Poseidon and Politics

Upon the fifth anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 commentators have argued that American popular cultural has not changed significantly since the day that supposedly “changed everything.” A significant cultural change, however, occurred around 1980: the ascendancy of Reagan and the exhaustion of the 1960s counter-culture. The effects of this change are still with us and have not been affected by 9-11. A good way to gauge this development is to compare The Poseidon Adventure (1972, directed by Ronald Neame) with its 2006 remake, Poseidon, directed by Wolfgang Petersen.

J. Hoberman describes seventies disaster films--including The Poseidon Adventure--as politically retrograde artifacts in which “the sixties didn’t happen.” But on the S.S. Poseidon, a luxury liner on its final voyage from New York City to Athens, sixties rebelliousness has become the norm. In the first scene a child passenger, Robin Shelby, (Eric Shea) sneaks onto the bridge and is lightly scolded by Captain Harrison (Leslie Nielsen). This bit of business is a sentimentalized version of the youth-adult conflicts that roiled the protest era. Back then, young people were invading and occupying all manner of adult spaces. More rebelliousness follows. An irate passenger questions the ship’s doctor’s judgment. Robin disobeys his older sister. A people’s priest argues with the ship’s Chaplain. The Captain argues with a businessman more concerned with money than the ship’s safety. The ship’s Purser jokes that the Captain doesn’t actually run the ship, which will become a reality shortly. The Poseidon needs something much less potent than a tidal wave to turn it upside down.

Mild dissidence becomes near-mutiny after a tidal wave capsizes the ship on New Year’s Eve. Reverend Frank Scott (Gene Hackman) disobeys the Purser and leads a group of survivors out of the main ballroom to journey upwards through the ship to attempt an escape through the upturned hull. Scott and his party ignore authority again when they decline to join a group of survivors lead by the ship’s doctor, which is heading towards the bridge in the hope that the Captain is still alive and can help them.

Poseidon also begins with youthful rebellion. Robert Ramsey (Kurt Russell) enters his stateroom aboard the New York-bound S.S. Poseidon to find his daughter Jennifer (Emmy Rossum) snuggling with her boyfriend Christian (Mike Vogel). Ramsey politely scolds his daughter for what he sees inappropriate behavior. But rather than take it in stride Jennifer becomes enraged and storms out of the room, rejecting his discipline as patronizing. But her rebellion is short-lived. After the ship is capsized by a gigantic wave Ramsey and Jennifer must slide across a firehose suspended across the ship’s devastated lobby to continue their ascent to the ship’s hull. To psyche themselves up for this risky venture they pretend to reconstitute an earlier father-daughter relationship. Ramsey affectionately reminds Jennifer of her childhood propensity for getting lost and asks her if she is too big for a piggyback ride. “Not today,” she says. After their successful crossing Jennifer doesn’t challenge her father again. Ramsey’s reassertion of control over his daughter, her willingness to return to dependency, to be infantilized, tempers her drive for independence and shows that established authority cannot be pushed aside easily. Father knows best.

The 1972 film is no less interested in strong male leadership, but it is more populist-pluralist, which is demonstrated in the creation of the group’s escape plan. James Martin (Red Buttons) correctly observes that any rescue attempt will have to come from the hull above them. Robin provides the useful factoid that the ship’s hull is thinnest at the propeller shaft at the stern, making it the most likely spot to escape the ship. Scott quickly agrees with Martin and Robin and sets his dissident group in motion. By contrast, Poseidon’s rescue plan develops from the top down. Dylan Johns (Josh Lucas) starts to leave the ballroom on his own and others beg him to take them along. The pluralist-teamwork theme is also present: Ramsey establishes himself as a co-leader by combining his desire to find Jennifer with John’s escape plan.

Although Scott’s rescue effort has a communal inception, internal conflict plagues the group’s journey. Scott is constantly challenged by the boisterous Detective Lt. Mike Rogo (Ernest Borgnine). At one point Rogo mutinies against Scott’s leadership and demands that Scott personally reconnoiter the engine room (the goal of their journey) to see if it is passable. The Poseidon Adventure, reflecting the “crisis of confidence” of the period, devotes more time to leadership struggles than any other disaster film. Unlike the Scott-Rogo relationship, Ramsey never disputes or undermines Johns. They quickly become a well-matched, effective team. Lucky Larry (Kevin Dillon), however, does challenge Ramsey’s authority, much like Rogo challenged Scott. But unlike Jennifer, who gave up her rebelliousness and survives, Larry remains an unrepentant Ramsey-basher and is quickly punished: he dies crossing the ship’s lobby. Rebel against authority at your own peril.

Within Scott’s group the distinction between leaders and followers does not stay fixed, at least not for very long. The heroic role may even pass from men to women. When Scott becomes trapped in a flooded corridor a heavy-set grandmother, Belle Rosen, (Shelley Winters) dives in and rescues him. After Belle dies of a coronary, Rogo praises her; “You had a lotta guts, lady. A lotta guts.” In Poseidon no one woman gets to show a lot of guts, but there is a greater overall involvement by women.

A nod towards gender equality occurs soon after the ship capsizes. Jennifer and Maggie James (Jacinda Barrett) struggle unsuccessfully to free Christian from collapsed scaffolding in the ship’s nightclub. Lucky Larry intervenes and demonstrates the proper way to use leverage. But despite using a better technique the scaffolding won’t budge and Larry hesitates. Jennifer however, won’t give up. Like any good disaster film heroine she inspires others to persevere and they eventually lift the debris off Christian. Thus in standard pluralist fashion male mechanical aptitude and female devotion and constancy combine to get the job done. Later, Elena Gonzalez (Mia Maestro) successfully dislodges a stuck survivor in a tense air duct scene, but it’s not nearly as surprising and dramatic as Belle’s rescue of Scott.

The closest equivalents to the Belle-Scott rescue scene in Poseidon, however, reorder age and genders roles backwards. Late in the journey Maggie becomes separated by a wire mesh from her young son Conor (Jimmy Bennett) as the space around them fills with water. But instead of a woman rescuing a man, a man (Johns) rescues the boy while the woman looks on. Rather than showing “guts”, Maggie is immobilized with grief and fear while a man gets the job done for her. Finally, John’s crazily brave high dive into the flooded lobby can be read as a response to Belle’s dive. John’s dive is far more impressive. The spectacular stunt function belongs to men now.

Michael Ryan and Douglas Kellner note that The Poseidon Adventure was “the first disaster film to sympathetically incorporate young people.” The youngest character, Robin, provides crucial plot information, while the next youngest character, his sister Susan (Pamela Sue Martin), provides crucial sex appeal. The ever-skeptical Rogo, however, dismisses Robin’s input, essentially telling the boy to let the grown-ups handle this. But Robin is ultimately proved right. In Poseidon, however, the proper relationship of the generations that Rogo desires has been achieved. This time, the propeller shaft idea comes from an adult; Johns. And in a complete reversal of the 1972 film an adult has to explain to a skeptical child why this is a good plan. Conor can be an annoyance by wandering off alone and becoming trapped as well as a savior by using his small fingers to open a sealed grate confining the protagonists. But unlike his 1972 counterpart Conor lacks youth culture impudence or any escape ideas of his own.

Near the end of the film, Christian volunteers for a dangerous underwater mission in place of Ramsey (threatening to expand the category of natural leaders to younger adults). But Ramsey sneaks off and undertakes the mission before Christian can get going. Ramsey nobly sacrifices his life for others but also preserves the exclusive leadership class of experienced males. Between the two films one can sense the fading of the sixties glamorization of youth and the rise of the ideology of Reagan-Bush-Bush: grown-ups are in charge again.

There is an instructive parallel between Red Buttons’ lonely haberdasher in 1972 and Richard Dreyfuss’ heartbroken gay architect in 2006. James Martin (Buttons), laments the lack of romance in his busy life. Richard Nelson (Dreyfuss) laments his recent abandonment by his longtime companion. Both men have polished manners, stylish attire and are physically unimposing. They are outside the norms of movie physical heroism. Martin even jokes about not having virility. Despite their similarities, Nelson’s story is Martin’s story turned inside out. While Martin is accorded twee nobility, Nelson is merely pathetic. While the optimistic Martin has the crucial insight that they can be rescued through the hull, and near the end of the film provokes a despondent Rogo into action, the defeatist Nelson merely chimes in unhelpfully that, as an architect, he knows that ships are designed to float right side up, not upside down.

As their journey begins, Martin bonds with the younger Nonnie Parry (Carol Lynley), a delicate flower child/singer in go-go boots and hot pants grieving over the death of her brother. Martin dedicates himself to making sure Nonnie keeps up with the others and survives. Nelson also takes a protective interest in a younger woman (Elena). But unlike Nonnie, Elena dies. Whereas Martin could play the heroic male and help Nonnie through submerged passages, Nelson becomes stuck in an airshaft, trapping others below, requiring Elena has to dislodge him. Although Nelson does help ably when the group crosses an elevator shaft, the incident concludes badly. In order to escape the shaft, Nelson must shake off a man hanging onto his legs (Nelson does this at Johns’ prompting). The man falls to a painful death.

Disaster films rarely pose “lifeboat ethics” dilemmas this brutally. But according to the movie’s logic of natural leadership, better that Nelson do this than Ramsey or Johns, whose heroic statuses must remain untainted for the group to survive. Nelson is offered no opportunity to redeem himself and for the rest of the film he fades into the background as one of the rescued. The lesson? In 1972 a meek haberdasher can contribute to a group effort and try on the mantle of heroism. In 2006 a middle-aged gay architect can expect much less and less can be expected of him. The meek merely get in the way.

If children and “wimps” come off worse in 2006, officialdom comes off better. The Poseidon’s 1972 crew bears much responsibility for the tragedy. The crew gets plenty of advanced warning in the form of radio messages and radar signals, but only takes action when they see the wave with their own eyes (an allegory of incompetent American leadership in the seventies is suggested here as well). The 1972 film also features a businessman villain; Linarcos (Fred Sadoff), a representative of the ship’s owners. He countermands the Captain’s order to take on ballast and maintain slow speed because doing so would slow the ship’s progress to its final destination: disassembly and the scrap heap. In American cinema it is always a bad thing when a politician or businessman in a suit exerts power over a man in uniform--think of the mayor and business leaders in Jaws (1975) countermanding Chief Brody. Although Linarcos is not responsible for the tidal wave, disordered leadership is part of what makes the Poseidon vulnerable to disaster.

By contrast the 2006 Poseidon crew is completely blindsided and blameless for the disaster. A “rogue wave” sounds a lot like a “rogue state,” something totally unpredictable, completely beyond American responsibility and control. There is no nasty businessman pulling rank on the Captain. There is no advanced radar signal for the Captain to ignore. In fact, Chief Officer Reynolds (Kirk B.R. Woller) senses something wrong in the sea before the wave appears. He is the equivalent of the government agents who investigated the 9-11 perpetrators but were unable to prevent the actual attacks. And while only one rescue helicopter reached the upturned Poseidon in 1972, the final shot of the 2006 film is an aerial panorama of an ocean buzzing with rescue vehicles. Average citizens in distress can count on a swift government response (another 9-11 reference).

The leader-protagonists of each film also have roots in officialdom. Both Scott and Ramsey represent institutional authority and public service. Scott is an ordained minister. Ramsey is an ex-firefighter and an ex-Mayor of New York City. But it’s been a rocky road for both men. Scott was stripped of most of his clerical powers and Ramsey was turned out of office and abandoned by his wife. Thus they are simultaneously insiders and rejected outsiders. But Scott’s rebelliousness goes to the heart of his character. Proudly defiant, Scott’s anti-pietism sounds like atheism and his advocacy of poor people hypothetically setting fire to buildings to keep warm sounds like an endorsement of the Watts Riots. Scott even chastises God when things look bleak.

If Scott evokes a dissident leader like anti-war Senator George McGovern, Ramsey combines memories of Mayor Rudolph Giuliani and the heroic New York City firefighters of 9-11. Ramsey’s unflustered exercise of authority demonstrates that leadership requires neither Scott’s impassioned unorthodoxy nor a non-conformist pose (the old Reagan ethos). Since society is less disordered, and institutional authority more trustworthy, a less rebellious leadership style is required.


Whereas Ramsey is a centrist by nature, Johns—the de facto rescue leader--undergoes a centrist transformation. Johns evolves from a gambler who preys on the weak to a hero who rescues the weak. At first, Johns intends to rescue only himself. He declares, “Look, man, I work better on my own,” the basic rugged individualist credo. But Johns (who also happens to be a Navy veteran) quickly adjusts to group activity, becoming the leader of a rescue party.

Hollywood films are often sprinkled with expressions of pluralism (“political correctness” in conservative parlance) that counterbalance conservative elements. Poseidon is no exception. The captain of the ship is African-American, two of the protagonists are Latino, and a gay man is among the survivors. Reflexive sexism is criticized when Ramsey thanks Christian for saving Jennifer when in fact Jennifer saved Christian. But unlike blockbusters such as The Day After Tomorrow (2004), Revenge of the Sith (2005), and War of the Worlds (2005), which took veiled and not-so-veiled swipes at the Bush Administration, Poseidon allegorizes Bush-Cheney’s favored image of itself: a cohesive team of responsible leaders protecting the public in the wake of catastrophe. Indeed, Lucky Larry’s disrespectful attitude towards Ramsey resembles Blue State “Bush-bashing." Just as liberals “unfairly” criticize Bush, who is only trying to defend us (so he claims), Larry pointlessly excoriates Ramsey, who is trying to rescue him.

Vietnam Era disaster films often conclude with images of ruin and despair. The final image of Tora Tora Tora (1970), a military-historical disaster film, is a panorama of burning and capsized American warships in Pearl Harbor. The Poseidon Adventure concludes with a shot the ship’s keel facing the sky, like a dead animal on its back. The hero is washed down a drainage tunnel in Earthquake (1974), while the surrounding city of Los Angeles looks like the ruins of Dresden. Steve McQueen glances sadly at the covered bodies of dead firefighters near the end of The Towering Inferno (1974).

Millennial disaster films, by contrast, are more optimistic and conclude with images of rejuvenation. The Force 5 tornado in Twister (1996) conveniently punishes the villains, serves to romantically reunite the heroes and morphs into an expression of the Spielbergian Sublime. After lava floes turn Hancock Park into Jurassic Park, Volcano (1997) concludes with a post-Rodney King parable of racial harmony. The deaths of 1500 people in Titanic (1997) serve to liberate Rose Bukater (Kate Winslet) from the constraints of the British class system and Victorian chauvinism. The film concludes with a glowing fantasy restoration of the sunken ship, with Rose reunited with her dead lover. The instant ice age that blankets North America in The Day After Tomorrow causes tornadoes and tidal waves, but ultimately cleanses the earth’s atmosphere of pollution and the American government of arrogance. Both the hyper-kinetic Armageddon (1998) and the sober, fact-based World Trade Center (2006) feature hellish landscapes of destruction but conclude reassuringly with jubilant celebrations. United 93 (2006), a disaster-docudrama based on the disrupted 9-11 airline hijacking, is one of the few recent films of the genre that lacks a reassuring coda. At the moment of greatest tragedy the screen simply cuts to black.

The differences in plot and imagery suggest that the seventies were, to use the cliché, “uncertain times”—much more so than our time. The Poseidon Adventure, as much as any film, reflects the mood of the seventies. Just as the Poseidon is struck by a tidal wave soon after surviving a gale, America—having endured racial discord, assassinations, counter-cultural turmoil, and civil disturbances in the sixties--was slammed by inflation, unemployment, an “energy crisis,” a Presidential resignation, defeat in Vietnam, and a hostage crisis in the seventies. Majorities believed America was on the wrong course and that the future would be worse than the past. Millennial disaster films don’t express this level of pessimism, suggesting that an equivalent level of pessimism doesn’t exist in society at large, even after 9-11.

Despite unjustified fears of the Y2K social breakdown (a disaster film that never happened) and justified post-9-11 fears of terrorism, recent American disaster films have been geared towards redemption and renewal. Granted, it’s hard to find something positive in a capsized ocean liner or in the rubble of national monuments, but American optimism insists on it. And Hollywood films, despite what is often alleged, have been serving us this optimism for decades.