Review of Christine

Few films mine the past in such a veiled, foreboding sense as John Carpenter's "Christine", but even if his efforts do not quite coalesce in terms of pacing and plot, the film's characterisations, zippy dialogue, slick visuals, nostalgic soundtrack (utilised to great effect during murder sequences) and vehicular stunts all thankfully aggrandise the proceedings, thus saving it from becoming a generic adaptation of a lesser Stephen King novel. It may not be as effective in totality as it is in fragments, but even Carpenter's weakest fare retains entertainment value, and this is no exception; not succeeding as a singular work exalts it as a classic in the 1980s horror canon by virtue of its daringly implausible premise. Owing to Carpenter's deft ability to imbue seemingly incredible stories with sheer escapism, panache and fun, it is entirely conceivable that a browbeaten, bullied 17-year-old nerd is freed and transformed by his inexplicable predilection towards and obsessional love of a malevolent Plymouth Fury with a maniacal mind of its own that drives autonomously (usually with intent to kill) miraculously self-repairs and plays endless rock'n'roll tunes at will. Despite its inherent flaws, the film is one of a kind thanks to its poignant finale, technical merits and ludicrous story basis, and therefore deserves to be deemed essential for fans of the genre, even if it isn't top tier Carpenter or King.