dir: Frank Darabont
2007
I watched this flick last night, and this morning, I made my way to
work through a thick, chilling mist. I have to admit, for a second, I
wondered what horrors the morning mist held apart from the usual
junkies, people with shit music on their iPods turned up way too loud
and guys who never get their suits dry cleaned and thus smell like
Borat.
The Mist is one of those rarest of rare movies: something based on the
works of Stephen King that doesn=92t suck completely and utterly. Yeah,
sure, people point out The Shining, Misery, Shawshank, Green Mile,
Christine and that=92s about it, as a way of saying that one of the
world=92s most prolific horror writers has had flicks translate well
from their book origins.
Bullshit, I say, to them. For every Shawshank, there=92s almost ten
flops that make you want to tear your eyeballs out based on some scrap
of cocktail napkin that the legendary crank hack scrawled something
onto.
To be fair, I started looking through all the gems he=92s had a hand or
toe in, and there were plenty of other flicks that don=92t suck
completely that he=92s been involved in.
Then again, there=92s still Dreamcatcher.
Look, let=92s just agree that not all of King=92s stuff has translated
well to the big or small screen, but then again, who=92s stuff always
does? Even =91serious=92 authors like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Louis de
Bernieres have works that have sucked upon transformation into a film
=93property=94, sucked in ways that make you want to just die, already.
Not that I can prove this scientifically, but the movies adapted from
King=92s short stories tend to have a better track record, and The Mist
is just such a beast.
A nasty storm hits a small, hokey little town in Maine. There=92s some
damage, trees fall down, hair gets mussed. Whilst the residents are
still picking up the pieces, a thick mist rolls in.
David Drayton (Thomas Jane) and his son Billy (Nathan Gamble) travel
to the supermarket to get some post-storm supplies, and find
themselves, along with a bunch of other people, trapped in the store.
They=92re trapped because there are=85 things=85 in the mist.
At first they have no idea what=92s going on. In fact, no-one really
knows for most of the flick=92s duration as to what=92s going on, which
enhances the terror-filled scenario nicely. Being Americans, and this
having been made recently, of course this kind of disaster scenario
has to point to the two biggest issues everyone wishes Hollywood would
just shut the fuck up about: 9/11 and the War on Terror. It=92s squeezed
through a unique filter which even brings up the post-Hurricane
Katrina and Red State / Blue State culture wars bullshit that makes
Rupert Murdoch a very wealthy man.
It=92s handled remarkably well: it=92s the human dynamics I=92m referring
to. When stuff actually starts coming out of the mist, it=92s not so
good, in fact, it=92s pretty silly.
But the human on human action, now therein lies the rub.
In a disaster-type situation, in the specifically American context,
what can we rightly expect? Well, we get those who come to the fore,
try to lead and try to help the people around them, which would cover
our main character David. Around him cluster some reasonable people
who are also deathly afraid of what=92s outside, but are sheep who can=92t
really think for themselves.
Then there are the doubters who don=92t believe the situation is really
that bad, and that the threat of monsters is just hype, lies and
hysteria. They=92re either right or
Around them cluster an ever-growing array of people convinced this is
the End of Days: as in that God=92s judgement is coming down from above
and killing all the sinners. And that, in order to save themselves,
sacrifices must be made to appease an Angry God.
Mrs Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden) comes to believe that she is a conduit
to God=92s will, and that a situation like this, where a hundred or so
people are under siege in a supermarket as monstrous creatures close
in on them, is the perfect opportunity for her to get some payback on
the kinds of people she feels have slighted her throughout her
miserable life.
Yes, this is a monster film with creatures of unknown provenance
threaten to chomp Our Heroes and their hangers-on. And some of the
monsters, especially later on in the flick, are pretty scary. But
nothing is as scary as the venomous Carmody.
She whips her ever-growing number of supporters into an Old Testament
fury as they become bent on expiation, or blood sacrifice, as a way of
saving themselves. The power she has over them they themselves give up
to her, since they=92re terrified, confused and clearly stupid. And they
too know the pleasure of making themselves feel better by beating on
those weaker and less popular than themselves.
The irony for me, considering that this is a horror flick, is that the
appearance of the monsters actually killed the terror-filled mood for
me. Once they start to appear, and there=92s no rhyme or reason to their
appearance or their existence, since, in most cases, they=92re just
generic evil monsters: Evil CGI flying bugs, evil CGI super-spiders
and evil CGI buzzards. And maybe some tentacley thing, I=92m not sure,
since we never find out what killed the poor shelf-stacking bagboy.
They are not even remotely as scary as Carmody and the certainty on
the faces of her faithful devotees, people led so easily to violence
and murder that you despair of humanity in its entirety. Later on
there are monsters more than scary enough, because they=92re half seen
but massive and genuinely monstrous. There is even one creature
depicted that is so massive, and so alien that it is simultaneously
awe-inspiring and enough to drive you to despair. But our real horror
is reserved for the group of people who actually think the Old
Testament is a survival guide for inexplicable circumstances.
Especially the bit about Abraham sacrificing his son.
As the lead, Thomas Jane is wooden and noble, acting like he=92s Jimmy
Stewart and Gregory Peck all rolled into one, in a character so noble
and so upright that the rod up his arse must have a rod up its arse.
He=92s appropriate to the role. I guess. But the real payoff to his
character, which tries to balance his desire to save his son from the
horrors in the mist, and his desire to help other people, comes from
the ending which is of such unremitting cruel irony that I=92m not even
going to allude to it for fear of spoiling it. Actually, I did just
allude to it. Let=92s leave it at that.
Everyone else doesn=92t really matter, but they perversely do great
work, especially Toby Jones as an aged bagboy who comes into his own
with a gun in his hand. The film does a great job of capturing and
projecting the feeling that it aims for onto the protagonists and the
audience. The mood stuff, the growing realisation that, to quote the
Nick Cave song, People They Ain=92t No Good, the mist itself as a
palpable enemy, and that incredible ending all cohere to make this one
of the better horror flicks I=92ve had the privilege to see in a
donkey=92s age.
It=92s a thinly veiled comment on the times, and as such has a lot to
say about what people are capable of doing when they=92re afraid, when
they=92re angry, and when they=92re stupid. But it most scathingly
represents what happens when people give in to hopelessness and cannot
imagine a way out of their seemingly impossible circumstances. It=92s
enough to make you weep black tears of interdimensional despair.
Sandro - 8 times the ending to this flick is just=85 nasty out of 10
--
=93You don't have much faith in humanity, do you?=94
- =93None, whatsoever.=94
=93I can't accept that. People are basically good; decent. My god,
David, we're a civilized society.=94
- =93Sure, as long as the machines are working and you can dial 911.
But you take those things away, you throw people in the dark, you
scare the shit out of them - no more rules.=94 =96 The Mist
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