Armageddon

This idiotic film is loud, boorish and smart enough to relish its own lunkhead bravado, with Willis leading his team of deep-core drillers on a last ditch mission to plant nuclear bombs inside an asteroid hurtling towards the earth. 'Talk about the wrong stuff,' gripes a disgusted NASA official, checking out the roughnecks selected to save the world: Affleck's cocky AJ, David's mighty General, and Buscemi's scene-stealing sociopath Rockhound, men whose most heartfelt request is that they be granted tax exemption for the rest of their lives. Producer Bruckheimer (Con Air, Crimson Tide) has this brand of testosterone entertainment down pat. Crucial elements include a sterling supporting cast (Stormare as a reckless Russian cosmonaut, Thornton as Houston's pointman, Patton and Fichtner riding shotgun), biting down on lines beefed up by the likes of Scott Rosenberg and Robert Towne. It's just as well it's all so tongue-in-cheek, because the one thing Bay can't sell is sincerity: lovey-dovey scenes involving Tyler and the supine populations of the world are excruciatingly hokey.