Sebastian Junger's biographical bestseller concerning a group of fishermen trapped in the heart of a terrifying super-storm brought about by a bizarre series of meteorological coincidences was a gripping and intelligently realized novel.
Sadly, the same cannot be said for the film, which is flat and largely unenthralling until the final catastrophic moments. Much of the problem for the film comes from the structure and the dialog. The novel had the luxury of giving background on the fishermen and establishing the atmosphere of the town and its history with the sea. It also related the tales of several groups of people trapped within the destructive fury of the storm other than the fishermen. By contrast, the film has limited time to establish the fishermen and their town and the end result is laughably bad dialog that seems lifted from Marlboro Man or Miller Lite commercials. Whenever an obstacle rears its head George Clooney's team leader shouts "Are we Gloucestermen?" The film focuses almost solely on the fisherman and omits altogether or barely gives a nod to the other people trapped in the storm. Blink and you might well miss Cherry Jones and Karen Allen in thankless roles as some of these survivors. As the focal crew is ill-fated obviously what occurred on the boat in the final hours is supposition. The book took the position that due to the failure of communication it was debatable how much the fishermen knew on the severity of the situation in which they found themselves. By contrast, the film views them as fully aware macho posturers who steam full speed ahead into danger and damn the consequences. They are little more than clichéd peacocks attempting to prove their masculinity and the film ends up trivializing both the men and their lives.
Given the thinness of the roles, none of the cast seems able to rise to the occasion. Most of the supporting cast is forgettable. Clooney was still in his head-bob/smirk phase that characterized some of his earlier film work. Mark Wahlberg is probably the most developed of the men, but he runs the gamut of emotions from point A to, well, point A. Meanwhile, back on dry land, the usually reliable Diane Lane (as Wahlberg's girlfriend) turns in an increasingly embarrassing performance which becomes more out of control with each new scene. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio shows up briefly, as a colleague on another boat, to flirt with Clooney and then concludes her performance with a laughably over-the-top hysterical warning to Clooney that rings totally false in its histrionics.
The effects are astounding, but one must have a reason to identify and become emotionally involved with the participants (as readers were with the novel from which this came). The film, however, supplies us with cardboard thin, totally unbelievable caricatures that spout inane patter at each other until the effects take over from them. A real let-down.
Sadly, the same cannot be said for the film, which is flat and largely unenthralling until the final catastrophic moments. Much of the problem for the film comes from the structure and the dialog. The novel had the luxury of giving background on the fishermen and establishing the atmosphere of the town and its history with the sea. It also related the tales of several groups of people trapped within the destructive fury of the storm other than the fishermen. By contrast, the film has limited time to establish the fishermen and their town and the end result is laughably bad dialog that seems lifted from Marlboro Man or Miller Lite commercials. Whenever an obstacle rears its head George Clooney's team leader shouts "Are we Gloucestermen?" The film focuses almost solely on the fisherman and omits altogether or barely gives a nod to the other people trapped in the storm. Blink and you might well miss Cherry Jones and Karen Allen in thankless roles as some of these survivors. As the focal crew is ill-fated obviously what occurred on the boat in the final hours is supposition. The book took the position that due to the failure of communication it was debatable how much the fishermen knew on the severity of the situation in which they found themselves. By contrast, the film views them as fully aware macho posturers who steam full speed ahead into danger and damn the consequences. They are little more than clichéd peacocks attempting to prove their masculinity and the film ends up trivializing both the men and their lives.
Given the thinness of the roles, none of the cast seems able to rise to the occasion. Most of the supporting cast is forgettable. Clooney was still in his head-bob/smirk phase that characterized some of his earlier film work. Mark Wahlberg is probably the most developed of the men, but he runs the gamut of emotions from point A to, well, point A. Meanwhile, back on dry land, the usually reliable Diane Lane (as Wahlberg's girlfriend) turns in an increasingly embarrassing performance which becomes more out of control with each new scene. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio shows up briefly, as a colleague on another boat, to flirt with Clooney and then concludes her performance with a laughably over-the-top hysterical warning to Clooney that rings totally false in its histrionics.
The effects are astounding, but one must have a reason to identify and become emotionally involved with the participants (as readers were with the novel from which this came). The film, however, supplies us with cardboard thin, totally unbelievable caricatures that spout inane patter at each other until the effects take over from them. A real let-down.