The Mist
There is an interesting production story behind The Mist’s intensely disturbing finale. Apparently studio bosses told director Frank Darabont that there was no way he would be allowed to film it as such bleakness would affect box office takings. Darabont’s solution was to half the budget by cutting back on effects and using B-list actors, which meant he was allowed to keep the ending he wanted. The result is a much better film than would have resulted from a watered down compromise. The Mist can now join that hallowed pantheon of horror films with really, really upsetting endings, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Don’t Look Now, Seven, Angel Heart, The Vanishing (the original version, not the US remake), and more recently The Descent (the British version – for some insane reason, in the US the ending was cut out).
Darabont’s previous collaboration with Stephen King resulted in The Shawshank Redemption – a film that went from underrated (I was one of the two people who actually saw it in the cinema) to overrated (it’s now frequently cited as the greatest film of the 1990s). In adapting another King novella, Darabont appears at first to have taken a step back, since The Mist initially has the trappings of a sci-fi/horror B-movie, albeit an enjoyable one. But despite initial appearances, The Mist is more – much more – than mere pulp fiction. It is a fascinating political allegory of Bush’s America, 9/11 and the Iraq war, and also a deeply disturbing Lord of the Flies type examination of human nature.
The main character is artist David Drayton (Thomas Jane), whom movie buffs will immediately sympathise with because he paints film posters for a living and moans about how it is a lost art with studios these days turning to Photoshop to do quick, cheap posters. After a fierce storm which leaves his small town without power, David and his young son go to the supermarket to stock up on food, only to find a mysterious mist suddenly descend on the town, enveloping the supermarket and everyone in it. Very soon it becomes apparent there is something deadly in the mist killing people off, so the scene is set for a tense, claustrophobic siege drama as the people inside the shop try to defend themselves from these mysterious deadly creatures.
But although the monsters in the mist are truly horrible – especially in one monumentally gruesome sequence that will give arachnophobics nightmares for the rest of their lives – the real danger comes from inside the shop. It is here that The Mist is at its most interesting, as fanatically religious Mrs Camody (Marcia Gay Harden) tries to convince others trapped in the shop that this is God’s judgement. When she begins to convert people to her cause, it becomes clear that she intends to use non-believers as human sacrifices to appease the monsters. It is then hinted that military scientists may in some way have been responsible for the mist by experimenting with parallel realities, thus bringing these creatures into our universe.
The allegories are there for whoever wants to see them. The mist is international terrorism and specifically 9/11, brought about by interfering in something we had no business interfering in (parallel universe equals the Middle East). It is no mistake that the first “sacrifice” made by Mrs Camody is a US soldier. Such symbolism is clearly intentional, and though it might be tempting to view the film as anti-military, I think that is too simplistic. The soldiers trapped in the shop are honourable men who are simply following the instructions of their political overlords. There are many soldiers in Iraq who don’t agree with what is happening, but have no choice but to go because they are stationed (and often “sacrificed”) there.
The B-list cast – including such stalwarts as William Sadler, Brent Norton and the excellent Toby Jones – do a terrific job and really get their teeth into some very memorable characters. The visual effects are limited but well done (hiding CG in mist always helps), and the music (Mark Isham) and sound effects are employed to brilliant effect. It’s not always perfect. Occasionally the film slips into B-movie clichés including a couple of cheap, jump-out-of-your-skin-at-something-perfectly-harmless moments. It also feels a little overlong and rough around the edges, but overall this doesn’t harm the film particularly.
One area that must be addressed is the portrayal of Christians/Christianity and this presents some difficultly. Firstly and most obviously, Mrs Camody is not a genuine Christian but a fanatic who uses the Bible and the Book of Revelation in particular out of context to manipulate people into frenzied lunacy. She is clearly meant to be a Bush type figure, and as a result the viewer’s political beliefs will largely affect how offensive they find the film. But politics aside, I find it impossible to divorce the Mrs Camody character from the anti-Christian trend in Stephen King’s writing. King clearly sees American Christians as insane fanatics and even a cursory knowledge of his work reveals this (Carrie for instance and even The Shawshank Redemption). Quite possibly King has something to criticise, in that America does have more than its fair share of loony cultists, but it is his refusal to ever counter balance this with good portrayals of Christians that leads me to conclude he has something of an axe to grind. So with that baggage, I am forced to conclude that there is something here to offend Christians. But as I often say, I’d rather be offended than bored.
Which brings me to the stunningly cruel ending – one of the most disturbing, bleak, feel-bad, punch-in-the-guts horror finales I have seen for some time. If, like me, you want your pseudo-intellectual horror movies at full strength with no compromises then this couldn’t come more highly recommended. Others had best steer clear not just for the scares but for graphic bloody violence and strong swearing.
Simon Dillon, July 2008.
