Misery (1990)

After watching Misery, I’ve decided to indefinitely postpone working on that bestselling novel. It’s just too risky. Popularity may get you fame and fortune, but it will also get you fans. Beyond the social awkwardness of being recognized by complete strangers and the strange fan mail and phone calls you’ll get, there’s also the problem of the diehard fans, the fans so fervent in their love and devotion that you can’t help but find them a bit creepy.

Fictional novelist Paul Sheldon (James Caan) gets a chance to meet one such fan after his car crashes in a snowstorm and he breaks both legs. He’s nursed back to health by Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates), a woman who runs a little farm by herself and professes to be his number one fan. It’s not far from the truth as she goes on in detail about Misery, the protagonist of Sheldon’s long running series of romance bestsellers. But obsession turns into something more when Sheldon lets Wilkes read the latest and final Misery novel.

Kathy Bates is the heart, soul and terror of this film. Her range as a doting fan, a loving nurse and an obsessive control freak bring an unparalleled texture to the Wilkes character that could only be conveyed through a fantastic performer. The way she says a line or positions herself says more about her than any of the dialogue. From the passive-aggressive patronizing to the spurts of indignant anger, Bates crafts a suburb portrait of the ultimate fan that no writer wants to have or, at least, have around them.

In fact, she’s so domineering that it’s easy to lose sight of James Cann’s contribution. His deadpan, nervous energy perfectly complements Bates. His sarcastic tongue and world-weary mood capture a writer tired of his work. He’s prepared to move on to other things but the publishers want more cash. He thinks he’s found a way out, but it’s not likely to happen if Annie has anything to say about it.

Steven King has proven himself time and time again as a masterful storyteller and Misery is yet another example of how he does a fantastic job of delving into the uncanny and abject. From the first time we meet Annie, everything is just a bit off. There are flashes of it here and there, moments where we get glimpse of that beneath, but King lets the suspense build, draws out the story and lingers on the mood and tension of the material.

Where the storytelling falls apart is in the tacked on subplot of the local sheriff, Buster (Richard Farnsworth), who’s looking for the lost novelist. This story undermines a lot of the mood and tension of the Annie/Paul story because it breaks that sense of claustrophobia and isolation. Perhaps in the novel this section has a reason to be included, but in the film it’s a nuisance that breaks up the great moments of the film.

However, even then there’s this build to an inevitable moment as the threat of impending violence escalates. On the front end, it’s easy to think this might be a kind of thriller, but by the end it’s clear that this is some intense horror.  It’s not as gory or graphic as it could be, but the events in the latter act are disturbing. Much like Steven King’s Carrie, the horror is delayed as King seems more interested in understanding the nature of horror.

And for Misery, the horror is blind idolatry. In a corner of her house Annie has constructed a shrine to Misery, a collection of books and a signed photography of the author. There are more violent horrors outside of this, but it’s all rooted in this deep, unhealthy obsession with fiction, getting so lost in a world that doesn’t exist and violently reacting when someone tries to draw you out of this world. Fanatical fandom will always be disturbing, whether it’s the Twihards, Trekkies or any other obsessive fan base. Misery is a cautionary tale on the horrors of obsession, a cautionary tale that clearly hasn’t be taken to heart by the culture at large.

© 2010 James Blake Ewing

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