Nevermind that The Dark Tower didn't light the world on fire, Stephen King is all the rage right now. The latest adaptation of his book It has indeed smashed box office records for R-rated films, horror films, and movies released in September, a notoriously quiet month—fun fact, it nearly tripled previous weekend record holder, 2015's Hotel Transylvania 2.
Nevertheless, the King train rolls on to Netflix with two new projects. First up, the premiere of Gerald's Game is only four days away and the trailer for it looks intense...
Sexy Carla Gugino in there doing sexy things. Bruce Greenwood being a creep. It's got it all. Director and editor Mike Flanagan made last year's raved about indie Hush, a movie I'll never watch, but I'll check this out for sure. Part of me thinks Bruce Greenwood doesn't make bad movies, and then I remember that he's in both Disturbing Behavior and Double Jeopardy, which are awful and sleazy as hell.
Next up, King regular Tom Jane—who will never be better than he was on Arrested Development—returns for a third go-around with one of King's stories. First he was in the farting aliens movie Dreamcatcher—directed by Lawrence Kasdan, who had two guys fired recently for not taking his screenplay seriously. Jane later headlined the film adaptation of The Mist which people only remember for its huge downer of an ending.
Now Tom Jane is back in 1922, another Netflix adaptation of King's work, this time a novella that was released as part of King's 2010 story collection "Full Dark, No Stars." It's pretty bleak looking, check it out...
Looks like The Tell Tale Heart meets Willard meets O Brother Where Art Thou. I was also fairly certain that the wife was played by Julianne Nicholson. Nope, turns out it's Molly Parker from Deadwood. Oops. They should play sisters in something.
Anyway, King's name alone will be enough to get most folks to tune in since they just spent money to see It. What remains to be seen is if either of these will be any good. The further you dig into King's catalog looking for things that haven't been adapted yet, the bleaker it gets. Word to Netflix: Never, ever adapt "Rose Madder." Please. I threw that book across the room roughly two-thirds of the way through and never looked back.