Stephen King’s “Dreamcatcher” was a crazy and half-baked book with some interesting elements, so it’s no surprise the film adaptation is less than coherent. A group of childhood friends stumble on a kid being bullied, and in rescuing him they form a lifelong bond with this strangely otherworldly child with Down syndrome who bestows gifts of prescience and telepathy on them. Putting aside the sense that King was re-using a central “childhood friends facing issues in adult life” motif of stories like “It” and “The Body,” the “Dreamcatcher” framework becomes problematic and bloated when you mix that motif with parasite alien invaders from outer space landing in frozen winter Maine. Although King’s aliens do have some unique and new elements, there is much here that seems borrowed – they have certain Grey-like attributes, albeit implied telegraphic projections from humans based on what those humans are expecting to see in aliens; the Ridley Scott chest-burster concept shows up here, although more of an ass-burster than chest-burster.
To drag the film down further, Morgan Freeman makes a ridiculous insane alien-hunting shadow military colonel.
The end of the film deteriorates into a bad episode of the A-team from the 80s, then culminates in a pathetic alien-et-alien confrontation.
Just no, on this one. But of course I watched it all the way through, because that’s what I do.