If Carrie is a story about the horrors of adolescence, Misery is a story of the horrors of middle age.

When romance author Paul Sheldon is in a terrible car accident, his life is forever changed by an act of (bad) fortune as Annie Wilkes pulls him from the vehicle.  A former nurse, Annie sets Paul’s broken bones, medicates his pain, and shelters him in her own home, claiming that the phone lines are down and she couldn’t get him to a hospital.  Soon Paul realizes that Annie, his #1 fan, is much more than he bargained for – she keeps him locked in his room, heavily medicated, and prohibits him from contacting anyone to let them know he’s alive.  Annie forces Paul to rewrite his last novel, which was not to her liking, and as she fetches supplies he explores her home, learning about her treacherous history as a nurse and searching for an escape.  Paul must constantly be on the lookout for any opportunity to escape, and tread carefully so as not to tip off (or set off) Annie.

The film reverses the roles of typical hostage films, plays with the caretaker role women are so often expected to fulfill, and gives us a deeper glance at Stephen King’s Freudian complex with mothers. 

Annie is a new type of psycho killer – she’s a loving, motherly, sweet nurse at first glance, ever the caretaker, always looking to make Paul more comfortable in any way she can.  Annie truly does love Paul, and wishes for nothing more than to keep him all to herself.  She is Paul’s savior, pulling him from his wrecked car in the blizzard and resuscitating him with CPR, and initially seems to help Paul towards recovery.  When it becomes clear that Paul’s health will mean his escape, Annie begins to sabotage him, over medicating him and eventually (in that infamous scene) breaking his ankles.  Annie is part spurned lover, part overbearing mother, refusing to let her patient heal and move on with his life.

Once again, Stephen King’s overbearing caretaker role is full force.  Like Mrs. White, Annie is a very conservative individual – she abhors vulgarity, using cutesy phrases like “cock-a-doody” and “oogie” rather than profanities and scolding anyone who does otherwise.  She will do anything to keep Paul in her home, sheltered from the rest of the world, just as Mrs. White does with Carrie.  When she doesn’t get her way, or her charge doesn’t comply with her desires, she becomes violent, using tortuous and physical punishments to bring Paul into line (again, like Mrs. White and Carrie).  Although it the line between romantic and maternal love for Paul is unclear at times, Annie’s obsessive protection of Paul (paired with Mrs. White’s obsessive protection of Carrie) makes me wonder how Stephen King really views the roles of women, particularly in a caretaking context.  Perhaps this is what makes these films so frightening – they take an “ideal” female trait to a disturbing extreme.

Although she is clearly insane, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Annie’s desperation, loneliness, and fantasy of a fairy tale ending of her own.  Annie lives vicariously through Misery, needing Misery’s story to continue: grieving her losses, reveling in her romance, and fearing her ultimate demise.  Clearly in watching the film the viewer pulls for Paul’s escape, willing Annie to set him free, but in the climactic wrestling match at the end it still feels uncomfortable to watch Kathy Bates beaten by James Caan, even if she did smash his ankles with a sledgehammer. 

Maybe Misery is like Carrie as well in its ultimate tragedy.  Both Paul and Annie are helpless – Paul is physically incapacitated and unable to escape and Annie is unable to develop any meaningful, true relationships.  Her desire to be needed is so great that she drives her patients into hatred.  Okay, so maybe Paul has it a little worse, but each of these characters has something the other needs: Annie holds Paul’s freedom, but Paul holds his stories, the only thing that bring Annie’s life meaning.  If nothing else, Misery is a different kind of horror film, and I suspect that there are more themes lying beneath the surface of this one.

Plus Kathy Bates rules.