Misery
Misery loves company, I’m talking about the sow specifically. Kathy Bates is simply incredible, better than that other film with JJ Abrams swearing.
A writer is fed up with fucking Misery, a random romantic novel he put out one day and turned into his life. He wants to have something on his tombstone that he can be proud of, so in this last book in the series the main character is killed off. Seems like he still cares for the character, she dies in childbirth, the perfect setup for a second series. He doesn’t like the book, but likes the money.
As that book is being printed and all, he writes another one, a standalone affair, a serious Great American Novel. As usual, he does it on the sticks, some Colorado mountain bungalow he rents. To commemorate The End, he smokes a single cigarette and drinks some Moët et Chandon. He then hits the road with the manuscript, back to the civilisation.
Not this time, his car careens off road and he breaks both legs and an arm. Luckily or not, his Stan/stalker sees it, and takes him home. Not to the hospital though, she is his number 1 fan! Why not keep him around?
As he recovers, the book comes out, and his number 1 fan reads it voraciously. Until she finds out she dies at the end, which freaks her out. So she makes him burn the original manuscript, and start a new Misery one, continuing the story from the last protagonist “death” that wasn’t.
He shuffles around the house, and finds out about her past as killer nurse, but all his attempts as killing or incapacitating the woman fail.
In the end, the sheriff connects the dots, gets most of his chest blown off, but the writer kills the stalker and manages to escape, writing another book. The agent prods him to sell his life’s story, but he doesn’t want to relive the most traumatic experience of his life.
Annie is pissed off by swearing, but so pissed she calls the painter of a Renaissance scene “some dago”.
The local sheriff was later gender swapped into Fargo, itself a variation on I’m just a poor country cop, hyper efficient small town accent, this time with a sassy sarcastic wife that really wants to jump into his pants.
Didn’t know Liberace sung these kind of songs, wasn’t he some kind of flamboyant power ballads dude?
This is my place for ramblings about sequences of images that exploit the human visual limitation know as persistence of vision.