The Rapture (1991)

I happened to notice the white van parked outside, with “Exodus Transport” lettered on the back doors in a nondescript hand. The driver was leaning against it smoking a cigarette. “Exodus?” I asked tentatively. “Yeah, we’re here for the Apocalypse,” he replied. “Uh, I don’t remember really well, but aren’t those different parts of the Bible?” He took a long drag and eyed me thickly, then looked away and said, “I just work here.”



I wrote a review of a recently rediscovered Preston Sturges film in which Joan Fontaine and Ray Milland were being held in a dungeon by a group of small-town right-wing Christians. It turned out that they had been mistaken for their identical twins, who arrived at the last moment to spring them from the dungeon, and everyone rode off together happily bouncing on a flying bed. The review got picked up by the Ann Arbor Gazette; they were kind enough to send me a clip, but instead of using an envelope they folded the newsprint itself into a tight little package and covered it with tape so all I could see was the dateline “ANN FRANCISCO–.” I wonder what I said about the movie.