Short films are a relief, but now and then you come across a Greenland 2: Migration, which feels like a more reflective and pensive work was sliced down to the bare minimum. The follow-up to 2020’s —an unexpected apocalyptic film that flew under the radar during the pandemic’s peak—Ric Roman Waugh’s unforeseen sequel picks up after the end of the world as we know it, delivering many of the same thrills and dilemmas, along with a few edge-of-your-seat sequences. Yet, as a story of an intercontinental journey, it ends up too compressed to have emotional resonance.
If you missed the original, the second installment (titled Greenland Migration in the film, a name with an accidental quality) brings you up to speed via quick flashbacks and one amusing retcon. The first Greenland concluded with the remnants of American society heading to a military bunker in—yes, Greenland—and a brief epilogue showed them opening the bunker doors nine months later. Migration, however, starts with that same footage played in reverse; this time, the door closes, as a voiceover from the gruff Scottish-American lead John Garrity (Gerard Butler) explains that radiation storms and additional asteroid fragments falling from the sky forced humanity back underground.
For Waugh (and returning screenwriter Chris Sparling, who co-wrote Migration with Mitchell LaFortune), the very existence of a Greenland sequel feels like another chance to thrust their characters into harrowing situations as they seek glimmers of hope. How often do disaster films get to show what happens next? Five years after the mass extinction event, John, his wife Alison (Morena Baccarin), and their now-teenage son Nathan (Roman Griffin Davis) are fully integrated into their sprawling underground society, fulfilling roles as engineer, administrator, and mischievous student, respectively. They rarely, if ever, go outside, but a group of nearby refugees sparks a debate over whether the bunker can spare space and resources. This ethical dilemma—though politically relevant—is abruptly cut short by a massive earthquake that forces the Garritys (and a small group of other survivors) onto a lifeboat bound for Europe, a perilous week-long journey all but condensed into a minute-long montage.
There are moments when the film pauses to reflect on what its characters have endured, from John’s near-admissions of trauma to supporting characters who meet brutal ends, only for the story to quickly move on. Once they reach European shores, their plan is to head to a mythical promised land where the world’s violent uprisings and disasters might magically cease (turning Migration into a film with religious overtones). But someone along the way seems to have decided that this destination matters more than the journey, or that the concept can hold weight without first establishing the emotional struggles and survival instincts that might bring catharsis when people finally reach paradise’s gates.
The film’s secondary characters—including a poignant supporting role by French actor William Abadie—exist solely to serve limited plot functions, whether shuttling the family from point A to B or providing expository information. The way actors are dropped from the ensemble only to be replaced by new ones soon after becomes mechanical, as if once-larger, more significant roles were hacked apart in editing. It doesn’t help that the Garritys themselves are the same two-dimensional characters they were in the first film. Yet, what makes the sequel work (much like its predecessor) is how this family unit serves as a blank slate and a stand-in for a potential better future amid the doom of societal collapse.
Once again, Waugh’s moody shots of groups in motion and large-scale natural destruction deliver a powerfully visceral experience, though only in bursts. When storms and meteor fragments strike, they do so with thunderous force. A sequence of characters crossing a gorge on rickety rope-and-ladder bridges is practically dizzying. Another, involving bullets tearing through a nighttime battlefield, highlights the director’s knack for crafting intense moments, as editor Eric Freidenberg swiftly cuts between terrifying wide shots and intimate drama. These strong scenes, however, are disconnected from the larger narrative, as the film is propelled forward by the invisible hand of “plot efficiency” and studio executives dictating an arbitrary maximum runtime.
Is it a stretch to assume the film’s biggest issues stem from executive interference? Perhaps, but the result is all too familiar: a competent (and occasionally gripping) piece of Hollywood entertainment trimmed to its core. That Greenland 2: Migration works at all is a testament to Waugh’s skill as a creator of large-scale action and post-apocalyptic atmosphere. In a fairer world, he’d be regarded in the same league as Roland Emmerich (The Day After Tomorrow, 2012), so one can only hope a future disaster film gives him free rein.