The 35th Precinct

Of Note:

-Do not see 1408. Perhaps it's because I'm prejudiced by a deep love for the source material, but God, what a dreadful adaptation. The plot was subverted from a nod to the Cthulu mythos into a trite story of closure and personal redemption. It was less about the fundamental, gut-deep wrongness of the room and more about the ghosties in the room. The screenwriters failed to do their homework, because there were no ghosts in 1408. That was the point.

Noise and bad overwrought acting from John Cusack drove the nail into the coffin, and it was the third movie out of which I have ever thought of walking. Cabin Fever and Open Water were the other two, for those who were wondering.

If you want another story from the Cthulu mythos by Stephen King, read "Crouch End" from the Skeleton Crew anthology. There is a monster here. A giant, tentacled one. And odd townspeople. And a section of London where stupid American tourists disappear.


And now, I don my ranting pants.

( A Rant About Flack and Danny and Their War Wounds of Woe )