Sep. 23, 2017 - Stephen King adaptation Gerald's Game is potent, horrific—and oddly cathartic
Stephen
King is having a moment, and so is Mike Flanagan. Coming off of the
modest success and positive critical buzz surrounding last year’s Hush and Ouija: Origin Of Evil, Flanagan decided to cash in his “director to watch” chips and re-team with Netflix for a film adaptation of Gerald’s Game (B+). It’s
not an easy sell: Not only is King’s book structured in such a way to
make it extremely difficult to adapt—much of it takes place inside the
mind of the main character, Jessie (Carla Gugino), as she lies
handcuffed to a bed, alone, after her husband dies mid-kinky sex—but it
deals with some very challenging themes of sexual abuse and the
silencing of women. In case you haven’t heard, those are both scalding-hot issues
at Fantastic Fest this year. But Flanagan’s film, and Gugino’s
performance in particular, addresses those themes in bold, cathartic
ways that allow Jessie to finally become the heroine of her own story
after a lifetime of sexual and emotional abuse. The credits rolled to
thunderous applause.
Perhaps because he’s had a couple of
decades to think about it, Flanagan’s vision for the film is assured,
full of intimate closeups that allow Gugino’s multi-layered performance
to shine. (In an interview with The A.V. Club earlier today, Flanagan said he read Gerald’s Game
when he was 19 and has been planning a film version ever since, even
carrying a copy of the book with him to pitch meetings just in case.) As
the film opens, Jessie and her husband Gerald (Bruce Greenwood) are
listening to a Sam Cooke song on the stereo of their absurdly expensive
car, on their way to a weekend retreat where they hope to reignite their
marriage over $200-a-serving Kobe steaks. But first on the agenda is a
bit of bondage, and Gerald soon pivots into a rape role-play that
triggers panic in his wife. In the fight that ensues, Gerald—his
already-stressed heart under extra strain thanks to the Viagra he popped
before their “game”—has a heart attack and collapses. Then the movie
really begins.
Flanagan’s
adaptation streamlines the storytelling, reviving Gerald (or, at least,
Jessie’s hallucination of Gerald) early on to serve as the voice of
every primal fear and traumatic memory that leaps to the front of
Jessie’s mind as the hours turn into days. This technique turns the
film’s lengthy second act into a combination chamber drama and survival
thriller, as dehydration, a vicious stray dog, and Jessie’s vision of an
unearthly “Moonlight Man” interrupt her dry verbal sparring with
Gerald’s misogynist mirage. Needless to say, things get really dark for a
while. But Gugino’s vulnerability and unshakeable will to live keep the
viewer invested in her—and thus the film—whether it’s through a series
of traumatic flashbacks or a horrifyingly realistic gore prosthetic that
had even the jaded critics at an early Fantastic Fest screening gasping
and looking away.
Unlike the recent Stephen King mega-hit It, Gerald’s Game stays
faithful to King’s ending, necessitating some clunky, groan-worthy
voiceover that stands in sharp contrast to the rest of the film. (Let’s
be honest: Stephen King is better at beginnings than endings.) Still,
overall, Flanagan’s passion project meshes nicely with his directorial
style, effectively deploying sickening practical effects from Robert
Kurtzman’s Creature Corps and a minimally applied score from The Newton
Brothers. (Interestingly, Flanagan declines to use musical cues in the
film’s horror sequences, letting silence build the dread instead.) As
the renewed wave of interest in Stephen King continues to crash on our
cinematic shores, we can only hope that future adapters and adaptions
will be so well matched.