Thursday, October 15, 2009

Dreamcatcher - 2003

From the diary of Lawrence Kasdan: "May 1, 2003: Dear diary, Shit! I fear that I have done something horribly unjust to my own fucking career. It's possible that my only hope now may be Plan X: Remake my beloved 'Big Chill.' All is lost."

This film is a fucking disaster. I got it for free, in a box of VHS from a friend who was moving (I never turn that offer down, even if it's a box full of cartoon classics and copies of Jerry Maguire). I glanced at the back of the sleeve: Stephen King blah blah, What? Kasdan? Hmmm, Jason Lee (I love him! His delivery is classic.), Morgan Freeman (Cool!) and Donnie Wahlberg, (Weird. Ok.) I'm in. Well, Party-Fucking-Foul. This shit had me squinting and tilting my head, early on. How the fuck did they pull this cast, with this script? I mean, Lee brought his signature snaps ("Reefer Sutherland." Put that one in the bag, for the hipsters.) but why would Freeman sign on to this piece of shit? For fun? Is he an avid reader and wanted to try a King adaptation (He did mention that he likes Elmore Leonard, while filming The Big Bounce.)? Or was it just the chance to rock that ridiculous flat top and those wild-ass eye-brows? The second choice is my guess on Kasdan's motivation for this, having had a handfull of his fellow, old-school "New Hollywood" peers offer up thier attempts at the name-bassed sub-genre. Embracing that observation, I saw scores of classic King-isms: from leeches on my dick, to childhood flashbacks and buddy teamwork. From sewers and train tracks and snowy mountains, to fuzzy meteors and Mr. Flagg, I mean Gray. Along with those King-isms you also get bits of tricks o' the trade, signatured by Kasdan's bros: Lucas's wipe transitions (out of nowhere, I'll add), Cameron's infamous water worm, Spielberg's Alien Investigation team, complete with puffy white space-man suits, and Scott's flesh-busting aliens. So if you're a junkie for nostalgia, all of this stuff is crammed in there for ya, tragiaclly leaving no room for a sensible plot. Yep, this one crashes and burns early. And Let's not forget the real loser in all of this: poor Donnie Wahlberg, who gets to keep his film career afloat by taking one for the team and playing a chemo-mumalard (they coulda just rang up Clint Howard and saved the make-up) who's cheeseball transformation later, is a step up. Man, way to cowboy up, Donnie. Seriously, Props. All P.C. comments aside, I'll reiterate: This film is a fucking tragedy. If there is no other option, invest in this film. Have fun! It's all this mess is worth.

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