The Mist (dir. Frank Darabont, 2007).
As Jane points out, The Mist is pretty confused in its foggy gropings toward allegory. That may be part of what makes it as interesting as it is: its B-movie banalities are constantly crashing into the plate glass window of its political unconscious, sending large sacks of semiotic dog food spraying in all directions. I mentioned in my notes on No Country for Old Men that I appreciated its ability to ward off any ideological analysis until some time after the viewing experience has ended. In The Mist, the opposite is the case: the cinematic experience must be reconstructed after the barrage of symptomology has subsided. This too makes for an interesting, if somewhat emotionally draining, time at the movies. It is very hard not to come away from the final scene, however, without feeling that the filmmakers have unintentionally (I hope) directed all the movie's signifying energies toward one stentorian subliminal message: Don't ever lose faith in your government, or you'll be really fucking sorry.
Labels: Frank Darabont