Long. Dull. Disappointing.

Rating: 6/10 (14 October 2007)

Started so well ..
Then devolved (a most appropriate adjective) in to a typically Americanoid conglomerate of staged and often dated special effect snippets that leaves you yawning and wondering when all the fluff is going to end so the plot can resume.
The whole set looks exactly like a set. Reminded me of the Murder She Wrote episode from circa 1987 where power pad clad Jessica's law enforcement friend (the criminally obese one) chokes to death on a twinkie in suspicious circumstances. Deep stuff.
Not my all time favourite film then. But why? Well, you have a specific formula for horror movies, specifically specific if they are 'inspired by Stephen King short stories' ergo; they are gripping for the fifteen minutes or so the narrative follows the original prose, then utterly mind numbing for the proceeding two hours where a cocaine sodden Hollyrood script editor plumbed the depths of a socially retarded, sexual repressive sociopath's autobiography for material.
There is no plot. There is no spoon. No wait, am I dreaming? You get me.
The film drifts between genuinely scary and absurd.
There is no moral tale, it reminded me certainly of a Christmas Carol (I kid you not, its that bad) for the last forty-five minutes or more, but other than that it held nothing deeper, meaningful or insightful of impressionable merit. Not even a snifter of redemption: Our character is so fundamentally dull and unlikeable, I couldn't actually see much point to any supposed supernatural divinity taking much interest in him. I know I didn't. So his daughter died? Boo hoo. Its not enough to make me care. Even his estranged wife appears to have got over it. Absurdly.
Dross. Dull. Long. Slow. Staged. Corny. All suitable expletives.
Please, no really, stop plagiarizing second rate novellas and invest in someone with a smidgeon of talent to pen the scripts. American film, this one most specifically, needs to steer hard a starboard. Get away from 'man in action' segments that drag on and on and focus on what the French do so well: actual humanism. Dialogue. Meaning. Inference. Mise-en-scène.
Or, well, just don't and keep turning out more crap like this ..
John. I tried. I did. Truly I did. Mea culpa ..