It’s time to go back to our old friend Stephen King, with a
difference this time. Firstly, this one involves one of my favored cult
directors, David Cronenberg, and the one, the only, Christopher Walken. You don’t
really see much of the latter two’s trademarks at first, but they do crop up
later in the flick, and satisfyingly so. Yes, it’s The Dead Zone—and not the
2002 TV series that I never watched, probably because I was foolishly trying to
see if Star Trek Enterprise was any good at that time.
The premise involves one of King’s favorite tropes, the
inexplicable occurrence of psychic powers. Okay, this time it is somewhat
explained—here, Walken, who is made up to be almost unrecognizable in the
earlier scenes, gets involved in a car accident. A good bump on the noggin is
enough for him to unlock the power of precognition, which he can activate by
grabbing someone. However, the power happens to physically degenerate oneself,
and as the movie goes on, Walken becomes the gaunt, wild-haired person we tend
to know him as. Though by his standards, his performance is somewhat
understated for a lot of the film.
Cronenberg is known for his deliciously grotesque body
horror, the apex of which was his version of The Fly, starring Jeff Goldblum.
There’s not much of that here—even when Walken sets out to use his power to
uncover the truth behind a grisly murder, we don’t really see much. At first.
Once he chases down the murderer, then we get to see Mr. Cronenberg indulge his
tastes for mutilation—and whereas The Fly, well-crafted as it was, got a bit
over the top to truly terrify, let’s just say it tends to be the more down-to-earth
flesh ripping that gets me wincing.
Between this, the film can be a bit slow, mostly as Walken
gets to grips with his condition and family. However, he soon starts getting
roped with in with a scumbag of a populist politician running for the US
Senate. Around this part in the film he starts wearing a hilarious black
trenchcoat, bringing to mind his future role in Burton’s Sleepy Hollow. A
glimpse into the future from said politician uncovers a horrifying fate for the
whole world, and Walken has to stop talken’ and start walken’ out to save
humanity.
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| That's not how we usually see the Walken... |
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| Ah, that's better. |
The Dead Zone can drag a bit at times, but as it goes on, it
starts to ramp up with Cronenberg’s distinctive sense of existentialist dread, and
you get your dose of good Walken. Martin Sheen plays the aforementioned apocalyptic
politician, and he’s arguably the highlight of the film, playing up someone who
ranges from charm to mania with all too disturbingly familiar mannerisms in
this day and age. Now, if you want more over the top grisliness from
Cronenberg, fair enough, in which case, his infamous Scanners is more your
type, and is also what you more expect from a movie of his involving weird psionic
abilities. And as far as King adaptations go, well, it’s no It or Shining, but
it is definitely above hilarious dreck like the Langoliers.
As such, if you fancy a slow-burning but nicely creepy
Cronenberg flick with plenty of Walken, give this one a shot. It’s fairly
obscure even in the 80s horror niche, but I’m all about seeking out little
things like that. And this one, though not as memorable as your Videodromes or
Shivers, did that nicely.
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