Dreamcatcher (2003) benefits from the word “retarded” being reintroduced into the modern lexicon. It’s the most fitting description of this movie.
Only one filmmaker from a specific era could make something special out of this narrative mess that spilled from Stephen King’s drug-addled brain and likely caused an embolism in no less than three editors before they finally pieced together a story that could be considered partially coherent to a person with a class seven neurodivergent disorder.
That filmmaker is Tobe Hooper, circa 1985, with a budget roughly three times larger than something even Steven Spielberg would be trusted with. Only that Tobe Hooper could find the kernel of lunacy that lies at the center of Dreamcatcher and nurture it into something as bat-guano insane as Lifeforce. Because that is the film that came to mind as I forced myself through a second viewing of Dreamcatcher — after it caused part of my frontal lobe to detach itself from the rest of my brain, throw a rope out of my ear and escape into the night with a portion of its rationale still intact in the dim dead days of 2003.
“Oh wow,” I realized. “Dreamcatcher is Lifeforce if the people who made it believed they were making something meaningful and important instead of lurid crap with a naked lady.”
Dreamcatcher
The person responsible for Dreamcatcher, the movie, is Lawrence Kasdan: the guy who wrote The Empire Strikes Back and Raiders of the Lost Ark; the guy who wrote and directed Body Heat, The Big Chill and Silverado.
Meanwhile, William Goldman, the screenwriter of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Princess Bride, also pitched in.
The Dreamcatcher cast includes Morgan Freeman, Thomas Jane, Jason Lee, Damian Lewis, Timothy Olyphant, Tom Sizemore and Donnie Wahlberg.
That kind of roster should deliver a film that is automatically three stars simply by existing. And even if someone you trust warns you that is not the case, it’s still difficult to believe. It’s like Johnny Depp saying…
“Hey, Friend, I heard you have a date with Amber Heard this weekend. I know it’s none of my business, but there’s something you should know…”
You hear Depp’s matter-of-fact, weary (and perhaps, haunted) warning, and you look at a picture of Amber and think…naw, Johnny Depp be tripping.
But Johnny Depp is, in fact, not tripping, and he has the receipts — I mean sheets — to prove it. But by then it is too late. Your own inner sanctum has been soiled upon…
Dream Weaver Catcher
Describing the plot of Dreamcatcher is like trying to describe a square circle while patting your head and rubbing your stomach and attempting to eat a live octopus. Meanwhile, Weird Al Jankovic rides circles around you on a unicycle and repeats, “The owls are not what they seem.”
There’s these four men, see, who were friends as boys. One day these boys rescue a differently-abled boy from bullies, who try to force him to eat a dog turd. The differently-abled boy’s condition causes him to say things like “Ooby Ooby Doo” and “Mr. Gay” instead of “Scooby Scooby Doo” and “Mr. Gray.” He also likes to thrust his arms above his head and declare, “I, Duddits!”
Honestly, after a few minutes of this you want to force him to eat a dog turd yourself…
The four boys bond with Duddits by singing Blue Bayou to him. Then Duddits helps them find a missing girl and gives them telepathic powers.
Makes total sense when you think about it…
Dream On Catcher
Flash forward to the present. The four men take a trip to a remote cabin. An alien ship crashes nearby. The aliens infect people with a red rash and toothy eels that burst from their buttocks in a bloody eruption of easy Taco Bell jokes.
Narratively, you’d think the whole butt-explosion-thing would be enough of a threat. Yet, the movie can’t decide if a butt explosion is worse than getting a red rash or not.
I’m not confused, however. I’d pick the red rash over having a chestburster get lost in my midsection and come out of my bottom exit instead. Especially since Dreamcatcher makes a point to mention half the people who contract the red rash get over it.
Moving on…a toothy eel exits a hiker’s butt and kills one of our heroes because he decided he needed a toothpick more than he needed to make sure a toothy eel that exited a hiker’s butt did not kill him.
Again, this is not a difficult dilemma for me. I’d skip the toothpick.
Then a giant slug alien possesses the body of another one of our heroes. Yet, all is not lost. Our hero has a warehouse in his brain and hides in its office, so the giant slug alien can’t possess all his brain.
As for your brain, it is probably starting to hurt right about now. You may want to stop reading. If you continue, please consider donating your gray matter to CTE research.
We’re The Dream Warriors Catcher
The alien-possessed man hops on a snowmobile and picks up another one of our heroes, who had his groin bitten by another toothy eel that emerged from a different hiker’s butt. The alien-possessed man needs to do this because the man he picked up can twirl his finger and reveal a path to the nearest highway.
Soon, the man with the ability to summon quest markers with his finger is no longer needed, so he gets chomped, dead.
Meanwhile, a crazy general tries to quarantine the alien crash site, so the world does not get infected with a red rash or have their buttocks rotor-rooted by toothy eels. Again, the movie seems to be unclear which fate is worse. The general is portrayed as crazy for wanting to do this. As for me, I want to give him a medal and a presidential cabinet. It sounds like he is doing great work.
Nevertheless, the last remaining member of our hero quartet convinces the crazy general’s second-in-command to go AWOL. The second-in-command does this despite the fact the crazy general gave him a pistol that belonged to John Wayne as a gift.
A John Wayne-owned pistol gift would inspire a lot of loyalty from me. I wouldn’t go AWOL on a boss like that. I would fully support his quest to prevent people from getting their bums reamed out by toothy eels with every fiber of my being.
Sweet Dreamcatchers Are Made of These
Remember that differently-abled boy from the beginning that you wanted to make eat dog turds? Now he is grown up and somehow even more annoying.
Donnie Walhberg plays the grown-up version. Honestly, what they did to my boy here is killing me. This is the guy that rocked Hanging Tough with the New Kids on the Block. And they turned him into a character that is something like leprosy crossed with Kathy Griffen.
Okay, sorry. That was too far. That’s unfair to leprosy…
Anyway, the last surviving member of our quartet and the second-in-command guy enlist the aid of differently-abled adult boy to telepathically track the alien-possessed man.
Why?
Because the alien-possessed man made a dog eat a whole bunch of that red rash (I guess it’s a fungus), so he can throw the dog in Boston’s water supply at a very specific pump station. As for why the alien-possessed man can’t just throw the dog in the Quabbin Reservoir, which offers 38 square miles of access, that is not explained…
I’m not sure we want it explained at this point anyway. It’s like a person asking a question at the end of a meeting. Everyone just wants out. Let’s get out of this movie and skip straight to the end.
Differently-abled adult is also an alien, and he stabs the bad alien with his tail. They merge into a clump of matter that disintegrates. The alien-possessed man is himself again (hooray!), and he smiles at the other surviving member of their quartet. They don’t kiss, but you kind of get the feeling they might have after the camera cut.
What happened to the general?
I told you! Don’t ask questions and drag this meeting on!
Fine. Whatever. The general tried shooting the second-in-command guy with a gatling gun mounted on a helicopter, but second-in-command guy shot the helicopter down with the John Wayne gun before dying.
Tragic irony or poetic justice? I’m going with “retarded…”
Dreamcatcher
Dreamcatcher is the book Stephen King wrote after his accident in 1999 when he got hit by a van. He blamed the resulting mess on the Oxycontin. It’s hard to put a lot of stock in that since King was on drugs during his most productive years.
The main problem with the movie is how seriously it takes itself. The entire story is ludicrous. Yet, all those involved deliver it with an earnestness that ends up delusional. It seems like they genuinely believe they will touch hearts and have people on the edge of their seats while simultaneously terrifying them with moray-eel enemas.
No, no and no.
This movie needed someone like 1985 Tobe Hooper up in the camera rig, on the verge of falling off and landing on his noggin, squeezing an open bottle of vodka between his legs and singing La Cucaracha with a wadded-up Kleenex sticking out of his nose.
That guy would have delivered the craptacular film this material deserved!
