This is going to be a much shorter review then normal.
Not because the film, doesn’t warrant a long and dedicated review…
But here’s the thing, I have mild, very mild claustrophobia. It doesn’t crop up often in my day to day life, where a fear of heights is much more likely to make me its bitch. But like my weirdly specific OCD involving using cleaning products (If I don’t wash my hands the second I’m done with them I get the screaming memes. Don’t ask me why) it does crop up…
Particularly when it’s represented in fiction, either literary or cinematically.
Ah, you see where this is going now don’t you?
It’s the reason I didn’t go see Buried. It’s the reason that why, though I like and respect both Danny Boyle and James Franco I will not be seeing 127 Hours. Because although it will be part of the cinematic conversation I’m fairly sure the other theater patrons wouldn’t take kindly to the sounds of me alternating between sobbing and screaming.
It’s the reason that significantly Misery is the one Stephen King novel I have never been able to finish.
And it’s the reason that though I sat down to view Reiner’s respected adaptation with the best of intentions. Ready to praise James Caan and Kathy Bates for their committed performances, and Rob Reiner for his creative dynamic use of a limited mise en scene. My brain instead just started to emit a high pitch wailing keen when the movie started that didn’t subside until several hours of laying awake in bed afterwards. And which sounded a little like this
Which doesn’t make for the most insightful of criticisms.
So there you go. When I’m brought before St. Peter in Horror Heaven and have to account for the movies I couldn’t take, it won’t be Reogarrio Deodato, Jorge Buttgeriet, or John McNaughton who takes the honors.
No, it’ll be Rob Reiner. The man behind The Bucket List, Rumor Has It, and The Story Of Us.