FILM REVIEW: The Impossible

If this looks like fun to you, go see "The Impossible."

To say the absolute very least, the opening sequence of "The Impossible" is intense. If you ever want to know what it feels like to be swept up in the crushing first moments of a tsunami when it hits full force--and let's face it, who doesn't -- just find this movie playing in a theater -- that's hard enough here in Maine -- and then sit in the front row.

Do not do this if you have a heart condition, or any condition, really. I went with a friend who has a low blood-sugar condition I can't pronounce that sounds like "bagel vagel." As things got worse and worse onscreen, my friend whispered that she needed some air and hurried out, stumbled and lost consciousness, falling backwards and hitting the back of her head on the floor. An ambulance was called; ice was applied, I was summoned from the audience and-- yada, yada, yada--I never saw the rest of the movie. But what I saw was damn good, and certainly the only life-threatening part.

It was Christmas in Thailand, 2004. You remember: that tsunami. Naomi Watts stars as the vacationing mom who gets ripped to shreds by all sorts of crashing debris in the roiling waters that just moments before were a picturesque backdrop to the upscale beach resort she was visiting with her hubby and three kids. One minute she was reading a book in her shorts and sunhat, the next she was fighting for survival among the cars and vans and palm trees and tables and mattresses and chairs and appliances and electric power poles floating by, just like we saw on the news. Then one of her kids floated by, and you will be happy to hear they finally floated together. (Since this was based on a true story, I am free to say that everybody lived, except the 230,000 other people who died, but we are not here to talk about them.)

What I wonder is how Naomi is doing after making that movie; surely she had to be hospitalized. I certainly hope they did it in one take.