Just when you say, "I’ve seen the worst movie ever made," and I respond, "No, I’ve seen the worst movie ever made," the garbage truck rolls around again, dumps off a horror called Dreamcatcher and makes liars of us all. One of the most pathetic things I witness in this job is so-called movie critics who knock themselves unconscious trying to analyze incoherent babble (even when they clearly despise it) just because it’s written or directed (usually both) by people with inflated reputations. These jerks always land in quote ads, and as sure as there’s Christmas and taxes, you can bet some deluded ticket-buyer will shell out good money just to see how "fantastic" or "beyond belief" it really is. Like a two-headed donkey, Dreamcatcher is that kind of freak show. Among the people I write for, I can’t think of anyone self-loathing enough to sit through this lumbering piece of imbecilic swill. It’s my job to tell you about these things, and sometimes this job, as the kids these days and all of the characters on TV sitcoms are so fond of saying, really sucks the big one.
. . .
The reasons I didn’t bail after 10 minutes are simple: It’s based on a book by Stephen King, it was written by William Goldman and Lawrence Kasdan, and it was directed by Mr. Kasdan. All three of these guys have turned out their share of trash, but despite their bloated reputations, they have also been responsible for enough serious film work to pay attention. So I approached with a bit of respect and a great deal of cautious curiosity. The beating I got in return was not deserved. Only a 12-year-old on crack could tell you what this rotten movie is about. All I can do is tell you what I saw. . . .
The horror, the horror.