My favorite scene is when Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio comes up with her plan. "I drown. You carry me back." It's a scene which works in near freezing water without a dive suit, rather than the similar situation of two people one spacesuit in a disabled shuttle pod. My second favorite part is Bud getting into and descending 2½ miles with the liquid breathing suit.
My father did research for his Master's at Cornell in the early 50s on fluorocarnbon properties and when I once told him about Fluorosil, a liquid artificial blood replacement that can carry oxygen without red blood cells, he knew about oxygen carrying fluorocarbons.
I like The Abyss very much, but my complaint about it is similar to the complaint I have with Mission To Mars -- you could have a tight adventure without resorting to aliens or UTIs. Doesn't mean you can't do this story, just... isn't going to Mars or working at 2000 feet of water interesting enough? If the SFnal isn't actually required to make the same story, is it good SF?
About an hour into the flick, Michael Bay must've said, "Geesh, I haven't blown up a city in 45 minutes. Let's blow up Shanghai." Or what's purported to be Shanghai, since it more resembles the Chinese pirate waterfront from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise than the outstanding modern city in China.
Another guilty pleasure movie, it's a feel good anthem for a point in human history where we have some idea of what to do if a planet killer comes along, but have emaciated our space program in the name of business over science so we couldn't do a fucking thing about it. Great. That gives me warm fuzzies at night.
There is so much wrong with this movie, you can only go with the eye candy and revel in the over-the-top characters out of Central Casting. Do you really believe that NASA keeps suits on hand for giant roughneck sized mission specialists? Do you really think they'd let the boys go on an unsupervised night on the town? Still, I think Billy Bob Thornton in a leg brace is suitably low-key here to work.
Also, given where I am watching the flicks, there is Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler next to the site of the Apollo 1 memorial plaque.
They are getting ready to launch and listening to the President's stirring speech. Into space when we pick up tomorrow and send the ENTIRE Physics textbook out the window when we meet tomorrow.
This was the first day of outpatient hyperbaric oxygen therapy. Drove in. They have valet parking for handicapped parking hang tags, and got me a wheelchair and left me at the info desk in the lovely airy lobby. Woman from HBO got me and brought me back. Only change from the first two sessions was a shirt instead of a hospital gown over my grey shorts and now that I am home, I have an extension on my PICC line, which had to be taped to my forearm. We're getting a system.
With three tanks and four two-hour sessions during a day, they are running 7 of 12 possible dives a day. All the others are in the morning. I've still never seen another tank in use.
All told, not quite four hours door-to-door. With a two-hour IV in the morning, my work day "at home" is pretty much already taken. Cold equations, my friends. Cold equations.