For many years I lived right on the San Andreas Fault. (The real estate agent told me don’t worry, my house was on “rock.” Not to be confused with the Rock, the star of the summer’s mega-disaster movie, San Andreas.)
Years later, I moved over to the East Bay’s Hayward Fault. Finally, after a brief period on the other side of the country, home to numerous other faults of the non-geological kind, I returned back to the Central Valley of California, where even in its fault-free flatness, one cannot apparently escape the effects of the big earthquake.
In San Andreas, the Rock drives up the center of the state from Bakersfield (home of the Buck Owens museum for you Hee Haw fans) only to find the road has fallen into itself as the massive quake has created a chasm that cannot be crossed.
Such a reassuring movie to see while on vacation in the middle of the country!
As disaster films go, it is much more realistic than say, the old technologies in Towering Inferno or Earthquake.
In the “movie as amusement ride” category, it’s not bad.
But my big complaint is in the casting.
