NBC's 'Apocalypse 10.5': Let's Get Ready to Crumble!

It might be safe to assume that the film's creators had no intention of anyone but the most wildly gullible viewers taking it seriously. Beau Bridges, for instance, returning in the role of the president of the United States, is so achingly earnest -- such a pained and pudgy pillar of cornball concern -- that he gets more ludicrous with each aggravated appearance. The role is a lazy actor's dream; he gets to spend nearly the whole miniseries in one room, the movie's version of Camp David, fielding reports from hither and yon. One of the yons happens to be Barstow, Calif., once the brunt of gibes from Johnny Carson. At regular intervals, Bridges emotes soulfully into the telephone: "I need to know we're doing everything in our power to help those survivors!"

When Las Vegas sinks into the sand -- for reasons not thoroughly explained -- one of the casinos takes Dr. Hill's cantankerous father, Dr. (of course) Earl Hill, with it. Papa, whose relationship with his daughter is rocky -- do you suppose they will reconcile tearfully by the end of the film? -- is played by Frank Langella in a performance that he can only hope is the absolute nadir of his career -- unless he gets so desperate that he accepts a part as, say, talking toilet paper in a Charmin commercial.

Papa Hill, incidentally, is supposed to be the world's greatest expert on the "accelerated state of geologic activity" that's going on. Papa Doc even wrote the book on it: "Chaos Theory and Seismic Anomalies." Thus, it seems somewhat odd that after learning of the recent collapse of Hoover Dam and the subsequent inevitable flooding, he repairs to a casino bar to dawdle over a leisurely cocktail and is surprised to feel a certain rumbling underfoot.

Dr. Hill: "Did you feel that?"

Bartender: "Feel what?"

Dr. Hill: "Oh, probably nothing."

Probably nothing? Hoover Dam is only about 35 miles from Las Vegas. But the genius goes back to his booze.

Expecting credulity from a movie this absurd is itself absurd. Lafia, who also directed the film, must have decided as he sat to write the script that it would contain not one sentence of dialogue that viewers -- at least of this kind of movie -- hadn't heard before. Little of it is spoken, of course; most of it is shouted, a la "Gotta get it on; let's go!" and "Where the hell's the backup?!" and "Something's definitely not right here!" and "I don't like the sound of that!" and "John, get out of there!" and "Come on, let's get out of here!" and "Let's get the hell out of here!" and, from one fireman to another: "Come on, man, gimme a kiss. Gimme a big, big kiss."

Oh, about that last one -- Brokeback Mountain is not the site of any catastrophes. The request for a kiss is made jokingly by Oliver Hudson as fireman Will Malloy to Dean Cain as his brother, fireman Brad Malloy. Hence, later, as a sunken casino is searched for survivors: "My brother's still down there! Brad! Brad! Brad!!!"

Voice from tumbling rubble below, presumably Brad's: "Eeeeyahhhhhhh!!!"

One has to wonder, considering the number of actual and devastating natural disasters that have battered Mother Earth during the past few years, why such films as "10.5" hold appeal for any viewers, much less the 10 million or 20 million -- depending on various circumstances -- likely to tune in (the film's first half, airing tonight, has considerably more special-effects footage than Part 2, which is essentially "Poseidon" with a sunken casino replacing an overturned ocean liner). Perhaps the phoniness of faux disasters provides relief from the terrible grimness of the real ones.

And in the "10.5" movies, FEMA, other federal agencies and, generally, all those holding political office or otherwise in charge, perform not just competently but valiantly. Their dedication to duty is exceeded only by their tireless inventive skill. Any resemblance between that and the real world, one assumes, is entirely unintentional. Even though millions die and the configuration of the continental United States is drastically altered, "Apocalypse 10.5" still manages to ring a chime of hope.

So while one could feel thoroughly confident in calling the film preposterous, ridiculous, even laughably nonsensical, you'd be on shaky ground calling it boring. It isn't, and it isn't depressing. That's two big points in its favor right there.

As for the ringing of the chime, it needs no defense. Since one hears the sound so seldom from television, it scarcely matters that it's as false as the virtual Vegas or the bogus Barstow.

Apocalypse 10.5 (four hours): Part 1 airs tonight at 9 on Channel 4; Part 2 airs Tuesday night at 9.