Formula disaster film, with only the tiniest ingredient of human interest and (like Independence Day, like Daylight) an overriding dash of canine interest. Because the agent of disaster is a volcano ("She's just clearing her throat. She hasn't even started to sing yet"), there is considerable delay before the big effects, not counting the preludial rain of mud, fire, and boulders in Latin America. When at last they come, they are an anthology of earthquake, flood, fire, and nuclear-holocaust imagery, and they are (yawn) spectacular. Director Roger Donaldson tries to keep things lively in the meantime with a loosey-goosey Steadicam. He instead keeps things merely unsteady. Pierce Brosnan, Linda Hamilton. (1997) — Duncan Shepherd
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