H'ween Horrorthon: Misery

Hello, and welcome.

My name is Carlos G. Hard manual-laborer by day. Pop culture blogger, all around freak by night.

Every year since 2013, I have a mini-horror movie marathon to celebrate Halloween, the ONLY holiday on the calendar worth celebrating.

Yes, I get that even a 45-year-old queer like myself oughta go out dressed as the latest serial killer/movie monster and celebrate with other beasties, ghoulies, and freaks and whatnot, but since I'm done with trick-or-treating (and have been since the age of eight) and haven't been to an adult Halloween party since 2010, one of the ways I enjoy celebrating is doing a Blu-ray marathon of all my favorite classic horror thrillers and, yes, even a few comedies from the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and, yes, the 90s — perhaps maybe the 2000s or '10s if the need arises.

Even though it's still September, I've begun watching and am now blogging them for posterity. The first entry is a favorite of mine that took repeated viewings for me to appreciate it. It was, after all, adapted from a Stephen King novel that I read and absolutely loved. The book (and film) is Misery.

Misery, the book, was published in 1987 (30 years ago — so it's somewhat of an anniversary) and its film adaptation was three years later. Overseeing the film was popular comedy director, Rob Reiner, best known for The Princess Bride, This Is Spinal Tap, When Harry Met Sally... and subsequently A Few Good Men. This was his second adaptation of a Stephen King story having found success in Stand By Me in 1986, which was an adaptation of the Stephen King story, "The Body" from his Different Seasons collection. That was about a group of teenagers who go hunting for a local teen killed by a train and the group's efforts to bond with each other. Misery (the book) was a full-throttle horror story about a famed romantic novelist who nearly dies in a car accident. He's rescued by his self-proclaimed "number-one fan"; a one-time nurse who is at once his angel of mercy and also his cruelest punisher. Her moral code dictates that the ONLY books Paul Sheldon need write are books about her favorite pioneer woman Misery Chastain. His new book, Fast Cars is a profanity-laden mess, which she forces him to burn his only copy, and she is hungry for his latest novel, Misery's Child. His big mistake? Killing his heroine off at the end through child birth.

She, not surprisingly, goes ballistic and threatens him with life and limb (not to mention a chopped off foot and thumb) if he doesn't revive her favorite character in a new book called Misery's Return, with her as his editor, agent, and even potential executioner, if she's NOT pleased with the final result.

The film was released in November of 1990 and it was highly-anticipated by me, as I had finally read the King book and had nightmares galore after I had finished it! The trailer promised a killer scary film version with James Caan cast as Paul Sheldon (Robert DeNiro, Warren Beatty, and William Hurt were all in the running for the lead) and a relative unknown stage actress named Kathy Bates had been given the plum role of the demented, beyond-psychotic fan, Annie Wilkes.

I saw the film in a dark theater and after ten minutes of previews, it started. The movie opens strangely with Caan as Sheldon finishing his as-yet-untitled novel, enjoying a cigarette and a glass of Dom Perignon; driving out of his Colorado hotel room, right into the throws of a blizzard (set weirdly to Junior Walker's 60s hit "Shotgun"). His car veers off a cliff and hits an embankment where he's left there to die. Flashback to a conversation between he and his agent (the late, great Lauren Bacall who probably just did it for a paycheck) where he regrets writing the character in the first place and is glad he killed her off and talking about what he'd like to "leave on his tombstone." Poor choice of words!

Next scene is the Annie Wilkes character introduced and showing off her presumably angelic side. She rescues him, keeps him bed-bound to recuperate, professes to be his "Number One Fan", and is grateful that he had his little "accident." Seriously, major WTF! She's all too excited to read the latest Misery novel, as she's read most of his new non-Misery manuscript and (like in the book) forces him to burn his only copy on account she just didn't like the "language."

Like the novel, she ecstatically reads Misery's Child, only to find out she's dead giving birth to her child. She flies into a rage and threatens him with "If I die, YOU die!" (ooh, I'm a scurrred), bolts the door and oh — I forgot. NOT included in the book are two characters, a husband-and-wife sheriff-and-deputy-team played by the brilliant Richard Farnsworth and Frances Sternhagen, both who have been informed of Sheldon's disappearance and are on the case. Farnsworth is able to get close enough to Wilkes before — eh, let's just say, we kind of saw it coming.

Wilkes (Bates) makes Sheldon revive the character in a new novel called Misery's Return. Up to now, the film is somewhat faithful to the book with the exception of the added characters, but in an effort to spur the project along and to keep Sheldon in line, she hobbles him — with a sledgehammer!

Jesus H. Christ?! Okay, up to now, I had been relatively pleased with the film version. William Goldman, the scribe who wrote The Princess Bride had remained as faithful as he was allowed to be. But, the "hobbling" scene, rubbed me the wrong way in so many ways! I'll explain. So here it goes!

***SPOILER ALERT (for those who haven't seen it, but seriously, folks, it's 27 years old! It's gotta be on NetFlix by now!)***

In the novel, Annie Wilkes grills Paul Sheldon about how many times he'd left his room when she was away. The tally was seven times. She's tied him to the bed. She brandishes an axe and a blow torch and gets into her speech about the Kimberly Diamond Mines. The novel has her chopping off Sheldon's foot and cauterizing the wound with the torch. Paul Sheldon is in obvious excruciating pain and King holds you captive with the gory details of Paul's stumping. The film version: Bates ties Caan to the bed, we get the Mine speech again and brandishes a sledgehammer and breaks both his feet at the ankles. The scene is upsetting indeed, but my question remained, why? The book was far more effective and stomach-turning, as it speaks to the level of sadism that Wilkes is willing to go to keep Sheldon under her thumb. The film version was sanitized and watered-down in my opinion. My initial assessment was that it was a mediocre version of the book.

It was little comfort to learn that Reiner himself had to tone the "hobbling" scene due to his inability to even cast the film. No one wanted to do the film with the book's axe version; not even Caan himself. After Goldman rewrote the scene and finally got Bates on board, the film was shot. This forced me finally to realize that book-to-film adaptations were NEVER like the book and that it was mapped out in pre-production and post-production as well.

So, in wrapping, why is this film a mainstay in my horror movie repertoire? It's simple. Kathy Bates. If Reiner had a stroke of genius, it was casting Bates in the role. She was (and will always be) Annie Wilkes. She never overreached, overacted, or felt the need to make her more monstrous as she already was. She was calculating, conniving, psychotic and, while slightly human, remained pure evil. Bates found all the right notes and played them (and us) to a flawless tee. She was so brilliant, she even won an Oscar her first time out (beating out Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep that year) and this is still the ONLY Stephen King film adaptation to even win an Oscar. Neither well-crafted films The Shawshank Redemption or The Green Mile were able to match that feat. Isn't likely that The Dark Tower or the new version of Stephen King's IT will be called come Oscar time.

And there it is...the moral of the story. Never kill off your book characters, lest you want a crazy-ass woman who's your number one fan to break your damn friggin' ankles!

Next up...a comedy. I promise.