Play Misty for Me

Rating: 7/10 (1 May 2008)

The trailer did nothing to entice me, the concept seemed like a rehash of Carpenter's The Fog and the cast was a big fat "who gives a shi#." The Mist wasn't a film I had high hopes for, especially since hatchet man Stephen King wrote it (the same King who hated Kubrick's Shining) and one hit wonder Frank Shawshank Darabont was manning the helm. It did however star Thomas Jane who had my eye after great roles in Boogie Nights and The Thin Red Line; but this was also the same TJ who lost my attention after a spectacular string of worthless films. On top of all that, it had Marcia Gay Harden in it and the prospect of staring at her mope face wasn't working to The Mist's advantage.
Five minutes into it, I knew I wasn't watching The Fog. As two hours whisked by, The Mist cheated me out of the perfect ending but it had earned my respect. Despite laughably bad CGI, a few dead spots killed by on-the-nose dialogue and characters a little too quick to propel the plot in a dire direction, The Mist delivered where most cookie cutter horror films don't. It wasn't completely predictable, it wasn't utterly mindless and it understood the two basic tenets of all good horror: mood and atmosphere. I haven't read the SK novella so I can't comment on whether the screenplay took its own liberties or not, but a lot of what was happening and being said provided the audience with a sub textual narrative critiquing religious fanaticism and fear mongering. The present day neo-con landscape is one where both fear and religion play pivotal roles in our daily lives and Darabont pulls no punches showing how these two societal cancers can and will lead us down a path of self destruction.
The writing isn't brilliant social commentary and at times it suffers from being a bit too obvious. Nevertheless Darabont manages to get across a timely and relevant message without betraying the story and because he's able to pull off this delicate act, he elevates The Mist above the crowd of mindless horror clones dropping into theaters every few weeks. He also has to be commended for the brilliant casting of Gay Harden as a typical fundamentalist nut bag that you would personally love to shut up with a hollow point kiss. Fortunately for us, someone does in the most splendid of ways.
Lastly, The Mist almost ends perfectly, yet instead opts for a denouement that is tragic, ironic and, ultimately, predictable. Something tells me this ending was penned by SK who probably patted himself on the back for having the ability to write something ironic.
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