As this chart not-so-clearly illustrates, the Sun will ascend into the tropic of Ubiquity around this time in 3 years. We will fly into the black hole at the centre of the galaxy, which will crush us down to less than the size of a satsuma. The whole process will take about two hours, twenty minutes.

Everyone loves a happy ending. Just yesterday, researchers unveiled that the end of makeshift cancer treatments is in sight. And on Friday 18 December 2009, Terry Wogan’s reign of breakfast radio terror came to an end as he was overthrown by employment law and common sense.

Oh, what’s that? Some people love peril and confusion to dominate the human psyche? One such person is Roland Emmerich?

Update: most cinema goers have a hard on for disaster.

Thejamtart saw 2012 ages ago, and although the plot, script, cast and premise left much to be desired she recommended it for a December cinema outing. Having seen a trailer for 2012, I was enthralled by the prospect of seeing (in modern cinema crikey-vision™ no less) the dome of the Sistine Chapel steamroll over a bunch of Catholics on Saint Peter’s square holding a doomed vigil, including a fictional Italian president. Reduced to the heretic subatomic particles of which they so readily and vehemently discredit the existence, I can’t help but guffaw at the irony like an inexcusable expenses-claiming Labour MP.

John Cusack used to be cool. His performance in The Grifters is challenging and novel. That other thing about the record store was cool too, from what I can remember, so I am dumbfounded that he signed up for 2012; I don’t care if he has the debts of Nicholas Cage and Kevin Spacey combined.

The film reeks of American blind patriotism, but to a degree nowhere near as successful as Armageddon or Independence Day. The stock one-liners and angelic Caucasian WASP kids detract from the already superficial and confused “message” in the subtext. A worryingly convincing Oliver Platt as a jumped-up White House official unwillingly forced to the helm of the world’s decision-making puts forward compelling reasons for humanity to be nipped in the bud. You almost wish it would stop there and the credits roll… alas, it’s not cigarette time yet, there are still droves of world heritage sites to devastate on celluloid!

Emmerich tries to include the despair felt around the world by nonchalantly namedropping landmarks as they crumble into the magma. But when a round-the-world trip just can’t be squeezed in, he just uses Las Vegas imitations of said attractions.

Plight of an all-American middle-class family inextricably linked to world-events spanning a billion miles? Check. Renowned sights irreverently destroyed within the blink of an eye? Check. Yearning monologues meant to be profound that barely scrape the real questions at stake regarding the human condition? Check. A black president with an unashamedly beautiful and cultured daughter in esteemed profession? Check.

Yes, this film has it all, except for good dialogue and quality acting, which are compensated for by quite gripping images made entirely with computers. I would have loved to see the vaudeville remix, where title cards are inserted into the live action in place of actual speech, accompanied by an entirely apposite piano refrain.

I give 2012 a not-inclement 6/10 because I have to admit I was gripped. And it’s still bound to be infinitely better than Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes, the trailer of which made me even less likely to ever see it.

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