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In this issue:Ash takes on L. Ron Hubbard in a battle of the kooks! And an interview with GLENN DANZIG! PLUS: Eeyore complains! And a famous celebrity gets pissed at us! All this and more in this, the penultimate issue of PULP!
The Dead Zone ****

David Cronenberg makes his greatest plea for commercial acceptance with this adaptation of the Stephen King novel. Christopher Walken plays an English teacher who falls into a coma for five years after a car accident. When he awakens he is blessed, or cursed, with psychic powers that let him see the future, as psychic powers tend to do. The concept of Walken as an English teacher is even funnier than it seems, since as we all know he is the result of a experiment to create a completely animatronic actor, which succeeded rather well except for his inability to speak properly and a tendency to be incredibly creepy at all times. This makes it quite amusing when he attempts to recite Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven. It’s a creepy poem, so his eerieness works for him, but the whole ‘sentence’ thing seems to have him baffled and keeps us the audience with a perpetual grin on our collective faces. Walken’s character proves his talents to the community through several demonstrations, which include saving a little girl from a fire and catching a serial killer, whom I have affectionately named Edward Scissorface due to the manner of his unfortunate demise. Cronenberg utilises unusual restraint in his direction, in that he thankfully manages to not be insane for two hours, and he comes up with one of the best King adaptations on the big screen. Those of you familiar with Cronenberg’s work know that he is primarily concerned with the merging of man with machine, with more than enough phalluses to go around, but both unholy man/machine hybrids and phallic imagery are thankfully absent from this movie, making it wholly enjoyable. And if they are any hidden penises lurking within the film, I’ll thank you not to tell me about them so I can continue to like the movie. It’s a very bleak picture, emphasised by the barren trees and perpetually overcast Maine sky, and the lilting score contributes to the depressing atmosphere. And although I feel it was justified in this case, please don’t allow me to use the word ‘lilting’ too often. I have enough trouble upholding my heterosexuality as it is, without further undermining it with words like that. Did I mention this movie has breasts? Yes a couple of nice big ones for your viewing pleasure. Yep.

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