A group of friends visit a lake where horror author Stephen King lives, and start getting killed off one at a time.
Review by Ben Dover:
You Can’t Kill Stephen King (2012) – 1.5 Rabid Typewriters
Well, slap me with a hardcover and call me Cujo! Just when I thought I’d seen every half-baked Stephen King knockoff, along comes this steaming pile of literary refuse. “You Can’t Kill Stephen King” is what you’d get if you fed a bunch of film school dropouts nothing but Bud Light and King CliffsNotes for a month.
The premise? A group of moronic twentysomethings head to Maine to find Stephen King’s house. Why? Who knows! It’s not like the man’s address is a closely guarded secret or anything. Anyway, faster than you can say “Pennywise’s red balloon,” these dim bulbs start getting picked off one by one in ways that vaguely resemble King’s stories.
The acting in this flick is so wooden, I’m surprised the cast didn’t get termites. Our leads have all the charisma of a lobster trap, stumbling through their lines like they’re reading them off cue cards held by a drunk cameraman. The dialogue is painfully stilted, making even King’s infamous “chucka-chucka” train sounds seem like Shakespeare in comparison.
As for the kills, they’re about as scary as a basket of kittens. The special effects budget must’ve been spent entirely on lobster rolls and Moxie, because these death scenes wouldn’t frighten a toddler. One guy gets offed by a lawnmower in what I can only assume is a nod to “The Lawnmower Man,” but it looks more like he tripped over his own feet and fell into a pile of ketchup.
The film’s attempts at humor are flatter than week-old Whoopie Pie. They throw in references to King’s work with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the kneecaps. Oh look, there’s a St. Bernard! And a creepy clown! And a girl who can start fires with her mind! It’s like they’re screaming, “Get it? GET IT?!” at the audience every five minutes.
Is there anything redeeming about this cinematic root canal? Well, the Maine scenery is nice, I suppose. And if you’re playing a drinking game based on King references, you’ll be plastered faster than Carrie at prom.
“You Can’t Kill Stephen King” proves that while you indeed can’t kill the horror master, you can certainly butcher his legacy. This movie is an insult to King, to Maine, and to anyone with more than two brain cells to rub together. It’s the kind of film that makes you wish for a real-life Misery-style ankle-breaking, just to escape the theater.
Save yourself the agony and just re-read “The Stand” instead. Or better yet, go whack yourself with a copy of “It” – it’ll be less painful and probably more entertaining than this dreck. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go cleanse my palate with some Lovecraft. At least his horrors are supposed to drive you insane.
Notes:
Budget
$ unknown
Gross worldwide
Straight to DVD
Runtime: 1 hour 26 minutes
Critics Consensus:
Critics NA Audience 15% Rotten Tomatoes
Trailer:
