A Ton Of Last Minute MIST Reviews For You!

Hey, everyone. ”Moriarty” here. Wow. I can’t believe the release date for this film is already here. They just got the greenlight a few weeks ago, feels like. Of course, this was one of those films that was rumored for so long that I think part of me just expected it would never happen. And now, here it is. And people seem to be pretty hotly divided over the merits of Darabont’s new feature. Where will you guys fall? I’m eager to see how it plays out in talkbacks and on message boards in the next few weeks. Here’s our first review for today:

Greetings programs! Geek in the City here, from the great city of Portland , OR . I got to take some time away from my quest to Rename 42nd Avenue into Douglas Adams Boulevard and caught an advanced screening of The Mist. Short review, I was stunned. The long reviews follows. As always, if you use this call me Geek in the City As the credits rolled, the second thought to enter my mind was a simple one. Are the Weinsteins going for the "Most Theatrical Bombs" record? Why that thought? I will get to that later. If that was my second thought, what was my first? That I shall reveal now. The silver screen started to turn black. The lights within the uncomfortably silent theater rose. The credits started to roll. Bodies, two hours still, slowly rose from their seats. Audience members quietly shambled from the screening. My fellow film critics all stood and stared at the screen, then to each other. Finally, in unison we proclaimed in so many words; "Holy f_ _k, Frank Darabont, what hath you wrought upon us?" That lone question perfectly sums The Mist. Yet there is more. So much more... The Mist is Frank Darabont's newest Stephen King adaptation, and like his take on The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile, Darabont proves he understands King better than, well, Stephen King. Darabont took King's short novella and turned an admitted homage to 50s and 60s monster movies into one of the most emotionally damaging films I've seen in years, if not ever. That isn't to say The Mist is a bad film, far from it. The Mist is simply an unending sucker punch to your soul as Darabont continues to peel layer after layer within your mind and forces you to watch your own inner beast come to life. The story itself is frighteningly simple, juvenile even. A freak storm hammers the perennial Stephen King town of Castlerock. The storm knocks out power. The storm batters buildings. The storm cuts the small town off from the world at large. Then, as the good townsfolk of Castlerock begin the rebuilding process, a mysterious Mist rolls into town, a Mist filled with beasts and demons hereto with only imagined in the mind of a pulp author from Rhode Island. The beasts aren't the horror. Like so many classic and effective horror films, it isn't the Mist-shrouded beasts that deliver the numbing dread; it is the horrible creatures that live within each and every one of us we must fear. To be sure, the creatures in The Mist provide the quick visceral horror and blood soaked moments in the film. However, their real power lies in their ability to remind us, constantly, that we are not true masters of our environment. As David Drayton (masterfully portrayed by Tom Jane) states early on, "we're only civilized as long as the machines keep running and someone answers when we call 911." Truer statements have never been uttered, nor perfectly rendered as they are in The Mist. As a society, we see ourselves as rational and civil. Daily, we tell ourselves that we have risen above our primitive ancestors; indeed, we claim our modern society is the near pinnacle of human achievement. (At least when we talk of scientific and technological advances). Then, the power goes out. Then, the cops don't come. Then, the fires burn without end. Then the frozen meals thaw and rot. Then, the beast comes for us. Technology fails to defend. Science fails to defend. We try to maintain airs. We try to remind ourselves we are rational beings. We try to suppress the primal instincts within. We fail at all. Watching this small group of survivors locked up within a Supermarket (of which a great microcosm of the American society, there is none) break into groups, tribes if you will, is both fascinating and terrifying. The Mist is as much an anthropologic film as it is a horror film. Seeing some splinter into the coldly rational, others with the wholly religious, and others still simply wishing to survive and protect their own. Whom is right? Whom would you follow? How far are you willing to go to promote your stance? These are the questions the beasts lurking in the Mist force each and every one of us to ask ourselves. Will you scoff at the notion of the supernatural and face The Mist? Will you fall to your knees and plead to a vengeful god to deliver you from sin and evil? Will you abandon the very humanity you once praised just to survive one more day? Are we worthy of calling ourselves human if we had to sacrifice so much humanity in order to survive? The Mist asks so many questions of us, the audience, questions we should never have to answer. Questions the poor souls locked in that ever-dwindling supermarket must answer, consequences be damned. Is this film good? That all depends on your definition of good. Is The Mist a good film from a technical stance? Yes, it is. The film isn't perfect, but the story and plot flow and the narrative is powerful. The characterization are top notch considering Frank Darabont needed to balance a rather large cast and very little set up time. Darabont literally starts the "action" within the first 5 minutes. In that 5 minutes you see where the lines will be drawn as the horror descends every deeper. The dialogue is crisp and never once feels forced. Every actor involved turns in a wonderful performance. Each one assuming an archetypal, even a primitive, role as they accept their place in this new world in The Mist. This isn't schlock horror or torture-porn. This is a return to slow build terror long lost in the American multiplex. That all being said, I don't know how often I will re-watch this film. To be sure, it will make my "must buy" list, but in the same breath it will also find its place on my "only watch once a year" shelf, along with Schindler's List, Requiem for a Dream, etc. Yes, the film affected me that deeply. I'm not entirely sure Frank Darabont likes his audience. How can someone who loves the audience put them through so much terror, angst, pain, and dread? Then again, Darabont did set out to make a horror film. He succeeded, beautifully and horrifically so. A little over 20 years ago, film critic Roger Ebert claimed he couldn't stand to watch James Cameron's Aliens. Not because it wasn’t a good film, but simply because the tension and fear made him physically ill. I never really understood that claim, at least on an emotional level. Frank Darabont's telling of The Mist now makes me understand. This is a terrible, wonderful, awful, beautiful, dreadful, and stunning film. Darabont never once lets up. Never. Many years ago, someone broke my heart, badly. I sat on my floor and cried for hours, pounding my fists onto the floor and screaming that God tell me why he wanted me to hurt so much. I will forever remember the feeling within my body after that event. As I stepped out of Frank Darabont's version of The Mist, that same physical feeling returned. For the first time ever, a film left me with physical discomfort. Yes, the film is that good and that bad. As for my second thought, I teased a few pages back. Not everyone will see this film as I see it, nor will all feel as I feel. Indeed, I doubt there is going to be much middle ground regarding The Mist. Either it will hit you like a dread-filled fist or it will bore you immensely. (I'm certain a small fraction of audiance will simply walk out, be it from fear or insult I don't know). That being said, the Weinsteins have again backed a film that will divide the film-going community. First, The Mist (in my opinion) is getting marketed all wrong. The trailers showing vile beasts attacking screaming victims will only help the opening weekend. Once people see The Mist as a film that examines the human soul, they might get turned off. Sadly, it is often the folks that hate a film that find a need to tell everyone how terrible it is. The Mist is a great film, but a great film that will probably only find an audience in the DVD market, much like Darabont's other masterpieces. Also, whom within the Weinstein company felt that The Mist was the "must see feel good Thanksgiving film"? I'm no marketing savant, but even I know this isn't going to draw people in once their bellies are full of turkey and pumpkin pie. Then again, this is the same company that released Grindhouse over the Easter holiday. All that being said. Please see this film. Steel yourself, but see this film. Open your mind and heart to the experience. Place yourself within the characters on the screen. Ask yourself what you would do, what side would you choose? The Mist is impartial. The Mist simply is. How we, as a society and a race cope with The Mist is the true question. And the true horror.

Wow. This next review comes from longtime friend of the site, Fatboy Roberts, and it sounds like this movie hit him pretty hard, too:

Frank Darabont is an angry man. He doesn't like kids, he doesn't like people, he doesn't like religion, he doesn't like logic, he doesn't like Thanksgiving, and the only thing he likes is Stephen King, and he likes using Stephen King like a blunt instrument, to find whatever sentimentality is inside of you and snuff it out. Mercilessly. This doesn't sound like Frank Darabont. The man responsible for adapting Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption and improving it in all the ways that make one believe human kind is worth saving, worth believing in. A towering testament to hope and the prevailing spirit of humanity. The man responsible for The Green Mile, further ruminations on people's extraordinary abilities to heal in the face of horror and come out on the other side better people. The man responsible for The Majestic, a schmaltzy, sopping slobbery french kiss to the movies, slathered in lipstick made of nostalgia and cornpone. But you need to think of the Frank Darabont that concieved of pulling a kids tendons out of his body, and having a burned alive supernatural child molester use them as marionette strings to puppeteer said kid off the side of a building. That Frank Darabont was so burnt-out and twisted inside that he wrote "Nightmare on Elm Street 3" and had the gall to make Freddy ADORABLE. It's his characterization of the horror icon that is lodged in the public consciousness, even moreso than Craven's own. That Frank Darabont just wants to hurt you. That Frank Darabont would lovingly extract the shining hope he cultivated in your hearts as Andy Dufresne threw his hands to the sky, and he would shit on it. And then punch you in the balls with your shitty hope clenched and dripping in his closed fist. That Frank Darabont has made a film that would make that Freddy Krueger wince at how bleakly powerful it is. "The Mist" was concieved by Stephen King as his take on B-movies of the 50's and 60's. He was inspired after watching the similarly unforgiving and mean-spirited "Night of the Living Dead," A movie that used the undead to reflect back all the worst elements of humankind at the tail end of the 60's. King crafted a siege story filled with Lovecraftian horrors. He set it in a supermarket and stood logic on one side, reason on the other, and filthy, tentacled horror from planet X outside of it in an ever-present gray mist, with an everyman looking out for his young boy as the protagonist, and a power-hungry witch opposite him. Darabont has, as he did with Shawshank, improved King's story. Fat has been trimmed. There are no unnecessary side-trips into love-story land, no spare sentimentality to sweeten the pot. Darabont has taken a serrated edge to King's already small novella, and cleaved every ounce of fat off it. Characters are set up perfectly with the barest of brush strokes, but never left wanting. David Drayton's inherent goodness, Mrs. Carmody's barely restrained rage and egomania, Ollie Weeks' sturdy, steadfast dependability, and Amanda Dumfries hopeful naivete are all highlighted and the actors (Thomas Jane, Marcia Gay Harden, Toby Jones and Amanda Holden, respectively) fill in the shading around King and Darabont's stark black lines to make sure there are three dimensions there to look at. There isn't really a bad performance in the film, not a character that doesn't feel wholly real, and for a movie as economic with its time as this one is, that's truly remarkable. Sam Witwer, Frances Sternhagen, Darabont stalwarts Jeff DeMunn and William Sadler, and of course Andre Braugher, turn in performances that, for being an adaptation of a novella that is essentially an adaptation of an entire genre of film--and SCHLOCK film, at that--sell you COMPLETELY that these are real people. It's that rock solid reality that makes the fantastical tangle of blood, tentacles, teeth and legs going on outside the supermarket, in the mist, all that more disconcerting. Roger Ebert once wrote in his review of Aliens that he didn't necessarily LIKE the movie, but gave it 3 1/2 stars simply because once he left it, he was shaking, and the sick, knotted feeling the movie gave him wouldn't leave for roughly a month and a half. I fear for Roger if he ever gets his eyes on this movie. That's not to say the movie is flawless: The beasties are well designed and off-putting in all the best ways. You wince not because it's just ugly or weird, you wince because your mind rebels against accepting that something that fundamentally wrong could exist. But Darabont, inspired by Danny Boyle's "28 Days Later," went out and got the crew of FX network's "The Shield" and set to make a fast, dirty, mean little movie, and that means there was not much money for the visual effects. When the story mandates a shot of Cthulhu on Four Legs, this means that at some point, unreality of the less desirable kind is going to show up onscreen. The moments they do are brief, and are not wholly BAD, mostly on a level with Peter Jackson's Spider Pit sequence from "King Kong," but every now and again the work on the beasties detracts from the suspense. Luckily, the speed of the film and the atmosphere Darabont drowns the frame in make such visual missteps tiny. It didn't even occur to me until late in the film that there was pretty much no score to speak of. For a man who relied on Thomas Newman's score to lift Shawshank to the levels it hit, I would have never guessed he could use silence just as deftly as he used strings. The reason I noticed the absence of music came when he introduced the music--keening warbling reminiscent of "Gladiator" or "300." Hyperdramatic Bombast at JUST the wrong moment. It doesn't sink the film, but people who haven't bought in to the bitter, acidic meal Darabont is serving will likely snicker under their breath and wonder why Leonidas doesn't just stride out of the mist and shout the tentacles and spikes off the things in the mist. And Darabont's ruthlessness might also shut people out of the film before they ever get to the ending. There are horrible, grisly deaths in this movie. There is suffering and screaming, and none of it is pretty or quick or stylized. It is clumsy and desperate and wide-eyed, unblinking and open-mouthed. And that's before the question of human sacrifice is posed. The movie barrels through and collects and amplifies fear and misery so well that the fact the setting of the human sacrifice discussion comes by the beer cooler near the cereal aisle doesn't even register as remotely silly. It's the mendacity that makes it more horrific. It is inside the store where Darabont adds to King's story, gives it a sour theme and gets it drunk on indignant cynicism in the face of hope or faith. And it's outside the store, in the final minutes of the film, where the most horrific events of the movie take place, and they involve not a single tentacled, spiked, bloodsucking insectoid freak. What happens at the tail end of this flick will anger some audience members who came this far in the narrative looking for any sort of redemption or ray of hope to cut through the gray slowly suffocating the film. Because Darabont goes the other way. Way the other way. And yet, it's not bleak and mean for the sake of being bleak and mean. There's more going on there than just relentlessly punishing the audience for having an outlook on life lighter than the shade of arterial spray. I just don't think people will be prepared, really, for Darabont to be the one doing this to them. Or King, even. King's written mean, spiky stories before whose whole purpose is to stab your hand for picking it up while he giggles like a loon at getting you a good one. King never wrote anything this mean, and Darabont never swung anything like a closed fist and smashed you in your softer parts with it before, either. He declares his intentions to do so right up front, if you know what you're looking for: David Drayton paints movie posters for a living, like Drew Struzan. Bright, watercolored pieces of beauty, in homage to cinema, drying on canvas. And Darabont lets you look at them for 5 or 6 seconds. And then with no real warning, and no bombast, he smashes a tree into them, through a window. And then he cuts to black.

This guy liked it but didn’t love it, and he has some issues even as he recommends it:

Harry, If you use this, please refer to me as ProfessorSmackDown. I too attended THE MIST premiere last night and I won't bother to repeat all that's been said on the positive side. To recap, though, this film is surprisingly good. Definitely the best Stephen King adaptation put to screen (okay, well perhaps tied with MISERY and STAND BY ME). All of the performances were absolutely top notch. Hopefully this helps Thomas Jane revive his mainstream appeal a bit more, especially after the mess that was PUNISHER. And it's always good to see Marcia Gay Harden going over the top - in a movie, NOT in a friggin' "Law and Order" rerun. The bottom line is that this movie works so well because it is played totally straight from start to finish. An alternate world has descended upon a small town and the folk react - and sadly, die - accordingly. I teach at NYU, so naturally I felt compelled to respond to that absolutely inane review that NYU screenwriting student sent in. Much like the characters of the film, it's obvious that he was simply SCARED and, like the typical teenage boy who thinks he's too cool for school, he's trying to mask it in an attack on the film's dialog, the acting, the directing, etc. etc. To say that NOTHING works in this film is one of the, to be blunt, most idiotic things I've ever heard. Why? Because pretty much EVERYTHING works in this film. It's not one of the greatest films of all time, but it might be one of the best horror films of all time. It's really that good. The only thing that suffers is the CGI. Yes, in some spots it really does look too digital, too 2D - but then again, so did the lame aliens in Spielberg's WAR OF THE WORLDS. It's distracting a few times, but overall - especially the sequences with the very large, very scary creatures in the mist - it was convincing enough. The main reason I'm writing in, though, is regarding the ENDING. I barely slept last night. I'm simply haunted by that f-ing ending. Before the film started, Frank Darabont thanked Bob Weinstein for having "the balls" to make this movie with him, because "no other studio would touch it." The entire film I wondered if that was just some lame overstatement, something Darabont felt compelled to say. And then the film's final 5 minutes happened. And I understood. It's surely the ballsiest ending I've seen in a mainstream film in some time and, yes, it will certainly polarize viewers, and I'm not sure I would have wanted a different ending, but the one we're given is unforgettable: it's shocking, and it's painful to watch - especially given the (VAGUE SPOILER) supermarket climax. You'll know what I mean when I see it - it's a twisted and powerful sequence and when the film ends, you realize it was just about the most demented appetizer into a film's ending you'll see this year. Ignore the mediocre CGI in the first hour, and enjoy. -Professor

And finally, we’ve got the one dissenting voice from the batch of MIST reviews in my e-mail box. And I’m not surprised at all to hear some dissent on this one. From the aesthetic to the stylistic choices in narrative to the ending, this is a film that makes big decisions, a film that is not designed to play to the broadest possible audience. Love it or hate it, it seems to be forcing people to react. I think with horror, you have to hand yourself over to a movie, and if you don’t... if the film never really hooks you properly... there’s nothing more unappealing. Sounds like that’s what happened for this guy...

Last night I attended a Below the line screening of the new Stephen King’s The Mist. I’ve read a lot of reviews and the buzz around this movie and was excited to get a chance to see an advanced screening. I’ve read the novella years ago and thought it was pretty good (audio book version is terrible BTW) and I’d always thought it would make a decent transition to film in the right hands. Just a little info- Below the line is an entertainment industry group that shows special screenings of many different types of films. A few weeks back I went to a screening of Ratatouille w/ a Q+A after with Brad Bird and others who worked on the film. They also previewed Lars and the Real Girl with another Q+A after. BTL gives you a great opportunity to not only see advanced screenings, but to talk with the directors, writers, visual effects artists behind the films. So I was caught up in the buzz after reading positive reviews from others who’d had a chance to preview The Mist and I was looking forward to seeing it for myself. This enthusiasm lasted about 5 minutes into the film when the dialog showed no signs of rising out of “Direct to DVD” quality. It’s not just that it’s bad dialog (though it’s pretty bad!), I think it’s the delivery. Most of the characters deliver their lines as if performing a reading or a rehearsal that somehow got filmed and made it into the final film. They say their lines, almost visibly step back so the next actor can say their piece and then the next, and so on. This is pretty irritating when Ms. Carmody steps up to deliver her many biblical rants. And the way her “followers” suddenly step in line to follow her absurd beliefs and the things she gets them to do are totally unbelievable. No one is this gullible even in a time of extreme stress. No one would do the things she tells them to. At least she has some fairly amusing lines early on. One exception was the performance of the character Ollie – Toby Jones who does a good job with the material he’s given. He’s the one bright spot in this wretched film. About 5 minutes in my friend leaned over to whisper, “This is really really terrible.” This was even before The Mist hits the town! I won’t go into detailed plot descriptions as I’m sure everyone here is familiar with the story. But here’s the basics (spoilers ahead I guess) An otherworldly mist takes over a small town after a violent thunderstorm. There are “things” in the mist. And what badly rendered “things” they are. An early attack by a tentacle creature looks so obviously CG that it takes you right out of the moment. The pit monster Sarlac in Return of the Jedi was handled better. Even though half a dozen of these tentacles enter the scene, only one attacks one of the 4 characters. The doomed bag-boy Norm might as well of had “expendable character number one” written on his forehead. The cast is filled with these obviously soon to be killed characters. It’s like watching an old episode of Star Trek where if you saw any new character beaming down with Kirk and Spock, you knew in 2 minutes that guy would be sucked into a hole, eaten by a plant, turned into a smoking pile of goo... or whatever. There are no surprises here on who’s going to get it or when. The CG quality is very made for TV drama. The tentacles are too shiny and appear weightless. The spiders that appear in later scenes are monochromatic and could have done with a little more artistic development. It looked like they may have run out of time and just went with what they had. Sure they’re supposed to be from another dimension or wherever, but they’ should at least appear to have some heft and weight to them and not bounce and float about the scene. They scuttle over countertops, bodies, cars, but never really seem to be there at all. Their monochromatic coloring and sharp edge rendered look make them look very CG and takes away from any real threat they pose. Their acid web spitting was a pretty cool idea, just wish the monsters appeared less CG. The little teradactyl creatures looked like featherless chickens flapping around the store. And again, not very threatening because of their lack of appearing to be there at all. Something that really takes away from the feeling of any threat or impending doom is the lack of any background or ambient musical score to lend atmosphere or help build suspense. Characters say their lines against total silence. I guess this was to try and give the grocery store scenes some sense of reality, but actually makes the dialog all the more groan-worthy when delivered in a total vacuum. When Thomas Jane screams his horribly repetitive, anguished scream, it sounds so false against all that silence, you just wish he’d shut up already. This is a huge problem as when music does finally does kick in at the end – an irritating Enya-esque yodel (think Gladiator) is so jarring and heavy handed that many in the theater burst out laughing. I heard one viewer remark, “A little late for a soundtrack don’t you think?” Audience reaction varied. Some clapping at the end, though not much. Few to no jumps or screams as the set ups were so obvious you’d have to be 5 years old not to see them coming. Many unintentional laughs and groans at the dialogue. And the ending, just some weary sighs. And the supposedly bleak ending is so obvious and still pretty hollywood considering, I don’t think it will polarize many viewers so much as make them say, “Well DUH! Saw that coming!” Direct to DVD pretty much sums this one up. Very disappointing. Thanks DaveNLA