This weekend, millions of Americans were reminded that we are living in extraordinary times. At moments, it almost seemed like you could feel our place in the great continuum of history — at once stretching backward to those who came before us while also extending forward, onward, to those who’ve been passed the torch.
I am talking, of course, about the Twister sequel.
Twisters touched down in theaters last Friday, nearly 30 years after its precursor was released on LaserDisc and VHS with a message from the FEMA administrator to “never try to outdrive a tornado.” For Hollywood reboots and the meteorological sciences both, three decades is an eon; Twisters’ lead actress, Daisy Edgar-Jones, was born two years after Twister premiered, and while Helen Hunt’s Jo had dreamed of improving tornado warning times in the mid-1990s, the Millennial storm chasers in Twisters own drones and plausibly discuss snuffing out the storms entirely. (Speaking of warnings: There are spoilers ahead.)
Twisters is a movie that loves science and shows its work. Director Lee Isaac Chung reportedly consulted researchers from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and elsewhere to get the basic facts right, and in the opening minutes of the film, the screenplay debunks the common “one Mississippi” method of calculating a storm’s distance (in case you’re not familiar, here’s an explanation); casually references Lagrangian mechanics; and features a memorable PSA on why you should never use an overpass for shelter during a tornado. Twisters protagonists work for, or use taxpayer-funded technologies from, NOAA, the National Weather Service, and the military — a particularly meaningful inclusion at a time when government-funded science is under open threat by one of the leading candidates for highest office.
Even Twisters’ lack of focus on climate change is relatively accurate: While it might feel odd for there not to be an obvious climate nod in a weather disaster movie, scientists still haven’t demonstrated a strong correlation between global warming and tornadoes. Suggesting otherwise might actually have done more damage to public understanding by blurring the line between a frightening enough reality and Hollywood fiction in the name of topical relevance.
Still, Twisters does take some dramatic liberties. At one point, a weaker EF1 tornado breaks the blade off a wind turbine, which probably wouldn’t happen. The most egregious liberty, however, comes at the end of the film, when a tornado runs through an oil and gas refinery and wreaks havoc on the town of El Reno, Oklahoma. “The shelters are full; we’ve got to get everyone to the movie theater!” one character shouts when it becomes clear El Reno is on the verge of catastrophe. (I bet Warner Bros. loved that one.) But at just the moment when the tornado rips out the wall of the theater, turning the defacto shelter full of innocent people into the suck zone, Edgar-Jones’ character Kate is able to deploy a technology that decreases the moisture inside the twister, making it instantly collapse and dissolve.
To be clear, this is about as scientifically accurate as a Sharknado. Though the mechanics are real — Kate shoots the tornado with silver iodide, currently used in cloud seeding, to induce moisture, then saps the storm of water using sodium polyacrylate — the amount of absorbent material required to actually “tame” a tornado would be impossible to deploy. A twister also wouldn’t vanish instantly even if enough chemicals somehow could disrupt its moisture content. As Kevin Kelleher, a scientist who consulted on both Twister(s), told The New York Times, it would likely take closer to 15 to 20 minutes for a storm to — again, theoretically — collapse.
What is more interesting than Twisters’ dubious tornado-taming technique, though, is that it’s a rare positive example of geoengineering in an American film. Prior to Friday, the most memorable example of geoengineering in a widely seen movie was in Snowpiercer, where an attempt to correct global warming goes so awry that Chris Evans is forced to live on a train and eat babies. (This is a safe space from discussion of Geostorm.)
Twisters never reaches the point of exploring the ethics or potential downsides of Kate’s geoengineering experiment, and the credits roll over magazine and newspaper articles lauding her for “Taking Weather Science by Storm.” But Chung, the director, doesn’t let the moment pass entirely unremarked upon, either. The movie showing in the theater when the tornado hits El Reno is Frankenstein — perhaps our most famous parable about the hubris of playing God.
Movies don’t need to be accurate to be good, but Twisters nevertheless makes research and data the objective, nerds the hot heroes, and real-life scientists the background extras. In keeping with its dedication to science, it also takes geoengineering out of the realm of the dystopic; while there are plenty of people still staunchly opposed to climate modification, it is also no longer “one of climate science’s biggest taboos,” as my colleague Robinson Meyer has written.
Far more importantly, though, Twisters is a blast. It never tries to be anything more than what it is: a popcorn-worthy romantic disaster movie. Accuracy is just the cherry on top for us weather nerds in the audience; as one character rightly puts it: “Smile man — science is fun.”
Ember
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