At last- a refreshing throwback to the good old American horrors of yesteryear. The Happening, bug off

Rating: 8/10 (27 September 2008)

Fish and Chips, Ant and Dec, Zig and Zagnot quite the intro' you were expecting, right? Well I certainly hope not. But some things, I'd think you'd agree, are just meant to go together. Add to that list Frank Darabont and Stephen King: the touching, pleasantly out of character page turners of the latter so remarkably reworked in the timeless, superseding film classics of the former. For his third King rework, though, writer/director Darabont's ditched the potent period prison play (see Shawshank Redemption, see Green Mile), opting to grapple with the author's forte: horror. But The Mist is far more permanent, profound and disconcerting than its banal B-movie look and title would suggest. Not only is it somewhat of a religious experience (keep an eye out for the iconography), but it's also a revelation.
In retrospect, the film's form and plot line are as simple as they come: a cryptic mist, veiling a brood of oddball beasties, herds a colony of model Americans into a small-town grocery store. "There's something in the mist!" barks a bloody-nosed dweller as he stumbles through the store doors. "Shut the doors," he cries. "Shut the doors, my god!" And so, it begins. The archetypal movie Americans vs. a pick and mix of quirky creatures hell bent on taking office.
A cast of relative unknowns star, then, alongside a host of newcomers, non-professionals and unfamiliar faces in this terrifying adap' of King's original tale. The blend of chaos and camaraderie between the characters proving crucial to the tone and impact of the film as Darabont's hand-held, moving cameras bob and weave through the well orientated cast, rack focussing from one plane of depth to another as they bicker over who (or what's) to blame. Terrorists? Scientists? Nature? God? Who or whatever the culprit, survival would appear salient for our classic film players: the valiant leader (Tom Jane at the top of his game), the mental preacher (Marcia Gay Harden at the top of hers), the realist, the klutz, the blonde, the needy kid, the plucky gran', the non-believer, the unsung hero. They're all in there, and more.
All told, The Mist is stylistically nostalgic. A sci-fi/horror hybrid with odd sprinkles of humour that recall the cult classics of Jack Arnold, George A. Romero and John Carpenter. Only better. Yes, better. Darabont's delve into untried territory is a massive achievement in horror movie making. The Shining? Not quite. Darabont may be a maestro of the screen adap' but he's no Stan' Kubrick. There's no disguising The Mist's potential as classic of the horror genre, though. This is a writer/director who's knack for tying an empathic rapport between character and audience pays up front both where and when it matters. Shawshank was a dream. The Mist is a nightmare. But in all the right ways: a murky, tantalizing terror-jolt with added substance. High-concept with a weighty sub-text and a damn low-budget. Darabont's more concerned with probing the humanity of horror than the gore and the guts and the winged, slithery, tentacled fiends hurling themselves at the glass panes. As far as CGI goes, you have and will see better (in fact it's laughable on occasion) but when a film's set-up is this well conceived, it's all right for the special effects to take a back seat. Example? The Birds. Example? Jaws. Another? Alien. Add to this list The Mist. A film rapt on how bloody timid and fragile we humans are in the face of fear. "As a species we're fundamentally insane," utters the unsung hero. "Put more than two of us in a room, we pick sides and start dreaming up ways to kill one another," I wouldn't go that far, mate. "Why do you think we invented politics and religion?"Good point.
In spite, then, of its old chestnut line up and rather rushed and "hazy" start, from the moment the smog rolls in - swallowing the entire township in one swift gulp - The Mist just gets better and better as it creeps and crawls towards an unruly final third that'll haunt, shock and astound, disturb and confound. And like all great movies, there're plenty of leftovers to chew over. This is a film with something to say whose final stance over matters will lure countless back for seconds, no question.
Frank Darabont has sculpted ominous camera-work, a forbidding score, top performances, lurid tension and shock after shock into a modest macabre with a killer ending to rival that of anything I've ever seen on film. Horror film fans will be pushed to find a more riveting two-hours of pure entertainment than this: a cynical and paralyzing portrait of the humane and the inhumane that certainly isn't satisfying, but it grips like a vice all the same. In a word: mist-ifying.