Lisey's story, perhaps amazingly, is Stephen King's favorite book. Or perhaps not so amazingly - an extraordinarily prolific writer who churns out books faster than he can think about them, maybe it shouldn't be surprising that something as bland, slow and dim as this caught his attention - it's unlike most of his works which are at least competently written and often engaging, if rarely intellectually powerful.
Unfortunately, Stephen then decided it should be him to adapt it for television and he did it superbly faithfully - all the dullness, dimwittedness, plodding pace and a gallery of wooden characters have been copied to screen and suffer with us as this non-piece plops along.
No actor could save it, none did. They all stare into nothingness, grimace, point to the unknown and offer inane lines that tie nothing together. The story is so pregnant with remembrances, flashbacks, throwbacks and emotions unsuited for visual representation that there is barely any story conveyed - there was precious little to begin with.
Garbage in, garbage out.
Unfortunately, Stephen then decided it should be him to adapt it for television and he did it superbly faithfully - all the dullness, dimwittedness, plodding pace and a gallery of wooden characters have been copied to screen and suffer with us as this non-piece plops along.
No actor could save it, none did. They all stare into nothingness, grimace, point to the unknown and offer inane lines that tie nothing together. The story is so pregnant with remembrances, flashbacks, throwbacks and emotions unsuited for visual representation that there is barely any story conveyed - there was precious little to begin with.
Garbage in, garbage out.