Wednesday, 10pm, 5 Star
Outbreak (1995) is the kind of pandemic thriller that feels eerily prophetic, even if it predates the "let's all collectively stay indoors for a year" era by a few decades. Directed by Wolfgang Petersen, the film rides the 90s wave of disaster flicks, throwing in an all-star cast led by Dustin Hoffman, Rene Russo, and Morgan Freeman. The premise? A killer virus from Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) hitches a ride to small-town America via a fluffy capuchin monkey, sparking biohazard mayhem faster than you can say “social distancing.” Petersen's knack for tension – honed in Das Boot – makes even the mundane feel like a ticking time bomb, especially when hazmat suits start showing up at the grocery store.
James Newton Howard's score is like an audio hazmat suit – protective, pulsing, and full of foreboding strings. While it doesn’t reach the iconic heights of his Batman Begins or The Hunger Games compositions, it adds a layer of gravitas to the film's airborne anxiety. The brass sections often feel like they’re heralding impending doom, which is fitting for a movie where Kevin Spacey’s character casually drops dead in the second act. It’s less about heroic fanfare and more about the creeping dread of something invisible yet omnipresent. Think of it as the orchestral cousin to Jaws, only the shark is microscopic.
What makes Outbreak linger, aside from the absurd yet somehow believable bureaucratic cover-ups, is how uncomfortably grounded it feels. This isn’t your sleek sci-fi Contagion – it’s messy, sweaty, and full of 90s tech that looks archaic now. The film’s moral is classic Petersen: humanity’s greatest threat is often itself. Of course, the real MVP is that poor monkey, who arguably deserves a spin-off – Planet of the Capuchins, anyone?
- Noel Chambers