‘Twisters’ is a Predictably Perfect Piece of Blockbuster Cinema

Spoilers ahead!

Universal Pictures/Warner Brothers Pictures 2024

At a glance, Twisters functions as a charming, formulaic piece of American lifestyle propaganda. We watch a woman, caged by her trauma to a New York City life, return to her beloved Oklahoma and rediscover its beauty; rodeo shows, small-town community and goodwill, her mother’s fiery determination, and terrible weather.

The formula is simplistic and every beat feels safe. It’s glaringly obvious that our opening team are bound to die except Daisy Edgar-Jones’s Kate, and every notable character after is safe from any tornado-related demise. Despite the increasingly dangerous circumstances our characters find themselves in, there's no sense of real jeopardy. Some scenes are cut clumsily — a scene in the third act, during our final tornado, sees Glen Powell’s Tyler Owens knocked down by a tram car, a sequence which plays out within three jarring two-second cuts — and the country soundtrack sometimes feels too on-the-nose for the scene it’s paired with.

And yet Twisters plays as cinematically refreshing somehow. Kate leaving the secretly nefarious state-funded company and joining Tyler’s rag-tag group of diverse Southerners who provide hot meals for victims of the tornados they chase is a beat that is technically predictable but feels exciting to witness unfold. The action sequences deliver exhilaratingly; my second viewing was in 4DX and was possibly the best cinema experience of my life, but even without the effects I was breathless and engaged. Tyler and Kate’s unfolding relationship is stifled by editing decisions, but Powell and Edger-Jones’s tension and chemistry break through.

One of my main gripes with Twisters is its failure to deliver on Tyler and Kate’s kiss (which was recorded, known as a behind-the-scenes video of filming circulated online months prior to the film’s release). Tyler’s defiant gesture outside the airport falls short without the unmistakable romantic context a kiss would have given it, and the film itself comes across as unfinished as we focus on Kate and Tyler as they gaze at each other. The removal of the kiss scene was a note from Steven Spielberg himself (which makes sense, of course), but does nothing to serve Kate’s character or the narrative payoff. Kate having a personal arc related to trauma and altruism is not mutually exclusive to Kate having a love interest. Edger-Jones has argued the lack of kiss halts the film from falling into cliché, but the film is already plenty cheesy and audience-pleasing (in the best way possible, I should add), so what’s one more slice of cheese?

Universal Pictures/Warner Brothers Pictures 2024

Matching the sexual tension of Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton in 1996’s original Twister is virtually impossible, but Powell and Edger-Jones get damn close to it; they match that only-I-understand-you desperation that makes their relationship so satisfying. Without acting on that tension, Tyler and Kate’s relationship falls short.

Its function as a legacy sequel works very well, building upon the more single-minded theme of Twister to offer commentary (albeit, surface-level) about climate change and capitalism in the face of climate change. What’s surprising is that director Lee Isaac Chung told CNN he had no intention of “preaching” a message about climate change to his audience. It is strange to create a film so imbued with both textual and subtextual references to climate change’s devastating effects on people’s livelihoods, and then shy away from explicitly depicting that pertinent fear to avoid “preaching a message”. Even more confusing is how at odds Chung’s choices are with his assertion. The rodeo scene in particular is shot with a degree of reverence that feels almost overindulgent, but the ensuing action sequence of disaster and terror provides a lens into why. Oklahoma is loved in front of this camera; America is loved. And the American people are loved. They are empathised with deeply. Mutual aid and care are encouraged and rewarded.

With this in mind, I found the collective homely, familial dynamic that 1996's Twister established between the tornado chasers strangely absent. While Tyler Owens’s Wranglers are vaguely reminiscent of it, I felt they needed more downtime together for us to believe in their familiarity. Although, the side characters of Twisters are more memorable individually than those in the original. The Storm-Par team make for engaging antagonists too, despite Anthony Ramos’s character having a muted screen presence and muddled motivations.

Is Twisters better than its predecessor? Yes, in most ways. With a stronger narrative and fully-fleshed characters, it carves itself a space in our contemporary blockbuster hall of fame. Glen Powell is a beacon of survival for the Hollywood movie star, and Daisy Edger-Jones proves herself immensely as a blockbuster lead, bringing natural earnestness to her role. And in my opinion, it’s a lot more fun.