While the movie makes the devastation of a small Pacific town look mesmerizing and exciting (no small feat), it can’t shake the annoying familiarity of the story.

The title city is a pleasant little burg that we’re told won a "livable city" award from Money magazine. The only hitch to living there is the dormant volcano that looms overhead. When the volcano starts acting oddly, vulcanologist Harry Dalton (Pierce Brosnan) comes to investigate. Some rough data and his own feeling of dread convince him to put the town on alert. Despite some initial support from the town’s mayor (Linda Hamilton), who by chance is a single mom, suspicious locals and his government bosses chastise him for causing panic.

Let’s just say it’d be a boring movie if the volcano didn’t erupt. Sreenwriter Leslie Bohem (Daylight) and director Roger Donaldson (Species) don’t break any new ground on plot or character development, but they at least think of fascinating things for the volcano to do. The movie’s second half gives Brosnan and Hamilton a terrifying obstacle course as they run to safety. Ash blankets the town, lava turns everything it touches to flames and even lake water poses a threat.

While there’s a lot here that merits being seen on the big screen, (the fate of a mountain cabin would look awfully shabby on home video) viewers can’t escape their deja vu. Before the film is a third of the way through, who will live and who will die has already been established. Its almost as if the folks who made Dante’s Peak followed genre-based rules similar to those outlined in Scream. There’s nothing wrong with sticking to a formula (some of Irwin Allen’s better disaster movies did), but it’s a little bothersome when you can guess which seemingly minor clues will matter later in the story. It’s almost as if the words "plot point" were flashing across the screen.