Is ‘Thinner’ Any Good?

(By Moviegoods.com, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21786900)

I read the Stephen King novella awhile back and remember it being an effective, terse little thriller. King is a classic “over-writer,” often making up for a thin story concept with an encyclopedic catalogue of characters and their backstories, quirks, and then webbing them up in a messy convoluted plot like a cracked out Spider-Man.

Not so with Thinner, thank goodness. That book got right to the point. As if some invisible editor demanded King put his own writing on a diet, and passive-aggressively the Maine horror scribe banged this out in retaliation.

What about the movie, though?

It’s darkly hilarious. Other than that, it’s a mixed bag. King content was all the rage in the ’90s. Every producer in the world wanted to slap out a film adaptation, no matter what the budget or quality. There was the flood of TV movies like The Langoliers, Tommyknockers, The Stand, and IT.

Quick review of The Langoliers, which I also watched recently–actually not as bad as I’d thought it’d be, but that’s not saying much. It’s beyond dated, and not just in terms of it’s CGI effects. It’s also a bit padded out, like it should have been under two hours instead of three or whatever. Not really worth watching anymore, honestly, unless you are some kind of King completionist. I watched it out of curiosity as I’d only ever seen glimpses of the awful special effects (even for the time) for the Langoliers.

Back to Thinner, this tiny little nearly-forgotten almost-gem of a flick from 1996.

Thinner tells the story of fatass scumbag attorney Billy Halleck, who accidentally plows into an old gypsy lady while his wife is giving him road head, and then, after using his courtroom connections to escape consequences, suffers the wrath of the woman’s father, some kind of super gypsy, named Tadzu, who curses him to the ultimate pre-Ozempic weight loss program. Getting thinner by the day until he completely wastes away. Also getting the gypsy curse treatment are the judge, who becomes a lizard creature, or something, and a police officer who helps cover up Billy’s culpability, who becomes a boil-covered mess.

Gypsy curse films are a sub-sub-niche unto themselves. Like, there may only be a handful. Drag Me to Hell, Sam Raimi’s 2009 horror about a bank manager who gets cursed to eternal damnation when she doesn’t extend some poor old gypsy lady’s mortgage, is one of the others. Actually, that’s the only other one I can think of.

True to King’s style, the story progresses in all sorts of absurd macabre ways as Billy attempts to undo the curse, leading to an escalading series of confrontations with the gypsy chief and his itinerant tribe. At about the midpoint, likely sensing that he was almost running out of story, King reintroduces the mafia don (seen earlier when Billy gets him off on murder charges), who decides to go on a one-man crusade against the gypsies to try to force the old man to take back the curse. The lawyer’s wife also starts cheating on him for some reason, inviting Billy’s wrath. It all comes together in a sick, sad, and twisted final ending that, let’s just say, leaves almost everyone getting their just desserts. Except poor Billy’s teenaged daughter, though.

I like these dark minimalist “morality thrillers” that stick right to the point. Not just watching, either. They are the kind of things I enjoy writing the most. I’ve also tried my hand at a curse story, too. Only it centered on a witch who curses a drunk driver who hits her daughter by making everything he tries to drink turn to blood until he completes a special 12-Step Program she devises. It turned out a bit whackier than it should have, though Thinner was a big inspiration for it.

Thinner is an almost-cult classic. Just not quite there. The film is unfortunately rather shoddy in places. Which is okay in some instances. Sleepaway Camp wasn’t the most photogenic, but its clever conceit overcomes it. With a bit less daftness, Thinner might have emerged like one of John Carpenter’s lesser films. Like Prince of Darkness. Likable enough, warts and all. But it just doesn’t quite come together. Then there’s the contemptible main character. No one is really likable at all in this film. So it’s no surprise it slipped off the radar when it dropped in the mid-90s.

Despite its flaws and flagrant simplicity, I still liked it. It has some “memeable moments.” Moments that stand out due to shock or outrageousness. And I’ll never not think of the gypsy chief’s recurring address of the lawyer as “White man from town.” The book is a fun read. I just wish the movie clicked along in the same way.

Charley Varrick (1973)

(By http://www.listology.com/content_show.cfm/content_id.21307/Movies, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2772929)

At least now I know where Tarantino borrowed (or stole) that famous line from in Pulp Fiction.

“I’m gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hitting niggas to go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch.”

Such a cold ass line from L.A. mob boss Marsellus Wallace. But it originally comes from the the 1973 crime thriller Charley Varrick starring Walter Matthau, based on the book The Looters by John H. Reese.

“They’ll strip you naked and go to work on you with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch.”

Like they say, “good artists copy, great artists steal.”

Varrick is a largely forgotten crime flick about a New Mexico crop duster (named Charley Varrick) who stages a daring bank robbery, only to discover he’s stolen mob money. Lots of it. About $750,000, or over $5 million in today’s dollars. Needless to say, this attracts the attention of a mob hitman, who looks like Anton Chigurh’s older white cousin.

The famous line is said by the bank owner, who is fretting about how because his local bank got hit it makes him look like the one who planned an inside job. The mob doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a fun, twisty film with a creative set piece pitting a crop duster plane against a car. It reminded me a lot of No Country for Old Men. You’ve got the stolen mob money. An unstoppable hitman sent to retrieve it. A trailer park. Set in the dusty southwest. And plenty of that dry, cynical wit you expect from the genre. I also see some of the DNA that later settled in Breaking Bad. Come to think of it, Charley Varrick might be the first movie I’ve ever seen set in Albuquerque. Such an overlooked area. Most movies/TV shows pick either Texas or Cali. Almost never in-between.

Charley Varrick also features the prolific John Vernon as the troubled bank manager fretting about mob retaliation. An actor who looks like if the ’70s were a person.

Will James Patterson Be Remembered in 50 Years?

Or will his ghost writer cartel keep his name on the bestsellers lists until the sun explodes?

“James Patterson.” Made by the author with MidJourney.

If you’ve somehow never heard of prolific best-selling author James Patterson, head on down to your local library and just look for the Patterson Section. It’ll usually be its own wing, maybe a garage, or even a seperate building altogether.

My local library used to be a video store, and they actually keep all of Patterson’s books back in what was once the adult video section. Complete with privacy curtain and sticky carpet. I always forget when I visit in my trench coat and sunglasses that this is no longer the place where I can rent my well-used copy of Spirit of Seventy Sex, but instead a respectable section offering cheap and sometimes titillating disposable literary entertainment. Certainly not porn.

‘Spirit of Seventy Sex.’ A ’70s classic. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_of_Seventy_Sex

In the Patterson Section you’ll find sophisticated, thought-provoking titles. Titles like Cat & Mouse, Jack & Jill, Pop Goes the Weasel, Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Four Blind Mice, Mary Mary, and Rock-A-Bye Baby. Okay I made the last one up, but basically think of any nursery rhyme you can and it’s likely Patterson’s written a door-stop-sized thriller with it as the title. And that’s just in the Alex Cross series. That is Alex Cross, the cool black detective who bangs hot white women, written by Patterson, a white dude born during the Truman administration. They say to write what you know, but I guess there are exceptions.

The Alex Cross series also has numerous and very clever “cross”-themed titles. Such as Double Cross, Cross Country, I, Alex Cross, Cross Fire, Cross My Heart, Deadly Cross, and Triple Cross. Man that detective has some bad luck. He’s getting double-crossed AND triple-crossed. At least he has all those hot white women to compensate.

Source: 5 Black guys 1 blonde meme generator: https://imgflip.com/memegenerator/201802640/5-Black-guys-1-blonde

Patterson has a veritable smorgasbord of literature beyond the Alex Cross series. So much that it’s practically impossible to keep track of it all. He’s got The Women’s Murder Club, Maximum Ride, The Shadow Thrillers, NYPD Red, and a mess of standalone thrillers. His most famous work is Along Came a Spider, the 1993 bestseller made into the 2001 film starring Morgan Freeman and some lady who looks like Sharon Stone if you squint hard enough.

Along Came a Spider is actually a decent book, though it pales in comparison to what was obviously its inspiration — The Silence of the Lambs, the classic 1988 thriller by Thomas Harris. That and probably Basic Instinct (1992). I read Spider years ago when I suddenly became vexed by the question of when exactly James Patterson threw in the towel on being a real author and decided instead to become the book factory equivalent of Sysco, pumping out infantile titles with fill-in-the-blank plots and characters plucked out of ’80s soap operas. I gave up trying to find out, but I think it was somewhere between Kiss the Girls (2000) and Double Cross (2007).

James Patterson is, of course, known for more than just his obsession with killing the Amazon rainforest to print his books. He’s famous for, or perhaps infamous for, his massive cartel of co-authors and ghostwriters. Not to mention his diverse breadth of literature. The man will literally write about anything. He’s got a book he just released in March, 2023 titled Elephant Goes Potty, which “captures the struggle — and delight! — of potty training.”

Elephant Goes Potty aside, nowadays it’s rare you ever see a title on the shelves with only his name on the cover. He’s teamed up with former president Bill Clinton to write not one, but two political thrillers. The President’s Daughter and The President is Missing. Also look for The Blue Dress Caper coming this fall, though I hear the plot for that one blows.

He’s written a book called Run, Rose, Run with Dolly Parton. Not to be confused with Rose Madder, by Stephen King, or Rabbit, Run, by John Updike. or Run Lola Run, the 1998 German film about some chick with red hair.

This June Patterson’s got a book coming out called Eruption, which he co-wrote with Michael Crichton. Which is amazing considering the Jurassic Park author died in 2008. But why stop there? Why doesn’t Patterson team up with H.P. Lovecraft next? Maybe write a title like Cthulu Joins Black Lives Matter. Or maybe a self-help motivational book with Ernest Hemingway, Life is Worth Living. Or maybe a fun family adventure about siblings with George Orwell. Big Brother and I, or something. The possibilities for collabs are endless.

There’s no question James Patterson knows how to pump out content. I don’t begrudge the man for having the same fevered enthusiasm for writing as a pervert lurking outside a sorority house and whacking it in the bushes. I don’t care that the guy writes like A.I. before A.I. writing was a thing. Good for him.

I do wonder, though, that for all his output, if he’ll be remembered in 50 years in the same manner as Charles Dickens, Ernest Hemingway, or F. Scott Fitzgerald. You may chuckle at such comparisons, but Dickens was dismissed in his day for churning out simplistic melodramas. Most commerically successful authors are looked at askew by the literary etablishment. And what about contemporaries of Patterson’s like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling? Both locks, I’d say, for standing the test of time. Patterson may have built an empire out of the literary equivalent of hot air, but will anything that he’s done be worth revisiting in half a century? Will his mountain of books add up to a molehill of memory?

Patterson’s prolificacy also brings up the age old struggle many artists have over quality versus quantity. Thomas Harris has only written six novels, but he’ll always be remembered for introducing the world to Dr. Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter. Ira Levin wrote only a handful of books mainly before middle-age, but he introduced the term “The Stepford Wife,” and Rosemary’s Baby will probably always be a timeless classic. Patterson has done nothing close to that. Will anyone be thinking about Alex Cross in even ten years?

Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Patterson is reviving Crichton himself, who died over 15 years ago. Perhaps someone else will come along and “co-write” a book with Patterson in 50 years, reintroducing him to future masses. Maybe the New York Times Bestseller’s List of 2074 will bear the illustrious title of Elephant Goes Potty, Again. One can only wish.