Will Jack Ryan Save Us Next Time?

I just got in from a “Sum of All Fear” screening.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m a film junkie. John Wayne’s “Sands of Iwo Jima” is in my DVD player. And as you’ll recall, I just screened the better part of the Kubrick box set last weekend.  I love big dumb blockbusters just as much as indie art house films.

Anyway, Ben Affleck not withstanding, it’s a pretty good flick, but tough to characterize as “entertaining.” See, there’s a scene (spoiler alert) where Baltimore gets hammered by a nuclear bomb. The theater was silent. It felt too real, too possible, too prophetic. The aftermath — fire and debris backlit by bright sunlight — was way too familiar.

While in the film Ben, nay, Jack Ryan, saves the world, I’m not sure there’s a Jack Ryan out there able to save us next time. Walking home, kind of depressed and a little edgy, I’m thinking, “I hope I’m in Hawaii when it happens.”

That’s a dark fucking thought.

But these are darking fucking times.