“The Dreams of Youth Are The Regrets of Maturity.”

Without a movie challenge this year, I came to a startling realization a few weeks ago: I could rent whatever the hell I wanted from Netflix. There were no self-imposed deadlines I had to meet, no movies I absolutely HAD to watch. This, of course, left me wondering exactly what I wanted to watch, and I decided I was in the mood for something light, ridiculous, perhaps something that was funny even though it wasn’t actually supposed to be.

This is how I ended up watching Legend, a movie where Child of the Forest Tom Cruise wears armor without pants and has a telepathic conversation with a unicorn.

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“I Am The Eater of Worlds . . . And of Children!”

Stephen King adaptations are, historically, not awesome. For every Stand by Me or The Shawshank Redemption, there is a Needful Things — or a Dreamcatcher — or a Children of the Corn — or a Lawnmower Man — or a Maximum Overdrive — or a Tommyknockers — or, hell, even a Haven. Which, hey, could be good, for all I know — I’ve seen maybe ten minutes of it — but the show seriously stretches the meaning of  the term “based on”. Hell, the show seriously stretches the meaning of the term “loosely inspired by”. Seriously, go read The Colorado Kid at some point and then watch even a promo of Haven on Syfy. It’s ridiculous.

But I’m not here to talk about Haven. I’m here to talk about another television treasure.

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Periodically, Mekaela and I just have to pop in this DVD and rejoice in glorious mockery. As it’s a four hour miniseries, I’ll only be covering the first half now, but look for the second part of this review later in the week.

For now . . . welcome to Derry. Home of the creepiest clowns and the worst match cuts you’ll ever see on screen.

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