Incoherence

           I remember a hard crash at Auto Club Speedway in 2002. In this collision, he suffered his first concussion, which he hid until after the season. The after effects of the injury caused a mid-season nosedive in performance, and led to a disappointing 11th place points finish after a breakout 2001. It would not be the last time concussions derailed something promising.

           I remember an ill-conceived crew swap in 2005. Earnhardt was coming off of his best career season, both at the time and in retrospect. But the team lacked speed in their mile-and-a-half program, and everyone knew this would keep them from reaching championship heights, so swapping Earnhardt’s team with teammate Michael Waltrip’s was a popular decision. Earnhardt’s new crew chief would last a handful of races, when instead of performance improving that last little bit, they took a nosedive. He would miss the playoffs instead.

           I remember a 2-year winless streak that saw everything come crumbling down. A public contract negotiation go haywire when one person refused to play ball. Once Earnhardt was a free agent, his equipment suddenly became unreliable, suffering 10 engine failures in 36 races. I remember a promising start to 2008: a new team, and new hope. It took a lucky fuel mileage gamble to end the streak. I remember celebrating with an eye on the next win. I remember it taking 4 years.

           I remember doing a racing podcast with a friend, where he would gleefully ask me every week why Dale wasn’t running well. I remember the crew chief roulette firing up again, and a crew chief with a mediocre history calling the shots for Dale. I remember attending a race at Darlington in 2010 and listening to their radio the entire race, hearing Dale and his crew chief snark and snap at each other all night. I remember the complete lack of chemistry as they ran 17th all night.

           I remember 2011, and another new crew chief: Steve Letarte. I remember the hope he gave. I remember him continuing to work around the car’s mediocre speed, putting Dale in position to break the streak. I remember Martinsville that April, watching him give up the lead to Kevin Harvick five laps from the end. I remember him leading on the last lap a month later in the Coca-Cola 600, and running out of fuel in turn 4 and finishing 7th. I remember the pain in my right foot from kicking a nearby loveseat.

           I remember 2012, a great season cut short by Dale’s second concussion. He missed two races this time, and lost a shot at the championship. I remember 2013, another winless season. I remember 2014, and a flat right front tire at Kansas, eliminating him from the playoffs. I remember 2015, where a late race caution cost him the win and the transfer spot into the next round of the playoffs. I remember 2016, where an average looking wreck at Michigan put him out of the car the rest of the season. I remember swallowing the indignity of having to watch my most hated driver step into Dale’s car for a few races.

           I remember 2017, a year without speed. I remember not once believing he could win. I remember watching his final race at Daytona, briefly believing he had some of that old magic before Harvick spun in front of him and ended his night.

           But that’s not all I remember.

           I remember 2005, the race at Chicagoland Speedway where Dale Earnhardt Jr. turned a top-ten run into a “how the fuck did that happen” victory four days before my birthday.

           I remember the 2008 Budweiser Shootout, an exhibition race and Dale’s first in the 88 car. I remember him pulling ahead on a late-race restart, and winning for the first time in a year and a half.

           I remember the 2004 and 2014 Daytona 500’s. I remember a late race pass on Tony Stewart in 2004, and a blocking masterclass in 2014. I remember watching the 2014 race with my friend (and noted Dale hater) Kyle, and watching him shake his head in disgust as I cackled.

           I remember a Richmond race in May 2004, my first Cup race since becoming a fan, and watching Dale pass future seven-time champion Jimmie Johnson on the outside on a re-start to take the lead. I remember being present at one of Dale’s 26 career wins.

           I remember ordering my first #8 die-cast on July 7th 2001, then watching Dale win the first race at Daytona after his father’s death.

           And yes, I remember Michigan in 2012. I remember believing for the first time in years. I remember nervously smoking cigarettes watching the race in my basement even though it was June and nice outside, hung over and refusing to get excited as he stretched his lead. I remember no hooting, and no hollering. I remember relief I’ve rarely felt in my life before or since when he took that checkered flag, ending the 4-year drought.

           Being a fan these past sixteen years has led to a lot of heartbreak. But I loved every second of it. And you don’t love it if it can’t hurt you. Enjoy your retirement, Dale.

               I’ve never read any of the books. I’ve intended to start multiple times, but tend to trail off a few short chapters into THE GUNSLINGER. I enjoyed what I read just fine. I’m bad at reading.

               I’ve been interested in a film (preferably film series) based off of the books due to my father’s enjoyment of them. I have a vague memory of my father excitedly telling me about how the final book in the series ended, and how much he enjoyed it. He said he didn’t think King would finish the series. I’ve followed the ups and downs of the film’s development for a long time, acting as a set of eyes for my father. I might possibly be protective of the books but my dad has already seen the film and enjoyed it greatly. But me?

               Gravely disappointed.

               It’s not a book, adaptation thing. I’m generally very, very, very forgiving of adaptation changes[1]. Everybody knows you can’t translate books too literally. Sometimes it’s a characterization thing (can’t include first person thoughts). Sometimes it’s a time thing (800 pages of plot is simply too winding and expansive for a 2, at most 3 hour film). But you can’t. And since I haven’t read the books, and know next to nothing about them, it’s hard to quibble in that regard.

               Nope, my problems are all in execution.

               Let’s start with The Man in Black. First, his name is Walter apparently. Oh, okay. I guess. Wait hold on you’ve got a character that in the pre-release has only been referred to as The Man in Black, who comes off as other-worldly and unknowable and his name is Walter? I went into this thinking this dude was like, Cthulu in a human suit, when really he’s just a spazzy sadist.

               The character should be mysterious, in my completely irrelevant opinion. When he casts spells, he should never, ever use his hands. When he talks, which should be rare, he should speak without contractions, stilted yet powerful, distant yet immense. Watch The Gunslinger, firing all kinds of round in ingenious ways, and have them all just stop in front of a motionless Man in Black. Not waved away by Walter.

               And the fuck is up with his, uh, laboratory house? How fucking lame is it that he’s essentially an office manager? He’s not some crazy, ethereal force, apparently. I kept waiting for him to tell Marty from THE CABIN IN THE WOODS[2] that he was gonna need him to come in on Saturday’s to file some TPS reports. It’s not necessarily McConaughey’s fault. These are script/story/direction issues, though McConaughey’s performance is uneven in the film.

               Now, how about The Gunslinger himself, Roland. Idris Elba comes out far less scathed. His performance is small and stoic, and feels right for the film and story, and for the character’s backstory. It’s just…man watching him shoot bored me to tears. It should’ve been the coolest fucking thing. This dude isn’t just a gunman, he’s THE GUNSLINGER. The guy. His skills are unmatched with a six shooter, which is derived from being a relative of King Arthur[3], which is silly as fuck but in an awesome way. Shit, The Man in Black (I am not calling him Walter) even outright states the guns are made from Excalibur. That’s dope as fuck.

               Then Roland pulls them out and, like, it just kinda sucks. There’s a moment about halfway through that was used in the trailers. Jake, the young boy who’s the actual protagonist of the film, is snatched by some guy, and our dude scampers off. Roland demands quiet, listens, and the sound gives us a drop of blood, clanging of metal, wind ripping through a sheet to show how Roland is using the sounds around him to track down and fire at Jake’s captor. Then Roland hangs his head, eyes closed, and lifts his left hand to the left, and just…fires a straight shot that nails the captor in the head. The moment, and the whole sequence leading up to it, exists to showcase Roland’s exceptional skills. Unfortunately it’s actually 2 minutes of Idris Elba firing wildly at things that continually surprise me.

               It’s not totally the filmmakers fault. Two years ago, this probably would’ve thrilled me a lot more. I can explain why it doesn’t in two words: JOHN WICK. In those two films, Keanu Reeves plays a stoic gunman with a fearsome reputation who takes down wave after wave of enemies through his exceptional firing skills. Remind you of someone? Only compare the first scene of John Wick taking down a group of assassins sent to his house[4] to the first scene of Roland in action[5] for the difference. Wick is crisp, intelligent, thought out and quick, while Roland flails and sways. His aim is true, but man.

               This is far from why the film doesn’t work. For an adaptation of a 7 book series[6], the story feels so damn slight yet rushed. Jake meets Roland at minute 25, and they’re besties by minute 50, and Roland is mounting a rescue at minute 75. Jake’s parents are one-note and are offed without us getting any attachment to grieve this moment.

               I hope it’s not over, though. I’m almost always for people taking another shot, and potentially learning lessons from a failure, especially with Elba as the lead. Though if they ever try again, maybe they should just get Keanu Reeves and the crew of JOHN WICK.