Fear does change everything.

I had no idea as my husband and I sat down to watch Stephen King"s The Mist in a nearly abandoned movie theatre (apparently, everyone was way more hip to watch Enchanted) that we were about to watch a clever didactic expounding on the power of fear in the breakdown of society. And yet...

The Mist begins innocently enough; there's (duh!) a mist that rolls in after a large storm, cutting off communications and power, and unfortunately also unleashing giant ... things. Our hero (Thomas Jane, who does a fantastic job with this role) is picking up storm repair supplies with his young son and his prickly neighbor (Andre Braugher) at the local store when said "things" start to converge on the store's parking lot, and wackiness ensures. Like most giant bug movies, the Army is involved in some nefarious yet not entirely explained way, and that's probably for the best (pats audience on the shoulder reassuringly). The real crescent wrench in this let's-bolt-the-doors-and-wait-to-be-saved situation is...are you ready? Marcia Gay Harding's Crazy Church Lady (incidentally, have you noticed how many crazy church ladies there are in Stephen King stories? Take a tally and e-mail me!). In a relatively short period of time, she's got the crowd convinced that this is the apocalypse, and she's the one who will show them the way to the One True (but bloody) Path...

The Mist isn't really about God, giant bugs, or the havoc each create inside our own heads ("Game over, man, game over!"), but rather *gulp* how quickly the fear we let into our lives can destroy our belief systems and our core values. In exchange, we give up the things we cherish most. It may sound goofy and preachy, but it's very timely (*cough*terrorish*cough*) and highly effective--if a bit talky at times. The ending is one that I found to be unflinchingly true. After all, the "bad guys" aren't the only ones who find themselves trapped in the rhetoric of fear, are they? In fact, if the bad guys are the ones spewing forth the rhetoric, who picks it up? Those who are willing to listen. And sometimes, even the people you think would have never listened have no place else to turn. They get tired and give in to the rhetoric, forgetting that words are, after all, just words. That's when the giant smack on the forehead at the end of the film comes in, and Frank Darabont's script doesn't shy away from exposing the demons in all of us.

On a very personal note, we saw this movie about a week before the birth and death of our son, Jack, and looking back on the film now makes me feel the ending even more heavily. "Fear is a terrible drug," as Rick James might say...

Story/direction: Four chainsaws for Darabont's script and direction, with points off for slight stagy feel at points. It has been waaaaay too long since I've read the short novel to recall how closely it stuck to the plot, but Darabont tends to be pretty reliable that way. I'd pick him for my book!

Acting: Five chainsaws for all the lead actors, including child actor Nathan Gamble, who does a great job freakin' out as any real kid would. Extra points to Marcia Gay Harding's Church Lady, who could have easily taken it over-the-top but didn't, and Toby Jones, who played Ollie Weeks, the gun-wielding grocer. Not so crazy about the blond chick Laurie Holden (his wife just died, lady, okay?) or why she's even there, but Frances Sternhagen's great can-tossing scene cancelled her out. Biggest casting complaint: WHY does Andre Braugher get such a big credit in the film when he's in about 20 minutes of it? Not right.

Critters:Six (you heard me) chainsaws for the kick-ass critters in the pharmacy.  Five for most of the others, and three for a few of the ones that just looked lazy.

Extra warm and fuzzy feeling chainsaw for use of Dead Can Dance in the soundtrack.

Rating: A rare five of five chainsaws. Nice going, Frank 'n Steve!