Cell

#StokerScore 2/10

Imagery.... 

Carrie White, bathed in pig's blood, channeling the full extent of her telekinetic powers. Little Danny Glick, floating outside his friend's bedroom window, begging to be invited in. The gurgling voice in the storm drain saying 'they float, Georgie, and when you’re down here with me, you’ll float, too–'

"Sam Jackson was GREAT in The Big Game...."

There is a photo of Stephen King in every dictionary in the world next to the word prolific. Not only does he write amazing fiction, he does it consistently. Whether writing under a pseudonym, collaborating with another author, or just amusing himself, the guy is at the very least a hard worker whose writing creates enough dread to fill a lifetime's worth of nightmares.

His books have been read by millions, translated into umpteen languages and even his son has decided to follow in Dad's illustrious footsteps. This family connection may well prove to be prophetic if Joe Hill's (King's son) movies of his work continue to be on a par with some of his Dad's because the problem sure as hell isn't with the book writing, it's the movie adaptations.

Many* seem to agree that the Daniel Radcliffe-starring Horns wasn't a great movie, but it was a million times better than much of Stephen King's book-to-movie translations. (*Horns scores 41% over at Rotten Tomatoes) but compare that to Pet Sematary (43%), Needful Things (26%) or 2011's Pierce Brosnan-starring Bag of Bones which nobody has even bothered to review in five years.

50% of the 1408 audience felt the same way as you, John

The first heckler will no doubt notice that I'm cherry picking the worst and they'd have something of a point <cough> The Tommyknockers <cough>. King's written work has also produced absolute classics like The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile and, of course, Misery.

The second heckler may point out that King isn't responsible for how his books are translated into movies, but he is responsible for the screenplays to Sleepwalkers, Maximum Overdrive and this latest movie, Cell.

Imagine for a moment that the guy who created  The Dark Tower, collaborated on the creation of Jack Sawyer, and whose genius gave us the murderous Plymouth Fury, Christine, is also responsible for getting John Cusack and Sam Jackson to answer phones that have just turned people into murderous zombies and inexplicably reduced the population of Boston from 667,000 to 30 people waiting for Darwin Award levels of stupidity to bring them their next victim. It's hard not to lay some of this blame at the script doctor's door.

I'm not really knocking Stephen King though, the guy is a genius writer in my book whose literary work has given me hours of pleasure, but I am knocking the complete disregard of all involved towards making a great movie. Cusack is making a habit recently of channeling his inner Cage (Nicholas, not Luke), Jackson looks completely bored, and the director shouldn't be allowed near anything more dramatic than a school play ever again. And is it me, but why did this movie need to be executive produced by thirteen people? including Mr Cusack? Maybe that's what pushed Eli Roth away from directing it...

This is unfortunately the worst film I've seen this year..... and I've seen Zoolander 2

Victor Frankenstein

#StokerScore 1/10

I have been reading horror stories ever since I can remember. My Nan and Pop (Grandparents, in the Geordie dialect) had a little book of northern tales that I came across during a stay at their house outside Durham and it contained the grisly story of "The Lambton Worm". This, along with having the surname of Stoker, was like a gateway into all that was fantastical and horrific in fiction and I devoured every piece of pulp horror I could find and, with the invention of VHS, did the same with movies too. No movie was too Z-grade for me. 

In novel and novella form I was a big fan of Stephen King, Shaun Hutson, Guy N. Smith, Clive Barker and Brian Lumley, as well as the compendiums you could buy too. I never forgot the classics either, the ones that provided all of the inspiration. As well as dear old Bram there was Sheridan Le Fanu, Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Lovecraft and of course, Mary Wollstonecroft Shelley.

a doctor's worst nightmare that took a lot more than wire wool to get rid of

I was always aware of Frankenstein, even before reading the book. As a kid growing up in the 70's, the BBC would show occasional, late-night summer double-bills where they would pair a classic black-and-white horror from the 1930's with a contempory Hammer Horror. Such was Hammer's love for the classics, you could watch Boris Karloff, with the iconic square head and bolts, and then be blown away by the more visceral (Hammer movies were in colour) Christopher Lee.

I assume that because of the iconic nature of the visuals, Frankenstein eventually became the victim of parody, similar to other equally dark characters. 'Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein' was the end of the run for the character as something to make you squirm and cinemagoers would have to wait nine years for Hammer to revitalise the character and return him to something of his former glory.

The ensuing years saw Frankenstein's monster appear many times, but it wasn't until 1994 that we saw Shelley's character truly come to life through the eyes of Kenneth Brannagh and in the form of Robert de Niro. 

So how does this latest movie compare? Is it a new look at an old character? Well, it has certainly tried to take a different point of view, that of the maligned assistant Igor. But for all of that it is still lacking. The story of the monster, his creation and what it means to the worlds of science and theology, these are lost under overwhelming subplots of unfathomable revenge and unrequited love. It's a mess that even when pared back to the basics seems to lack a sense of direction, instead stumbling from one hackneyed scene to another.

Was the world ready for another Frankenstein movie? Well considering Universal's attempts to design a "Monster Universe" akin to marvel's superhero one, I have a feeling that it won't be too long before we get another one, whether we like it or not. Whether yet another telling of this tale can wash away the memory of Victor Frankenstein,  we'll have to wait and see. But if Dracula Untold and it's tacked-on ending are anything to go by, I won't be holding my breath.

I'll leave you with my favourite version of Frankenstein's assistant and the hopes that no-one ever tries to remake this