REVIEW THE MIST


Alright, who else thinks it might be time they stopped trying to turn Stephen King stories into movies, especially those with strong supernatural elements?

They usually end up, not just as movies, but total abominations.

We've seen some decent adaptations, but they are normally your more dramatic offerings such as The Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me and Misery.

When it comes to dealing with forces beyond this world, King's vision seems to get lost in translation.



The Green Mile, The Shining, It and my old favourite Maximum Overdrive (when the tongue was firmly in cheek) are the exceptions.

Instead think The Dark Half, Sometimes They Come Back, Needful Things, The Lawnmower Man, The Langoliers, The Tommyknockers, Thinner, Desperation, Hearts in Atlantis and more recently 1408 and Dreamcatcher.

Some of those mentioned have been made-for-TV productions, but that doesn't give them an excuse to be crap.

Dreamcatcher (2003) was a big budget blockbuster that looked impressive enough but got frozen in the snow about halfway through.

The latest failure is The Mist, and when you consider it was written for the screen and directed by Frank Darabont, the man responsible for giving us two of the best King adaptations in Shawshank and Green Mile and garnering three Oscar nominations at the same time, it is a monumental failure.


I’ve read quite a few favourable reviews of the film that have left me scratching my head as much as the film itself did.

Though I never read the book, I had high hopes for this movie, with Darabont on board as well as a reasonable budget and what I thought was a reasonable cast.

It stars Thomas Jane (who has now had two goes at King's work after Dreamcatcher), Andre Braugher, Toby Jones (the other Capote) Marcia Gay Harden, Laurie Holden, William Sadler (Death from Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey) and Chris Owen (the Sherminator from American Pie).

The story centres on a big group of shoppers trapped in a supermarket, but the soaring price of a carton of milk is not the scariest thing on offer, but the thick mist that has rolled in to the small town and brought with it a collection of killer creepy crawleys.

And no amount of household fly spray the store has in stock will be enough.

While the film could be classified as a B-Grade horror (and I personally don't think it was Darabont's intention), it is done but with Z-grade delivery.

I don't know who's to blame exactly - the cast or the director - but the acting is simply awful. Be it a reaction to some of the shocking events that take place or an interaction between the varying characters couped up together.

You know there is a problem when the eight-year-old Nathan Gamble, playing the part of the petrified little boy, is the best of a really bad bunch.

The character development is abysmal, the dialogue terrible, and everything just seems so forced, contrived and cliched (yes, even for a B-grade horror flick, or was theat supposed to be A-grade).



(Spoilers ahead) The basic story, the one dreamed up by King and put down in short story form, about scientific experiments at a nearby army base unlocking another dimension and letting in these strange and terrifying creatures, is certainly an intriguing one, and some of the action sequences involving them are genuinly tense and entertaining.

The battle of wills going on inside the store as the stranded residents segregate themselves - those who find solace in the speaking of the resident religious nut and those who choose to try and hold onto their sanity - is also interesting in thought, but poor in execution.

All credablity and plausablity were left in the supermarket parking lot.

We've got Jane's main character of Drayton seemingly not giving two shits about his wife stuck at home alone, until he sees her strung up in a massive spiderweb, conveniently placed just outside their house, near the end of the film. I presumed she was dead - he didn't even bother to check, let alone give her a proper burial.

He's got his young son to consider, and God knows what outside, but wouldn't you be trying to get home and save her the minute you realised the mist was non-toxic, axe or gun in hand? If not, show some emotion! Sorry, forgot which grade of horror this was - C right?

Then there's Braugher's character of Norton, Drayton's 'difficult' lawyer neighbour, who after all his theatrics in the store ranting about how the creatures aren't real, you expect to still play a key role in proceedings.

Even after he just wanders out into the darkness halfway through the film, I was waiting for him to triumphantly return with reinforcements, but nothing - he's never seen again

I've always liked the work of the under-rated Braugher, but the guy doesn't even get a thrilling exit, a big death scene. Even the bit-part Military Police officer does, and, I must admit, it was one of the more engrossing scenes and gross too.


Anyway, I could go on, but back to the conclusion of the movie and this review.

The 'hero', Drayton, and his boy, his new blonde companion and two old fogies have managed to escape the confines of the supermarket - and the Christian fanatics (whose number swelled at an incredible rate) and their desire to start sacrificing the rest - and make a run for it in his 4WD.

But after driving so far as to run out of gas, and still not be beyond the edge of the mist decide to pack it in there and then - after everything they have gone through in avoiding the crazed mob back at the store as well as the inter-dimensional monsters in the parking lot.

Barely an hour on, Drayton shoots each of his passengers, including his boy without so much as a 'Sorry, goodbye, I love you', but then runs out of bullets to use on himself.

The sting in the tail is the fact just moments later, while he waiting to be attacked and eaten, the army come through to save the day, clearing the mist, and leaving Drayton stranded again - this time in life, without his boy, without his wife and without new blonde 'friend'.

It wasn't a bad twist, predicatable, but not bad, though the entire lead-up was the real shocker.

Oh, well, two out of three ain't bad, hey Frank Darabont?