Earthquake extravaganza ‘San Andreas’ has plenty of faults

“San Andreas” is every bit as big, loud and ridiculous as anything you’ll see during this or any other summer. But what sets this bonkers earthquake extravaganza apart from similar bits of brain-dead escapism is the fact that its “hero” is extraordinarily selfish at best. At worst, he’s criminally negligent.

Despite his biceps and bravado, L.A. Fire Department rescue pilot Ray Gaines (Dwayne Johnson) is pretty terrible at actually rescuing people.

When a devastating earthquake levels much of Los Angeles, Ray ignores what must be hundreds of thousands of casualties and uses his city-owned chopper to save his estranged wife, Emma (Carla Gugino). Then, once she’s safely strapped in, he neglects his duties yet again and sets out to fly that emergency vehicle nearly 400 miles north to San Francisco to scoop up his teenage daughter, Blake (Alexandra Daddario).

Along the way, Ray carries one stranger to safety and orders a few others to hide in a more secure area. But for the most part, his blatant disregard for victims outside his family is borderline hilarious. En route to his daughter, Ray zooms past civilians who’ve stepped up to aid survivors. Even at the end, with hundreds of displaced residents in need of assistance at an emergency shelter, Ray just stands there like a lump — without so much as a, “Hey, buddy, here’s a blanket” — while he hugs his loved ones and gawks at the damage.

First responder? More like worst responder.

Ray wasn’t always comically indifferent to saving lives. A TV reporter (“The Good Wife’s” Archie Panjabi) accompanying him on a run in the opening moments of “San Andreas” tells viewers he has more than 600 documented rescues, to which Ray responds, “Just doin’ my job, ma’am.”

Then he risks his life to save a teenage girl — who’d been listening to Taylor Swift while fumbling around for her smoothie and distractedly reading a text before bouncing down a mountain — by ripping the door off her car. With his bare hands!

But with Blake in danger, Ray won’t let anything — not even the greatest catastrophe in the history of the modern world — stand between them. After crashing that helicopter into a shopping mall, Ray swipes a jacket from a store and steals a truck from a fellow looter, borrows a small airplane and makes off with a boat. He and Emma are a cheap motel and that “those aren’t pillows” gag away from being John Candy and Steve Martin.

In between vehicles, the duo take a break from not helping strangers to talk about Ray’s feelings over being unable to save their other daughter from drowning years ago. (You get one guess as to what sort of predicament Blake eventually finds herself in.)

“San Andreas” dutifully destroys most of the requisite disaster movie staples. Hollywood sign? Check. Golden Gate Bridge? Yep. Hoover Dam? You betcha!

And there are some decent special effects, especially the way much of the West Coast rolls in waves like an offensive lineman’s waterbed.

Paul Giamatti turns up as a seismologist to provide a brief history of devastating earthquakes and say things like “science science Richter scale sciencey science” — or something to that effect.

And Blake teams up with a British lad named Ben (Hugo Johnstone-Burt) and his younger brother (Art Parkinson), who’s mostly just there to worry, with lines such as, “Ben, I don’t want Blake to die.” And, later, “Blake’s going to die, isn’t she?”

You may not expect more from director Brad Peyton, who previously teamed with Johnson on “Journey 2: The Mysterious Island.” But screenwriter Carlton Cuse (TV’s “Lost” and “Bates Motel”) is certainly capable of better.

At one point, Ray and Emma are in that boat trying to survive a tsunami.

Emma: “Ray!”

Ray: “I see it!”

Here’s hoping, since “it” is a 15-story wall of water.

Despite — or, maybe because of — all this, “San Andreas” is goofily entertaining. But it suffers from a certain generic quality that makes the whole thing feel like one of those off-brand toy sets you find at the dollar store while looking for a birthday present for that nephew you don’t particularly like.

In the end, though, it’s like the aftermath of any large earthquake: You’ll be glad it wasn’t any worse while noticing its many faults.

Contact Christopher Lawrence at clawrence@reviewjournal.com. Follow him on Twitter: @life_onthecouch.