“Twisters,” released July 19 as a standalone sequel to the 1996 action film by (nearly) the same name, is a box office hit by any measure. The movie has grossed $220 million, received rave reviews from critics, and set the record for the most successful opening weekend for a natural disaster movie ever. Before last week, I didn’t even know that category existed.
Now it’s the best movie I’ve seen in years.
“Twisters” follows a storm-chasing scientist and her YouTuber sidekick on a mission to develop a formula to stop Oklahoma tornados in their track. I was reluctant to see it at first. Sorry, but I’ve always been more of the “Sound of Music” type.
For my friends, the chance to see the admittedly handsome Glen Powell (of “Top Gun: Maverick” fame) contributed more to the initial appeal than the tornados. Common Sense Media’s parent’s guide approved the movie for ages 12+, the new bar for those of us who are 21+ but prefer not to watch profanity-laden pornography on the big screen. So I joined my college roommates at the theater.
“Twisters” was a breath of fresh air, great not just for what it includes, but also for what it doesn’t.
For example: sex scenes.
There are various reasons I prefer not to watch simulated sex. Some call it prudish; I call it a healthy fear of God combined with a distaste for sitting next to a perfect stranger while we both witness sexual intercourse on an IMAX screen.
