There have been a lot of films based on Stephen King's stories so odds are, since we're talking about Hollywood, most suck. But after 1990's Misery, filmmakers seem to have an especially hard time with King's horror stories. Dolores Clairborn and Needful Things had their moments, but that's about it. So, it's either surprising or extremely logical that it took the director of two of King's most well-respected non-horror adaptations (The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile) to finally rise to the challenge.
![]()
Frank Darabont's The Mist, an adaptation of King's short story of the same name from Skeleton Crew, starts with a thunderstorm forcing the inhabitants of a small Maine town to crowd into the local grocery store for supplies. Out of nowhere, a huge rolling fog descends from the nearby mountains and blankets the town. When large, slimy tentacles emerging from the mist slide under the loading dock's door and snatch the awkward teenage bagboy, the customers decide that maybe they should stay put for a while.
![]()
As fear consumes them, locals clash with out-of-towners, middle-class clashes with working-class, and the secular clash with the religious. The latter is led by Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden), a mean, judgmental Bible-thumper who's status as the town crazy slowly ascends to leader as her apocalyptic predictions start coming true.
And how do they come true? Oh, well, because of the giant bugs that emerge from the mist, of course. And the pterodactyl thingies that eat the bugs and break into the store. And the giant spiders that shoot deadly webs. And a giant, clawed squid/scorpion thing. And a giant thingy thing with six feet and tentacles and claws and other giant things. Yeah, needless to say, they're creatures not of this world (or my vocabulary). And the effects, not counting the first cartoon-ish attack from the tentacles, are mostly believable. The details on the bugs' and spiders' faces are so clear, you can practically see them viciously grinning before taking a chunk out of someone's spinal cord. And Darabont deftly maneuvers through the store during the creatures' attacks, making us aware of the actions and location of all the major characters without using the current, clichéd style of ADD-style jump-cuts.
Strangely, as fun and scary and gorey as the "monster movie" aspect of the film is, the real guts (if you will) is King's and Darabont's commentary on crowd dynamics. With a cast of sixty people stuck in one location, Darabont has a lot to deal with. As the situation goes from bad to worse, paranoia and desperation escalate. Their survival instincts turn from the beasts to each other. Cliques soon almost feel like tribes as allegiances switch and fractions grow and dwindle in both number and power. Early on, people think nothing of slapping or throwing canned peas at Mrs. Carmody (and Harden is so good and scary you'll want to as well). But, she keeps on keepin' on, and her preaching soon attracts more and more people desperate for answers.
![]()
On the other side is David (Thomas Jane), his five-year-old son, Billy, and an assortment of town oddballs and store staff. While David emerges as the early leader, Mrs. Carmody's influence outpaces his and soon her rabid crowd is throwing people outside as human sacrifices and demanding that Billy be next. While they're never explicitly described as atheists, David's group clearly doesn't agree with Mrs. C's viewpoint. It's as if Pat Robertson (dressed in cardigans and frumpy floral dresses) and Christopher Hitchens (suddenly both ruggedly muscular and sober) were battling inside a CVS and everyone was invited.
What's fascinating is, at first, the film seems to be taking sides. Religous lady = crazy. Easy, right? Yeah, a little too easy. Instead, David's actions, which Mrs. Carmody condemns as "hubris," often get him and others in serious trouble. Trying to save people only ends up with some getting killed for their efforts. On the other hand, at least the proactive ones are also the ones defending the store from attacks, unlike Mrs. C and her followers who stand around praying or pointing fingers (or, you know, sacrificing people to appease an angry God, which I guess is a sign of proactive tendencies).
Even better for a scary movie, Darabont, as the screenwriter, never overestimates the importance of an explanation. There are references to "The Arrowhead Project" that is taking place in a top-secret military compound in the mountains next to the town. A soldier who was stationed there finally admits that scientists tried to open a window to another dimension and...that's pretty much all we get. Since the characters don't know any more, neither do we. Explanations for scary stories are rarely satisfactory, since the answer either sucks out all the suspense (like in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow), tidily overexplains (like many episodes of The X-Files) or feels lazy or even too over-the-top (King's own It).
![]()
The point isn't how the people got into their situation, the point is how they react once they're in it. And King obviously feels the same way as store assistant manager Ollie, who states, "As a species, we're fundamentally insane." If you take away communication systems and electricity, how long until we just lose it? If our lives are in danger, how quickly do we throw someone else in front of a giant man-eating beast?
To top it all off, Darabont tweaks King's original ending. Instead of King's mildly depressing ambiguity, Darabont goes full-out cruel (and, interestingly, it's against David and his posse, so who wins?). Without giving too much away, the twist at the end is so heart-wrenching, so balls-out vicious in its mocking of anything we originally took for courage (not to mention sound values, reasonable judgment calls and actual compassion) that I may hate Darabont.
Except for the fact that I love him. Because he infused a horror movie with topical religious debate with confidence (unlike The Reaping), post-9/11 paranoia with just enough distanced respect (unlike the War of the Worlds remake), heart-breaking emotional depth without schmaltzy clichés (unlike...well...how many horror flicks even attempt that?) and, most importantly, actual scares (unlike 99% of the rest of them), that I hope he gives up on the Oscar-winning dramas forever. Stephen King has written over 200 stories, including over 50 novels, so there's a lot left for Hollywood to screw up. Here's hoping Darabont is already saving another one right now.
Frank Darabont's The Mist, an adaptation of King's short story of the same name from Skeleton Crew, starts with a thunderstorm forcing the inhabitants of a small Maine town to crowd into the local grocery store for supplies. Out of nowhere, a huge rolling fog descends from the nearby mountains and blankets the town. When large, slimy tentacles emerging from the mist slide under the loading dock's door and snatch the awkward teenage bagboy, the customers decide that maybe they should stay put for a while.
As fear consumes them, locals clash with out-of-towners, middle-class clashes with working-class, and the secular clash with the religious. The latter is led by Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden), a mean, judgmental Bible-thumper who's status as the town crazy slowly ascends to leader as her apocalyptic predictions start coming true.And how do they come true? Oh, well, because of the giant bugs that emerge from the mist, of course. And the pterodactyl thingies that eat the bugs and break into the store. And the giant spiders that shoot deadly webs. And a giant, clawed squid/scorpion thing. And a giant thingy thing with six feet and tentacles and claws and other giant things. Yeah, needless to say, they're creatures not of this world (or my vocabulary). And the effects, not counting the first cartoon-ish attack from the tentacles, are mostly believable. The details on the bugs' and spiders' faces are so clear, you can practically see them viciously grinning before taking a chunk out of someone's spinal cord. And Darabont deftly maneuvers through the store during the creatures' attacks, making us aware of the actions and location of all the major characters without using the current, clichéd style of ADD-style jump-cuts.
Strangely, as fun and scary and gorey as the "monster movie" aspect of the film is, the real guts (if you will) is King's and Darabont's commentary on crowd dynamics. With a cast of sixty people stuck in one location, Darabont has a lot to deal with. As the situation goes from bad to worse, paranoia and desperation escalate. Their survival instincts turn from the beasts to each other. Cliques soon almost feel like tribes as allegiances switch and fractions grow and dwindle in both number and power. Early on, people think nothing of slapping or throwing canned peas at Mrs. Carmody (and Harden is so good and scary you'll want to as well). But, she keeps on keepin' on, and her preaching soon attracts more and more people desperate for answers.
On the other side is David (Thomas Jane), his five-year-old son, Billy, and an assortment of town oddballs and store staff. While David emerges as the early leader, Mrs. Carmody's influence outpaces his and soon her rabid crowd is throwing people outside as human sacrifices and demanding that Billy be next. While they're never explicitly described as atheists, David's group clearly doesn't agree with Mrs. C's viewpoint. It's as if Pat Robertson (dressed in cardigans and frumpy floral dresses) and Christopher Hitchens (suddenly both ruggedly muscular and sober) were battling inside a CVS and everyone was invited.What's fascinating is, at first, the film seems to be taking sides. Religous lady = crazy. Easy, right? Yeah, a little too easy. Instead, David's actions, which Mrs. Carmody condemns as "hubris," often get him and others in serious trouble. Trying to save people only ends up with some getting killed for their efforts. On the other hand, at least the proactive ones are also the ones defending the store from attacks, unlike Mrs. C and her followers who stand around praying or pointing fingers (or, you know, sacrificing people to appease an angry God, which I guess is a sign of proactive tendencies).
Even better for a scary movie, Darabont, as the screenwriter, never overestimates the importance of an explanation. There are references to "The Arrowhead Project" that is taking place in a top-secret military compound in the mountains next to the town. A soldier who was stationed there finally admits that scientists tried to open a window to another dimension and...that's pretty much all we get. Since the characters don't know any more, neither do we. Explanations for scary stories are rarely satisfactory, since the answer either sucks out all the suspense (like in Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow), tidily overexplains (like many episodes of The X-Files) or feels lazy or even too over-the-top (King's own It).
The point isn't how the people got into their situation, the point is how they react once they're in it. And King obviously feels the same way as store assistant manager Ollie, who states, "As a species, we're fundamentally insane." If you take away communication systems and electricity, how long until we just lose it? If our lives are in danger, how quickly do we throw someone else in front of a giant man-eating beast?To top it all off, Darabont tweaks King's original ending. Instead of King's mildly depressing ambiguity, Darabont goes full-out cruel (and, interestingly, it's against David and his posse, so who wins?). Without giving too much away, the twist at the end is so heart-wrenching, so balls-out vicious in its mocking of anything we originally took for courage (not to mention sound values, reasonable judgment calls and actual compassion) that I may hate Darabont.
Except for the fact that I love him. Because he infused a horror movie with topical religious debate with confidence (unlike The Reaping), post-9/11 paranoia with just enough distanced respect (unlike the War of the Worlds remake), heart-breaking emotional depth without schmaltzy clichés (unlike...well...how many horror flicks even attempt that?) and, most importantly, actual scares (unlike 99% of the rest of them), that I hope he gives up on the Oscar-winning dramas forever. Stephen King has written over 200 stories, including over 50 novels, so there's a lot left for Hollywood to screw up. Here's hoping Darabont is already saving another one right now.