While Stephen King novels have never done well being transferred to film, this one makes the rest look like Alfred Hithcock masterpieces.
I don't know what happens when one of this books, great or otherwise, is mangled by a director, actors, and a crew.
Right after his wife dies in a traffic accident, Pierce Brosnan starts having nightmares. The way those nightmares are portrayed, and the shabby way the subsequent events in Brosnan's life are depicted, shows the director just doesn't get Stephen King.
I persevered with this to no avail, having seen early on the (lack of) direction taken by the 'director'. What starts out bad, ends up worse, with the story ending up like it went straight to DVD without troubling any of the usual film outlets.
Maybe there's just too much in the average Stephen King book to be made into a film.
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