I happen to like a lot of Stephen King's work, even though almost everything he does needs to be put on the treadmill for a year. But 20 minutes into this I was cursing myself out loud for actually sitting and watching. I don't know how much King had to do with this screenplay. But somebody ought to get his ass sued.
The script is a mail-it-in, whack-you-in-the-face mediocrity that makes you wonder what clueless desk jockey actually OK'd payment for it. The performances range from bland to the teeth-grindingly awful. The director probably should take a major hit too, with the caveat that the first two handicaps have effectively sent him into battle with a water pistol.
Speaking of battles – can somebody please pass a law forbidding the use of the traumatized Vietnam vet as a cinematic device? King resorts to this one a lot, usually when he wants a character with an unpredictable edge. But by now it is limp, it is exceedingly tired, it is as much of a cliché as John Rambo. It is also more than a little insulting to the vets who actually trod the battlefields of Southeast Asia. Please – take it out back and have it shot.
You have to wonder what was going on when Kandyse McClure, as the vet's wife, began shooting her first Corn scenes. Was it then the director got those first, sinking premonitions of disaster? Did he even try to inject a little, well, direction into the proceedings? Because hers is one of the stunningly bad performances, even by SyFy standards. McClure apparently never thought of attempting a little variety in her readings. What we get is a single-note, one-pitch whine that after five minutes feels like a screwdriver in your ear. I'd love to know if anybody actually tried to get her to modulate once every scene or so. But no, forget any change-ups. She keeps on pumping her junior high fastball until you're swearing at the flat-screen. Wasn't anybody awake when she was filming? I haven't seen Ms. McClure in anything else, and maybe everybody just wrote this off and went for the quickie paycheck once they realized what a mess was in the making. But if this is a representative sample of McClure's talents, she ought to thank God for those limpid eyes and cute booty. Because otherwise she'd probably be dumping fries in the deep fat, back wherever she came from.
As the post-Vietnam husband, David Anders at least lowers his voice occasionally. But this erstwhile jungle fighter loses credibility when, hunted through the corn by the demonic children, he blunders around with all the stealth of a tractor with a flat. Throw in the out-loud conversations he conducts with himself, and you could hear the guy from Mars. I want to see this man's DD-214.
The children are dull, unbelievable, and anything but scary. Some of the sets are nice, especially inside the church. I actually thought the "fertilization" scene on the altar was mildly creepy, with the manic, orgasmic reaction shots from the little kids looking on. But on the whole, as with so many of King's works that get transferred to the screen, this whole thing is grade A turkey.
There is one amusing moment. Anders stumbles on Vickie's (his wife) crucified body in the middle of the field, and falls to his knees in anguish. Not funny, you protest? Laughably unbelievable, I reply. Because, given what we've seen of Vickie, any normal man would have been the first one in line to plant corncobs in her head.
The script is a mail-it-in, whack-you-in-the-face mediocrity that makes you wonder what clueless desk jockey actually OK'd payment for it. The performances range from bland to the teeth-grindingly awful. The director probably should take a major hit too, with the caveat that the first two handicaps have effectively sent him into battle with a water pistol.
Speaking of battles – can somebody please pass a law forbidding the use of the traumatized Vietnam vet as a cinematic device? King resorts to this one a lot, usually when he wants a character with an unpredictable edge. But by now it is limp, it is exceedingly tired, it is as much of a cliché as John Rambo. It is also more than a little insulting to the vets who actually trod the battlefields of Southeast Asia. Please – take it out back and have it shot.
You have to wonder what was going on when Kandyse McClure, as the vet's wife, began shooting her first Corn scenes. Was it then the director got those first, sinking premonitions of disaster? Did he even try to inject a little, well, direction into the proceedings? Because hers is one of the stunningly bad performances, even by SyFy standards. McClure apparently never thought of attempting a little variety in her readings. What we get is a single-note, one-pitch whine that after five minutes feels like a screwdriver in your ear. I'd love to know if anybody actually tried to get her to modulate once every scene or so. But no, forget any change-ups. She keeps on pumping her junior high fastball until you're swearing at the flat-screen. Wasn't anybody awake when she was filming? I haven't seen Ms. McClure in anything else, and maybe everybody just wrote this off and went for the quickie paycheck once they realized what a mess was in the making. But if this is a representative sample of McClure's talents, she ought to thank God for those limpid eyes and cute booty. Because otherwise she'd probably be dumping fries in the deep fat, back wherever she came from.
As the post-Vietnam husband, David Anders at least lowers his voice occasionally. But this erstwhile jungle fighter loses credibility when, hunted through the corn by the demonic children, he blunders around with all the stealth of a tractor with a flat. Throw in the out-loud conversations he conducts with himself, and you could hear the guy from Mars. I want to see this man's DD-214.
The children are dull, unbelievable, and anything but scary. Some of the sets are nice, especially inside the church. I actually thought the "fertilization" scene on the altar was mildly creepy, with the manic, orgasmic reaction shots from the little kids looking on. But on the whole, as with so many of King's works that get transferred to the screen, this whole thing is grade A turkey.
There is one amusing moment. Anders stumbles on Vickie's (his wife) crucified body in the middle of the field, and falls to his knees in anguish. Not funny, you protest? Laughably unbelievable, I reply. Because, given what we've seen of Vickie, any normal man would have been the first one in line to plant corncobs in her head.