The slow pace gives us too much time to think about the story's lapses in logic. And Verbinski's style is so conventional that the various scare devices and horror images he throws on the screen feel oddly more comforting than frightening.
The filmmakers have wisely stayed close to the original's mood, which is somber and flat, with quick (near-subliminal) inserts and a soundtrack full of watery-grave groans and murmurs.
I hated it, but I grant that it does tap into a vein of technological horror -- the fear of the VCR! -- that will have young videophiles chatting it up for weeks.
The Ring doesn't have the wiliness or conviction to exploit either a single mother's guilt over child neglect or our collective queasiness over potential bad seeds. It merely alternates these themes and toys with them.
The Ring, about a videotape that kills people, is so full of inconsistencies and plot holes that I stumbled from a recent screening with few answers, and a ton of questions.
Gore Verbinski creates an air of dread that begins with the first scene and never lets up, subtly incorporating elements from the current wave of Japanese horror films along the way.
