner is hardly the happy warrior for its restoration. Even Shane knew how to crack a smile every once and a while.

Poor Jeanne Tripplehorn has to guard the girl with the map to dry land on her back. Worse, she has to feign romantic interest in Costner's mutant, an amphibian with gills and webbed feet. How can you go wrong with mutants? Think of Star Wars or Total Recall. Mutants are supposed to be fun, with extra fingers, bizarre habits, and special powers. But Costner makes a grim business of recycling the scraps from our submerged civilization.

When talk turns to us, "the ancients," and our legacy, Costner spits out, "This is what they made of it!" I.e., we ruined the planet. And Waterworld is our punishment today.

Waterworld. Universal Home Ent., $19.98.