It has a lot more in the way of special effects than "On the Beach," released the year before, but the special effects look pretty cheesy by today's standards. Not that it matters much because there are so many of them -- tornadoes, heat, floods, mists, the most severe droughts. That's what can happen when you tilt the earth's orbit towards the sun. The most dramatically on display here are advective fog and droughts. See London turned first into San Francisco and then into the Sahel. It reminds me a little of an effective Twilight Zone episode called, maybe, "The Midnight Sun".
Basically we have three parallel stories. Edward Judd plays a reporter whose recently dissolved marriage has deprive him of his son and his sense of responsibility. He drinks too much and doesn't always show up for work. Then he runs into the trusting Janet Munro whom he first betrays, but who then reforms him as any sensible woman would. That's story number one, and I don't mind saying that the Judd reporter is a real heel in the first half of the movie -- glib, pushy, deceitful, and manipulative. And don't give me that sob story about his marriage either. When my marriage dissolved, I flourished.
Story number two is not so deep in the background. Judd, his girl friend, his colleagues and editors find out that the earth is about to be destroyed, after puzzling over multiple disasters such as the blocking of local television signals. The possibility of salvation exists. The boys down in the machinery of the newspaper have prepared two alternative next editions. One headline reads: "Earth Saved. Nation Prays." The other reads: "Earth Doomed. Now Nation Prays." (A pretty good example of the kind of wit with which this script is strewn.) Story number three is a kind of ethnography of a Fleet Street newspaper. How is the tribe organized? What exactly does it do? Well, this sub-story confirms any suspicions you might have had that news people are a pretty solidary and cohesive lot. Intrigues and jealousies, yes, but also covering up for friends and, most of all, thinking of the news to the exclusion of much else. When he is first informed that the world will end in a few months, Judd's chief editor removed his glasses, stares into space solemnly for about three seconds, shakes his head and replaces his glasses and shouts, "CONFERENCE." It's a well-written script. I won't go through all the bon mots that crop up but I'll mention one of them. Wandering through an almost impenetrable fog, Judd and Munro come across a lone crying child. Judd hefts the girl onto his shoulders and tells her cheerfully that now she is taller than anyone. Munro remarks admiringly, "You look comfortable carrying a child," and Judd replies, "My doctor says I have the perfect figure for it." It's not much. None of the wisecracks amount to much, but they do indicate that some clever hands have been at work on the dialog. Perhaps the saddest scene in the film takes place almost at the very end, in Harry's Bar. We've seen it in several earlier scenes, chock full of newspapermen talking their craft, having supper or a drink or both, kidding one another and flirting with Harry's wife. Now, at the end, it's deserted, dilapidated, and dry. Only Harry, his wife, and the three principal actors are there. The wife breaks out a hidden bottle and they share a hopeful drink for some kind of future. (Harry's wife speaks sharply to him about some petty fault and he replies weakly, "You didn't really mean that, did you?") There is nothing sadder than an empty, dusty pub waiting for the world to end.
For 1960, this was a frankly adult script. I don't mean the end of the world so much as the vulgar language and the near exposure of Janet Munro's bosoms. (I realize that "bosoms" isn't exactly the right word but I adopt that usage from fashion photographers who say things like, "Fine, now could you lift your left bosom a bit?") She's seems pretty and bright and has a perfect figure for carrying babies. A shame her world ended so soon.
The finale is corny, though, as if in an attempt to make up for all the cynicism that has preceded it. We hear vague church bells in the background (the producers wanted a heavenly choir) as Judd dictates a preachy speech about love instead of hate and all that, and the film ends with a slow zoom onto the cross that crowns St. Paul's. Stanley Kramer at least spared us that in "On The Beach." But that's only a few minutes out of an otherwise portentous and horribly horripilic movie. All we really need to do is substitute greenhouse gases for simultaneous nukes, and 400 months for four months, and the story we see elicits the slightest of shudders.
Basically we have three parallel stories. Edward Judd plays a reporter whose recently dissolved marriage has deprive him of his son and his sense of responsibility. He drinks too much and doesn't always show up for work. Then he runs into the trusting Janet Munro whom he first betrays, but who then reforms him as any sensible woman would. That's story number one, and I don't mind saying that the Judd reporter is a real heel in the first half of the movie -- glib, pushy, deceitful, and manipulative. And don't give me that sob story about his marriage either. When my marriage dissolved, I flourished.
Story number two is not so deep in the background. Judd, his girl friend, his colleagues and editors find out that the earth is about to be destroyed, after puzzling over multiple disasters such as the blocking of local television signals. The possibility of salvation exists. The boys down in the machinery of the newspaper have prepared two alternative next editions. One headline reads: "Earth Saved. Nation Prays." The other reads: "Earth Doomed. Now Nation Prays." (A pretty good example of the kind of wit with which this script is strewn.) Story number three is a kind of ethnography of a Fleet Street newspaper. How is the tribe organized? What exactly does it do? Well, this sub-story confirms any suspicions you might have had that news people are a pretty solidary and cohesive lot. Intrigues and jealousies, yes, but also covering up for friends and, most of all, thinking of the news to the exclusion of much else. When he is first informed that the world will end in a few months, Judd's chief editor removed his glasses, stares into space solemnly for about three seconds, shakes his head and replaces his glasses and shouts, "CONFERENCE." It's a well-written script. I won't go through all the bon mots that crop up but I'll mention one of them. Wandering through an almost impenetrable fog, Judd and Munro come across a lone crying child. Judd hefts the girl onto his shoulders and tells her cheerfully that now she is taller than anyone. Munro remarks admiringly, "You look comfortable carrying a child," and Judd replies, "My doctor says I have the perfect figure for it." It's not much. None of the wisecracks amount to much, but they do indicate that some clever hands have been at work on the dialog. Perhaps the saddest scene in the film takes place almost at the very end, in Harry's Bar. We've seen it in several earlier scenes, chock full of newspapermen talking their craft, having supper or a drink or both, kidding one another and flirting with Harry's wife. Now, at the end, it's deserted, dilapidated, and dry. Only Harry, his wife, and the three principal actors are there. The wife breaks out a hidden bottle and they share a hopeful drink for some kind of future. (Harry's wife speaks sharply to him about some petty fault and he replies weakly, "You didn't really mean that, did you?") There is nothing sadder than an empty, dusty pub waiting for the world to end.
For 1960, this was a frankly adult script. I don't mean the end of the world so much as the vulgar language and the near exposure of Janet Munro's bosoms. (I realize that "bosoms" isn't exactly the right word but I adopt that usage from fashion photographers who say things like, "Fine, now could you lift your left bosom a bit?") She's seems pretty and bright and has a perfect figure for carrying babies. A shame her world ended so soon.
The finale is corny, though, as if in an attempt to make up for all the cynicism that has preceded it. We hear vague church bells in the background (the producers wanted a heavenly choir) as Judd dictates a preachy speech about love instead of hate and all that, and the film ends with a slow zoom onto the cross that crowns St. Paul's. Stanley Kramer at least spared us that in "On The Beach." But that's only a few minutes out of an otherwise portentous and horribly horripilic movie. All we really need to do is substitute greenhouse gases for simultaneous nukes, and 400 months for four months, and the story we see elicits the slightest of shudders.