Saturday, November 24, 2007
You know when you have your hopes up about something?* You try to temper it, to think, it really can't be as good as I hope, as I know it could be? You read some really positive reviews about it and maybe get a little bit more hopeful, but still try to temper it. Then someone whose opinion you really respect REALLY likes it so off like a bubbling ornament from the 60's you go.
You can tolerate the idiots talking, no big. Then it starts. All innocuous enough, and you are enjoying it! Hurrah!!!! Then the ending comes and it is such a crashing all encompassing, wave after wave of shitiness it completely obliterates the whole mess. Yup. That was THE MIST.
WHAT A DRAG.
See I have been a Stephen King fan since I was far too young to be reading these books. I remember my Dad had a copy of 'Salems Lot when I was in about grade oh 2 or 3. I was quite entranced with it, and stole it after he finished it. I read it too, the whole thing**. Then I slept with the lights on until I was about 15. Did this stop me? NO WAY! I reckon this is what gave me my love of all things horror. I can watch stuff that has other people cringing, crying and weeing their pants (sorry Chris:P) with glee. BUT FOR THE LOVE OF THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT STAY FAR AWAY FROM THE MIST. It was more disappointing than Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. That is really saying something.
*In this case a movie. Dur.
**I was a tenacious little reader. Too big for my own britches I reckon. Doing book reports on Harold Robbins novels in Grade 7, my teacher asked me where I got these books and I was "like in the bookcase at home duh!"