strong>I’ve always found films in the Weather-Action genre to be overwhelmingly unbelievable and underwhelmingly immersive. You know the ones – The Day After Tomorrow, Twister, Volcano (geology, weather – whatever), Deep Impact (see Volcano), The Core, Flood, and that Aussie classic Shit Day for a Barbie.

I think Copenhagen, however, has been a giant success. Finally, we are ready. Our leaders have shown us the kind of action we want to see. Forget the half trillion dollars that the bulk of the worlds’ nations are calling for. For less than half a billion, we can get the real action on the big screen to share with the world. And if we keep Baz Luhrmann the hell away from it, it won’t even have to be a musical.

Even with a wide choice of proud and successful Aussie talent like Naomi Watts, Anthony LaPaglia, Guy Pearce, Nicole Kidman, Mel Gibson, and CGI Heath Ledger, it would create a wide range of job opportunities for any American not already carrying a banker.

The crucial scene will be awesome.

Interior. Pentagon Situation Room …

The US President stands, flanked by Generals, advisors, senators, congressmen, corporate lobbyists, donors, and a Hummer that transforms into a gigantic dildo with really tiny balls.

We have already established early in the film that he’s devastatingly popular. Initially he had problems because he proclaimed that he supported women’s right to abortion but opposed gay marriage, but then he shifted to a position of supporting gay marriage because it reduced the annual number of abortions – thereby winning over his dogmatic opponents…

They’re surrounded by all kinds of satellite technology, computer banks all manned by uniformed underlings, with widescreen plasma TVs all over the wall, showing footage from all across the world – massive waves pound sea walls, a village gets torn up by a tornado, fires rip through forests, cattle die in drought, lightning storms blackout a city, rainforests are buried under shifting desert sands, plague destroys south-east Asia, huge ice flows disintegrate into the sea, coconut fields flourish across Lithuania, Rush Limbaugh gets oral pleasure from an underage intern, a humpback whale blows its brains out with a shotgun, Tiger Woods gets to the end of the last cocktail waitress in the whole world. It’s awful.

There’s a commotion at the door as an earnest-looking guy in a lab coat tries to burst through security but gets wrestled to the ground. He’s waving a bundle of paper franticly and screaming that if the President doesn’t hear him out then everything is going to be destroyed. The President intervenes, much to the displeasure of his not-quite-peers. He ensures that security have checked the scientist for WMDS and emails. They have – he’s clean. The President waves him over and after establishing his credentials as a super-genius who totally knows almost everything, he asks what has to be done.

The scientist explains that because people have treated a finite planet like an endlessly renewable resource, the entire planetary system is pushing back in any way that it can, that its destruction is not going to be narrowly targeted but massive on an unprecedented and increasingly unpredictable scale, that there will be massive casualties that make both World Wars look like pie-eating contests, that countless species will be erased before we even collect specimens, that the planet may recover within a million years but we probably won’t, and that it has already begun and will go completely beyond our control if we don’t act right away.

The President looks concerned. He picks up the big red phone and a montage starts – soundtrack maybe a drum n bassed version of Halo by Beyonce. He’s on the phone talking urgently, making lots of different calls to world leaders and heads of industry, pounding his fist, looking proactive, people work on screens running calculations, looking exasperated and panicked, more footage of disasters, then the President’s talking forcefully with all his people, they’re calling senators, congressmen, it all goes into Brady Bunch multiple splitscreens of everybody calling and arguing with everybody else, more fist pounding, newspaper headlines spin out of the screen with terrible news then finally promise of a breakthrough, finally the President’s people all grudgingly nod toward him, indicating that they support whatever it is that he’s about to do. The music fades as he turns to the professor and says.

“Yes, you’re right – we have to do something. We just can’t do anything right now, because, you know, whatever. I have to leave for my plane now because there’s, um, weather.”

The scientist looks stunned as the President coughs loudly and brushes past him. As soon as the door closes behind the President, the Senators and Congressmen/women, past Vice-Presidents, and giant metal dildo with tiny balls all crowd around him and beat him to the ground, only finishing when he’s utterly smashed and blood is trickling from his shattered body toward a nearby drain.

Then nothing happens for the next two hours but a lot of talking and handshakes while the cinema fills with a noxious gas that’s somewhere between farts, teargas and car fumes. A child screams loudly that’s cut off suddenly by a warning about the popcorn. Roll credits, fade to black, and finally Blue Screen Of Death.

What do you reckon?