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kontextmaschine · 5 years ago

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Roseburg

Okay, Roseburg. It’s the capital of the southern Oregon timber industry, which fell hard with the end of harvesting on federal lands in the early ‘90s.

It’s got a population of 20,000, in a town center at a bend in the river and several residential neighborhoods, with more modern retail north of the city center around I-5. Several thousand more live in outlying areas, and Roseburg is seat of Douglas County stretching to the coast counting 110,000 population in total.

The airport offers no scheduled passenger service. Flights to major mountain west cities are available 83 miles to the north or 90 to the south; equivalent service is available 15 miles from Bend.

The only college in the area is a community college.

The town center, oriented around a “couplet�� (parallel one-way streets) for a Main Street in Oregon tradition, has government buildings and a roughly five square block downtown. The downtown is early-20th century in character, solid frontages of storefronts with 1-2 stories of residential above, with churches, banks, and apartment buildings on the periphery.

The downtown is not pedestrianized, but has been designed for cars to park on the periphery. One block of storefronts is block-through, with entrances on each of two opposing sides. Many storefronts are empty. Several bars and restaurants are active, with a few (plus a co-working space) that look to have opened recently. Other stores remain looking a little out-of-time, and several storefronts have been occupied by nonprofits, street-level offices, or enterprises that look to create low returns while occupying high spatial volume. A gym occupies one sizeable space, two large markets stand empty. Despite this emptiness, only the markets look truly dilapidated; others have intact windows and clean interiors and reasonably fresh paint and facades. Scattered throughout are several civic monuments and monumental-looking fraternal lodges.

Sloping away from this downtown, the town center contains more stores, warehouses, restaurants, and bars. On the I-5 corridor, several hotels and travel-oriented businesses serve the freeway, mostly north of the town center.

- - -

So, in some ways this is kind of what I’d been expecting to like - a resource extraction town for a collapsed industry, leaving a fully built-out but intact infrastructure ripe for use. With poor flight connections to finance centers and a local economy still tapering off as the legacy population drifts away, an obvious hope is to market the small-town experience to internet workers or others who generate resources in a way that doesn’t require an existing resource base in physical proximity, while in the interim, the courthouse, the remaining private-lands timber industry, and the highway services support a basic level of services.

The maintained facades, the nonprofit offices occupying storefronts, and the general effort to keep downtown looking active suggest a level of coordination by local elites in support of the city’s viability.

- - -

And it’s… Cascadia. It’s green but at the same time younger than the east coast or rust belt - the wilderness hasn’t been carved into as much, the people not guarded, exhibit the good down-home parts of “country” without much “narrow-minded bumpkin”.

Many stores and bars have signs at the doors saying to take hoodies off, no backpacks, no tweekers, this site recorded on camera. There are at many points one to three people who are obviously homeless or on drugs in view. A Greyhound bus stopped in front of one dilapidated market and disgorged 7 vagrant-looking people. Every day the city police log lists like 6 arrests. On sites where these mugshots are compiled and shared around you see these are usually about heroin, meth, thefts to buy heroin or meth, or parole violations by people with convictions about heroin or meth. Even among apparently functional people working behind counters and bars, there are more facial scabs than you expect.

There is, frankly, an absurd level of pro-military sentiment. Signs in all sorts of windows, military discounts everywhere, banners from some past event benefiting some charity for military families. A veteranarian’s office is painted with the American flag, silhouettes of dogs and soldiers saluting or wearing helmets. I wondered if there had been a military base closed nearby because even after a week traveling through much more “red”-than-Portland country I had seen more of that stuff but nothing near that level. I never saw any murdered-out trucks or Punisher skulls or Black Rifle Coffee or 5.11 or any other military-adjacent aesthetic, though. Wearing Chinese-replica BDU pants, I was sporting more of a tactical look than anyone I saw.

Douglas County gave 64% of its vote to Trump in 2016.

- - -

The clear signs of people coming together to keep downtown appealing, all the monuments, the particular aesthetic of the places catering to a downtown crowd (and of that crowd itself), the legacy of what you’d expect from timber barons and their clerks… I was like “oh I get this, there’s a strong country-club Republican strain.”

Knowing that the region’s forest workers were pretty radical (that’s an important thing about Oregon, its normative rural experience isn’t of yeoman farmers but forest workers) I was wondering when I was going to get a sign of that, eventually I realized the yay-military stuff was the expression of class solidarity I was looking for.

Knowing both of those I turned to the addicts and fuckups and was like “ohh, you’re the third player in this drama, the unvirtuous poor that the virtuous poor and white collar types can bond over identifying against”.

A good deal of the nonprofits taking up space downtown seem to be the prison-industrial-complex type, the therapy or treatment you get sentenced to, designed to employ the first group turning the third into the second.

- - -

Seeing Roseburg makes some things about Portland make sense. That, say, when timber collapsed some of the “worker” types or their kids moved to, or stayed in Portland and brought the ethic to food service.

Traditional Oregon is weirdly exclusive, had an anti-Californian sentiment in particular but I’ve heard stores from Washingtonians about getting their cars pelted with rocks in the 80s, the state’s most famous statement of boosterism included a direct request not to move here.

There’s very much a sense that Portland has become swollen with non-Oregonians who seek to impose themselves on traditional, rural, Oregon, I could see a distaste towards any idea of making Roseburg more Portlandish.

When I walked in to look at the co-working space (it’s really just a period office building with individual offices) I overheard a guy saying that he could accept if they just made up a list of the guns it was okay to buy…

And the thing about a strong local elite invested in the future of your town is the town is under the control of a strong local elite with an interest in its future, presumably wanting to keep or develop it as its own playground.

At the same time, whoever owns all those buildings would very much like to see them filled at competitive rates I’m sure, and property owners are the backbone of any local elite. (I do not know the in-town landholders’ relationship to the woodland barons.)

- - -

So. Promising. It’s a charming Portland-in-miniature, houses are still available in the $100s and apartments at $500/br/mo. Between empty and underused space there’s maybe 10 years of solid expansion before all the slack has been taken up, and by all appearances the local system would love to see it happen and has no better pitch than quality-of-life-experience, being what Portland was in the 90s.

(Even the class system isn’t terribly off, a lot of the “Portlandia” years were about importing a middle class to fit between the old money in the West Hills and the retreating border of “Felony Flats” across the river to the east.)

That said it’s not abandoned just waiting for my guiding hand, there are preexisting power structures and culture to accommodate or challenge. And if undermining the local culture is the last thing I want - it’s what appeals to me, and the loss of which I’m mourning in Portland – I’m already thinking “okay that’s honestly too Republican, but that’s the only way to end up with a tolerable culture after it floods with creatives so hey”.

This is assuming it does take off, which I honestly think is a good assumption, as the big west coast cities fill up and cascade down (in the interim, look at Olympia, Visalia, Sacramento, Eugene, and Fresno) but isn’t inevitable. Oregon environmental laws and declining influence of Republican state legislators could further undermine the rural economy. Things could just keep declining past the point of being able to keep up appearances - the VA hospital just closed its emergency room, and there are two more in the area but the reasoning was the difficulty of recruiting and maintaining specialized staff, and that’s a bad sign.

Maybe I’m just psyched to see an authentically Cascadian town again and I should check out some others before getting swept away, in Oregon alone I’m still virgin on Albany, McMinnville, Forest Grove, and Coos Bay.

Still, I dunno. Might be a site for a good life.

#no I have like a lot to tell you

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embracetheapocalypsewithme · 7 years ago

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In the Twilight Kingdom - Chapter 2: Sunlight on a Broken Column

Notes: Hey! So, I kind of gave up on this fic for a while...but I’m back! So, hopefully I still got it. After many months, here is part two!

Chapter 1: The Hollow Man

Summary: Negan decides to be a hero and save the people trapped in the corner store from the horde waiting outside. Can he help these strangers without getting himself killed in the process?

Word Count: 2,288

Content Warnings: Negan, Negan being Negan, angst, swearing, and mentions of suicide and death.

Chapter 2: Sunlight on a Broken Column

Negan continued to make his way down the main street which ran across the front of the corner store, leading as many of the dead away with him as he could. He walked backward, forsaking speed for the ability to keep an eye on the horde as it pursued him.

“That’s right, deadies! I am the Pied Fucking Piper of dead fucks today!” he chirped at them defiantly, continuing to lead them toward the city like the Grand Marshal of the worst parade ever conceived.

The street grew wider as he kept moving, lanes multiplying to accommodate the traffic that had once choked these arteries which led to the heart of the city. The dead had begun to fan out, some of the fresher and quicker ones beginning to catch up with him from the sides. Jesus, they could be fast when they had something they really wanted to rip apart from limb to limb!

The large man quickened his pace, turning from the pursuing group to jog slightly ahead and put some distance between them. Once he was satisfied that he was far enough ahead, he turned around once again to track their progress. His eyes scanned over the crowd, which now seemed to contain at least 25 or 30 of the things, all staggering toward him with their jaws clattering together as they prepared to sink their teeth into his flesh.

“Not today, motherfuckers…” he murmured to himself, jogging into the distance once more.

Or he would have, had it not been for the rock that caught his heel as he prepared to spin around. The momentum of his body being suddenly cut from below caused him to go down with his arms pin wheeling, trying to grasp onto something to break his fall. But there was nothing to be done about it. He was going down.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” were the words that came out of his mouth as he fell for what felt like an eternity. But inside of his head, the only thing he could think was: So, this is how it ends. Not a question, but a statement. A resignation to an end.

Maybe this was for the best. How long could anyone survive in a world where the dead walked and society had ceased to exist? By the time his ass collided with the pavement, he had decided that he was ready to go. He wasn’t sure if he believed in heaven or hell, but he hoped that if there was something after, the first sight he would see would be Lucille’s eyes staring down at him, warm and amber and full of love. He would wrap his arms around her and he would tell her all of the things he never had in life. They would lay in one another’s arms, forgetting that anything existed outside of themselves; a couple of self-indulgent assholes…but happy ones. Finally.

This thought brought him a wave of peace, and he allowed his eyes to close as he waited for the first of the dead to catch up with him, and for the pain that was sure to follow. But instead of gnarled fingers grabbing at him, he was jettisoned from his fantasy by the thunder of semi-automatic rifles taking out the first few rows of dead as they approached him.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get the fuck up and run, asshole!” came a male voice from his left side.

His head whipped in the direction of the sound as another round of fire, this one coming from the right, took out more of the walkers. There was a man crouched behind a fence who wildly gestured at Negan to run toward him, and to the relative safety that the structure provided.

Maybe today wasn’t such a good day to die. Maybe he needed to keep going just a little while longer.

Scrambling to his feet, Negan made his way to the man and climbed over the fence, landing on the grass at an angle that made his bad knee, an injury from his days playing high school basketball, cry out at him in protest. Before he had time to lament the pain, the man was dragging him up and away from the fence.

“Come on. We have to go. They’ll reach us soon.”

The two began to snake through back yards and toward a side street which ran parallel to the main street that Negan had just come from.

“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” Negan asked, still allowing the man to lead him away as the first of the walkers began to pound their fists against the brittle wood that had scarcely concealed the pair moments before. The fence would be down in a matter of minutes, but he hoped that they wouldn’t be there to see it.

“Scott,” came the man’s blunt reply.

“Who’s Scott?”

“I am. Not Stan. Scott,” the man’s voice was clipped an irritated as they reached the edge of the corner store parking lot.

“Well, ‘Scott’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘plan’…” Negan mumbled to himself.

The lot was now mostly free from the walkers, save for a couple of incapacitated stragglers that crawled along the ground in the direction that their comrades had gone. It was almost sad watching them struggle mindlessly to feed; rotting on the pavement as they were reduced to nothing more than teeth and nails always reaching out for more without really understanding why.

“We’ve gotta get back to the meeting point,” Scott informed him, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, “It’s not too far from here, and most of the rotters are headed in the opposite direction thanks to you.”

“Well, you are so very welcome, Scotty, but I think I’ll be heading home now. Been a hell of a fucking shitty day so far.”

The man’s eyes locked with his before seeming to scan his body, taking in what Negan assumed was his size. He’d always been a tall man, and an athletic one at that. He could handle himself in a fight, so long as he didn’t wind up tripping on any wayward rocks, and he was certain that these were exactly the thoughts going through Scott’s head as he sized him up. Big, scary looking motherfuckers were becoming a resource now that police and emergency services were gone.

“We have food,” Scott replied dispassionately, “And water. And electricity…for now anyway.”

Negan’s ears perked up at this. Since he had wasted precious scavenging time and risked his life saving the man’s ass, the least he was owed was some food. Especially since he was unlikely to find enough time left in the day with which he could still go scavenging. Plus, he hadn’t had a hot shower in at least a month. Not since the power went out in mid-August.

“Ok, Scotty, my friend. I’ll take you up on your kind offer. But just for the night, you understand? I’ve got things to do, ladies to fuck, ping-pong matches to win…You get the idea!”

“Right,” a hint of skepticism had snuck in the smaller man’s voice, “Gotcha. And don’t call me ‘Scotty’. I hate that shit.”

The “meeting point”, as Scott referred to it, was the parking garage of what appeared to be a government office building of some kind. It was largely deserted, except for a few vehicles that had clearly been sitting there since the time of the outbreak. Negan supposed that many of the missing cars had departed along with their owners when the going had gotten real shitty in the beginning of the outbreak. He couldn’t say that he blamed them.

The two men walked tentatively into the structure of concrete and steel, keeping an eye out for any of the dead that might be lurking in the shadows. You could never been too careful in enclosed spaces like this. One careless turn could bring you face-to-face with chomping teeth and clutching hands. And that was if you were lucky. If you weren’t lucky, your ass would get dragged down from behind by one of the dead without any warning whatsoever, and that would be the end of you.

It was these very thoughts that caused Negan’s hand to jump instinctively to the knife hidden in his right pocket at the sight of a vaguely human shadow moving at the far end of the garage between the wall and one of the support pillars. His shoulders squared up and his jaw clenched as his body began to go into fight of flight mode. He could handle one or two; maybe more than that if Scott was any good with his gun in an enclosed space, but more than that and he was getting the fuck out of dodge. No warm shower was worth two swarmings in one day.

“Calm down,” Scott said sternly before calling into the distance, “Sam?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Negan hissed, taking a step back and preparing to run, “They hunt by sound. Do you want to draw them all to us-“

“Scott?”

A soft female voice cut off Negan’s tirade mid-sentence as the owner of the distant shadow stepped into a beam of light that cut across the asphalt, revealing themselves at last. “Sam”, which he now assumed was short for “Samantha”, was tall and slender, with long limbs and impeccable posture. Her chin-length dark hair fluttered in the breeze as she seemed to almost glide toward them with nearly unnatural grace. Her eyes, a deep brown like his own, were still clear with only the beginnings of the stress of her current circumstances dragging them down with dark circles and worry.

A slight fluttering sensation in his chest tickled him at the sight of her. God she was beautiful. It was almost unbelievable that someone so beautiful was still alive and standing right in front of him. He felt his mouth open and close as he struggled to find the right thing to say to her.

It was only a moment before the grief slammed into him like a wave sweeping him overboard into a cold and dark ocean. The flutter was gone, replaced with that gnawing nothingness at his core where Lucille used to be.

“No.”

The word echoed against the stones that surrounded them, repeating over and over. No. No. No. Who said that? Sam’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed at Negan as he felt Scott turn to stare at him. It was at this point that he knew he had been the one that spoken the singular word.

“No what?” Scott asked, his voice taking on a tentative edge that let Negan know he was starting to creep them both out.

“Sorry. My head was somewhere else,” Negan replied, plastering on his most charming smile and chipper voice. He stepped toward the woman, who had stopped walking toward them, and extended his hand, “You must be Sam.”

Though her eyes were still quizzical, Sam’s expression softened a little, “How did you ever guess?”

“Just a hunch, I suppose.”

Scott took this opportunity to step into the conversation, turning his body to more fully face Negan, “So, now you know who we are, but the question remains: Who the fuck are you and what the fuck were you doing out in the street? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Well, Scotty-boy...” he began, relishing the annoyance that registered on the other man’s face as he once again butchered his name, and “I’m Negan. And if you were one of the jackasses in the corner store earlier, I guess I was out in the street trying to save your ass. You’re fucking welcome!”

Watching Sam out of the corner of his eye, Negan thought that he caught just the hint of a smirk on her lips before she sobered up and let her expression drop back to neutral.

“That doesn’t explain what the fuck you were even doing there,” Scott mumbled.

“I was there to get some fucking food. You two half-wits got yourself surrounded inside of my only supply of canned goods and other fucking non-perishables. Thanks to you, I’ve got no food left at home and no time left in my day to get more. So, yeah. I’ll say it again: You. Are. Fucking. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Negan.”

Sam had stepped closer to the two now and her face seemed sincere as she peered up at him. Negan observed Scott scowling at this as he folded his arms across his chest, but he kept his mouth shut.

“You didn’t need to stick your neck out for us,” she continued, “But you did. And I think we may not have made it without you. So…thanks! Really. From both of us, right Scott?”

“Yeah,” Scott practically pouted, “Thanks, Negan.”

“Well, thanks for the ‘thank you’, Samantha and Scottifred. That’s the formal version of Scott, isn’t it? Scottifred? Any-fucking-way, your thanks is kindly fucking appreciated.”

“Since we sort of ruined your grocery trip, the least we can do is invite you upstairs for dinner tonight.”

“Upstairs?”

“We’ve been living up there,” the woman pointed up at the building that loomed over them, “It’s not much, but it’s relatively safe and we still have power from the back-up generators for now.”

“Well, that sounds just dandy, Sam!” Negan smiled down at her, “And I believe there was talk of a warm shower, was there not, Scott?...Hey! That one rhymed! Heh.”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say,” Scott replied, still scowling slightly as he began to lead the way toward the building’s entrance, “Come on up and get your fucking shower on. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

#comicnegan>#negan #twd negan #Negan's thirst squad #negan fanfiction

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Greenland: Why Gerard Butler’s Disaster Movie Matters Now

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Once slated to arrive in theaters long before COVID-19 crash-landed in 2020 and upended the entire world, Greenland stars Gerard Butler as John Garrity, an Atlanta-based structural engineer who struggles to save his family as a planet-killing comet speeds toward Earth. Thanks to his skills, Garrity is one of many otherwise ordinary people who have been selected to hole up in massive underground bunkers in the country of Greenland, in the hope that he and others can emerge unscathed and begin rebuilding after the comet wipes the rest of civilization off the face of the globe.

The journey of Garrity, his estranged wife Allison (Morena Baccarin) and their diabetic son Nathan (Roger Dale Floyd) as they try to reach an Air Force base and catch one of those flights to Greenland is the driving force of the film. The human melodrama is front and center, with the havoc caused by chunks of the comet arriving ahead of schedule relegated almost to the background. Greenland works surprisingly well — it left this writer a bit shaken at points — because it doesn’t flinch from showing us how regular folks will react to the imminent end of everything. Brothers and sisters, it ain’t pretty.

“I think it’s going to be really impactful for people to watch and connect,” says Baccarin. “I think we’ve all dealt with some level of fear and anxiety and the feeling of helplessness and not knowing what’s going to happen. Those are some major themes in our film. Hopefully also (viewers) will feel hopeful for humanity and hold their dear ones close.”

Greenland was originally slated to come out in theaters last June, before a different kind of hell broke loose all over the world and scrapped those plans. Like other films, its release date bounced around a few times, and with no end to the COVID-19 pandemic in sight, STX Films pulled it off the theatrical calendar and will now launch it in the U.S. this Friday (December 18) on premium video-on-demand, to be followed by an early 2021 run on HBO Max.

For Baccarin, Butler, and director Ric Roman Waugh, whom we speak with separately via phone, Greenland has taken on a whole new layer of meaning and relevance in the wake of the catastrophe that the world has endured with the coronavirus.

Waugh explains, “It was very, very surreal to make a movie and you’re dealing with what you think are all hypothetical scenarios. To me, there was always two monsters in the movie. It was not only Clark (the name given to the comet) that was going to bomb the Earth, but it was humanity itself. What are we capable of as human beings when we’re put into life or death situations?”

It was the environmental nature of the film that helped draw Butler to it.

“I love these kind of movies, but I think it’s hard to avoid them in today’s age,” says Butler, who keeps his natural Scottish accent in the film. “It’s very much at the forefront in any topic anywhere. It’s what’s happening to our planet and the environment, so I felt that even though Greenland was a kind of fun little jaunt, it actually underneath has a very serious message.”

Butler, who starred in the weather-related disaster flick Geostorm back in 2017, thinks that his new entry in the genre is a more elevated piece of work.

“I do feel that this had a maturity to it as a disaster movie,” he says. “It wasn’t Hollywood in any way. It has all the spectacle, but it has so much more depth and meaning. And it very bravely just sticks with this family no matter what. It’s with them, so everything that’s being seen and experienced is all through their lens. That had a very powerful and intense and relentless feel to it, but also kind of beautiful and touching and emotional.”

Greenland was under development for several years, with Chris Evans initially signing up to star in 2018 and Neill Blomkamp (District 9) directing from a script by Chris Sparling. Even after the film went through some turnover and both Waugh and Butler — who had worked together on Angel Has Fallen — joined the project, the basic premise, structure and character arcs stayed the same.

“We definitely reinvented a bunch of areas that become more contingent on the locations where we were going to shoot, and some subject matter that we wanted to capture,” says Waugh. “But the structure of a man and woman on equal footing, trying to win their marriage back, and then suddenly forced on this journey to the point they’re even separated and in their own way stripped down to their primal state, was something that was in the original script that I really felt passionate about.”

Waugh says that Butler was on board from the start with the idea of showing John Garrity not as a take-charge, two-fisted hero capable of getting his family through anything, but as a competent yet frightened man thrust into a situation over which he has no control and for which he may not have the proper tools to protect his loved ones under such unexpectedly dire circumstances.

“What I love about Gerry is he’s fearless,” elaborates Waugh. “He’s not afraid to show his vulnerabilities, to play a flawed character, to be sensitive — things that I think are more masculine for a man than a lot of the action heroes or characters that I see in today’s movies that are impervious to pain.”

The director continues, “I wanted to go back to what they did in the ‘70s and early ‘80s, where these people were flawed. They dealt with real issues and we related to them because we felt like we were part of them. I loved that about the Garritys — we’re experiencing this event from their perspective, but we can’t stop thinking about ourselves in this situation. How would we deal with these things?”

To that end, much of Greenland plays out on a more intimate scale, with the Garritys encountering obstacles that would almost be mundane in nature — missed phone calls, extensive traffic jams, accidents — if they weren’t happening against a backdrop of impending cataclysm. “I wanted to get a sense of what it was like to be in those situations,” says Waugh. “So instead of watching the Garritys go through a sequence with everything happening around them, you’re actually with the Garritys in that vehicle, hearing and feeling and seeing it the way that they’re feeling and hearing and seeing it.”

One of the more plausible aspects of Greenland, believe it or not, is the destination the Garritys are trying to reach: a series of bunkers on the island nation in which at least a segment of humanity can survive the extinction level event. Such bunkers, built during the Cold War, may in fact have existed or might still exist, given the presence of the U.S. Air Force’s massive Thule Air Base on the island.

“They were built during the Cold War, for nuclear fallout,” explains Waugh. “Just like we have other bunkers within the continental United States…We’ve been data collecting for 20 straight years, ever since the Patriot Act was passed following 9/11. If you have that data, and you can only save 300,000 or so people out of 330 million, who would you save? You would save people based on skill sets that can rebuild. You would pick doctors and structural engineers, biochemists and farmers.”

Waugh continues, “I love the fact that Gerry’s not, in the movie, some astrophysics scientist guy who’s going to figure out how to do it. No, he’s just the guy that builds buildings. His super power is his heart. It’s his own moral compass in how he’s going to get his family to safety. I thought that was a really interesting way to make this grounded. When we’re in these types of life or death situations, and I think the parallel is COVID, you understand that it’s touching us all. We’re either going to rise above it and be a part of it and be united, or we’re going to cower in our little dark holes and fail.”

While the ending of Greenland leaves the fates of the Garritys and the rest of humanity in a very uncertain place, Waugh says he’s ultimately optimistic that humankind could prevail even in the most unimaginable circumstances: “I believe in humanity. I believe in mankind. And I believe that we’re going to be here longer than the cockroaches. Hopefully, Greenland gives you that sense of hope as well.”

Butler, ending our chat on a lighter note, hopes in some way that viewers watching Greenland — despite the movie’s grim scenario — will be able to forget their and the world’s own real-life problems for two hours. “I think it’s great to be able to escape into another kind of crazy reality,” he offers. “And even though there are similarities and the pandemic’s pretty awful, the planet is not quite being wiped out by a comet. So you go, ‘Well, at least it’s not that bad.’”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Greenland is available via premium video on demand (PVOD) this Friday (December 18).

The post Greenland: Why Gerard Butler’s Disaster Movie Matters Now appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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