THE MIST (2007) - **1/2Writer/Director Frank Darabont is a fan and friend of Stephen King, of which Darabont has adapted quality movies before from the masterpiece THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION to the pretty good Oscar-nominated THE GREEN MILE. He once upon goes to the King well, this time with one of his trademark chillers.
I dig the general approach that Darabont was aiming for, THE THING for this decade. The soundtrack is nill, the atmosphere of terror stems from the acting chemistry and not gore-inducing monsters, and the ending is ballsy. I
should like this movie.
Certainly I like the movie's build-up, gently seting the chess pieces and let the plot fall into place. I'll respect Darabont that, in this age of impatience and hacks unable to hold their action-wad that is Hollywood Horror, is willing to take his time to do things right.
What happens afterwards though, I think a more appropriate title would have been THE MISFIRE.
My "uh oh" button was pushed early on with Thomas Jane's initial meeting with his neighbor Andre Braugher, the sort of fluff nonsense that hacks use to "stir up animosity"
and sadly my worst fears were confirmed once hell breaks loose.
Braugher doesn't believe people's blood-curdling death screams or that one big-ass freakish mist has overtaken the town. It's all a hoax against him.
Why?Thomas Jane hears a mother freakin scary noise outside the docking bay, and nobody believes him.
Why?Alot of the town's residents hate Jane. He is a tourist, but
Why?The achilles heel (or is it tentacle?) of THE MIST unfortunately is that for a people-driven story, Darabont's characters quite frankly
suck. They are so contrived to simply move the story along, it's like the recent atrocity 30 DAYS OF NIGHT or any other lame slasher flick. Jesus Christ.
I've never read King's original novella, but if the movie is as faithful to the source material as people tell me, then I should known better.
At his best, Stephen King can be a great writer in terms of plots, concepts, and themes to explore that have been the launchpoint of many good films based on his works. At his worst, King can be a repetitive, very manipulative to preach his message, and create simplisticly stupid characters that are more plot devices with feet then human beings...the basis for many bad pictures.
THE MIST picture frames itself supposedly as a tale about civilization breaking down in the face of fear, and anarchy reigning supreme by paranoia and superstition. A great goal if you ask me, but the movie though plays more like a high schooler's mediocre attempt at his/her own LORD OF THE FLIES story.
I think the symbolism for everything with THE MIST that should have worked, but instead evaporates, is with the Marcia Gay Harden character.
A Christian fundamentalist who immediately fears that the apocalypse is here and
now, she is then assured (within her mind) by the mutant-wasp not attacking her, that indeed her calling is to save the souls of everyone at the supermarkett...and damn those that refuse.
So how does Darabont introduce her? As a bitch. We already know that she's the villain because she spites everyone, and people returns the favor. If her character was at least shown neutral before that fateful meeting with the bug, I would have bought her transformation into a friggin psychopath this side of a Ric Flair bump. Instead, Darabont sells her and the movie stiff.
What the hell ever dude.
At least with John Carpenter's classic THE THING, the entrapped people are justified in their mistrust of each other by clues, misunderstandings, and unnatural behavior. Not the best of men, nor really buddies, but at least we believed why they would turn on each other. With THE MIST, its....well, the Anti-THING.
After the climax, I was totally indifferent to THE MIST....and then the ending happens. Like the movie, the idea for it aint bad at all, and quite interesting in a cruel-if-fitting sort of way.
Instead of being devastated, I'm wondering instead how could a movie shot by a good director, working with a good premise, and stocked by good actors....be all about nothing.
They all went into the mysterious mist, and were never heard from again.