I like rules in science fiction. Any kid knows Dracula shouldn’t walk around in the daytime without slathering on a gallon of SPF 100. When Isaac Asimov invented The Three Laws of Robotics, it didn’t restrict his work, but created a rich and believable universe for his stories. You don’t feed a mogwai after midnight, you never cross the streams, and you should always be careful what you wish for.

The problem with ghosts is they have no rules. Silver bullets don’t work. You can’t hammer a stake into their hearts. They don’t have a brain to destroy. In the 1999 remake of The Haunting, ghosts could do anything or nothing at all, depending on what was convenient to the plot. Some of the same problems are present in The Frighteners, in which ghosts fall through walls when they try to lean on them, but they can walk around on floors and ride in cars.

Michael J. Fox plays Frank, a former architect who got into a car crash which killed his wife. Somehow the near death experience gave him the ability to see ghosts. Now considered a crackpot in his community, his only friends are ghosts who haunt houses so that Frank can make a buck as a conman exorcist. One day Frank notices a spectral “37” written on the forehead of a man who later turns up dead; it turns out something otherworldly is killing people and only Frank can see who’s next.

I disliked The Frighteners when I originally saw it, probably because I was an edgy teenager who cherished director Peter Jackson’s ultra-gory Bad Taste and Dead-Alive. I decided to give it a second chance today. Though my opinion has definitely softened, it still doesn’t hold a candle to those aforementioned films. During my most recent viewing, I was even invested until the tiresome climax, which seems to drag on for far too long.

Touted as a horror-comedy, the humor feels like an afterthought. Someone with money on the line probably thought it was too dark and hired a script doctor to “make it funnier.” As a comedy it doesn’t work for me. Having an elderly ghost screw a mummy is a dumb joke, far beneath the talent who made Heavenly Creatures. It’s especially confusing that Frank’s maniacal driving is a running gag, when his driving his what killed his wife in the first place.

I’m a big fan of Jeffery Combs, but here he channels Jim Carrey just a little too much as he rips off Major Toht from Raiders of the Lost Ark. In that movie, there’s a wonderful gag in which you think Toht’s about to torture Marion with a mysterious device that turns out to be nothing more than a collapsible coat hanger. In this movie, Combs reaches into his jacket and, instead of the expected gun, he draws an inflatable donut. Hilarious.

So no, The Frighteners doesn’t work as a comedy. It barely works as a horror film, but it looks amazing. If you’re not watching it on a modern display, you’re missing out. The best shots are contained in the opening reel, but there are breathtaking views peppered throughout. Then there are the special effects, which must have been a logistical nightmare for the filmmakers, but they pay off in a big way. Wikipedia says:

The visual effects were created by Jackson’s Weta Digital, which had only been in existence for three years. This, plus the fact that The Frighteners required more digital effects shots than almost any movie made up until that time, resulted in the eighteen-month period for effects work by Weta Digital being largely stressed.

Also worth noting is Trini Alvarado, who doesn’t have a whole lot to do as the leading lady, but she does it exceptionally well. She’s simply one of those people you like to watch. And Michaeal J. Fox has always been underrated for the subtle physicality he brings to any role; that this is his last major performance elevates the picture to “must-see” status. As for Jake Busey… well, what the hell can one say about Jake Busey? He’s another one of those actors who command attention. While I didn’t buy his character in the slightest, it was interesting to see him paired with a brunette Dee Wallace.

The sum is much greater than its parts and it really is worth a watch despite my numerous issues with it. Pay attention to the opening shot, which floats through a window in a very familiar manner. What does that shot remind you of? If you had HBO in the nineties, you’ll probably place it in an instant. I’m guessing it’s no mistake the first credit is Robert Zemeckis Presents.

Dreamcatcher is fascinating—I’ll give it that. It deserves some sort of praise, considering how uniquely awful it is. It’s clearly a passion project. No one phones it in and no expense is spared (the movie cost $68 million). When you take the director of The Big Chill, the writer of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and adapt the most popular novelist of the twentieth century, you don’t expect a spectacular failure, but here we are.

Four friends with psychic abilities have gathered for their annual vacation in a secluded cabin. What they don’t know is an alien spacecraft has crash landed nearby. When they come to the aid of a seriously ill man who they find wandering the woods, it’s revealed he’s the host of an alien parasite. Remember the chestburster from Alien? It’s like that, only this one is a, um… assburster. Meanwhile, a secret branch of the military, which apparently deal with these crash landings all the time, are willing to massacre civilians to keep the aliens contained. And if this all sounds a little scatterbrained, let me assure you that it is very scatterbrained.

I finished reading Stephen King’s source material the same day I re-watched the movie. While book fans usually complain about the stuff an adaptation left out, I’m boggled by what they left in. Consider the fact the novel takes around 20 hours to read. A screenwriter should think carefully about how to adapt such a thing to a two-hour format, but William Goldman’s solution involves reducing entire chapters to very brief scenes as if he’d rather water the novel down than alter it.

Director Lawrence Kasdan has admitted the film damaged his career. Directing must be a pretty stressful job as it only takes a single hiccup to jeopardize your future in the business. On top of that, you have to deal with the lame bloggers who rip your hard work apart (ahem). But these things need to be discussed—that’s just integral to the creative arts: the risk of negative criticism. People can’t truly appreciate the high wire act unless there’s a risk of the performer falling.

I’m glad they made Dreamcatcher. I don’t hate it and I’ll probably watch it again someday. It’s actually very entertaining, often for the wrong reasons, and I’ll be the first to admit there’s magic to be found, sprinkled throughout (as with big dumb disaster movies, the early scenes in which the characters have no clue what’s going on are the most compelling). Where else can you see what is essentially a big budget splatter film with aliens and body horror and shades of Stand By Me? I have nothing but praise for the crazy sons of bitches who made it.

One scene that sums up how stupid the movie is takes place in a bathroom. I don’t care how much you set it up—and the movie certainly tries—I will never believe (much less like) a character who gets himself killed so that he can pick up a toothpick from the bathroom floor and stick it in his mouth. Or how ’bout the part when a character is skiing very slowly and falls for no apparent reason? Or when Morgan Freeman’s character, Colonel Curtis, sincerely tells Tom Sizemore, “Okay, you just drove over the Curtis line!” My favorite moment is when one character telepathically answers a pistol like a phone.