Some movies flop so hard you can hear the sound echo through the years. Riding the Bullet is one of those. Adapted from Stephen King’s 2000 novella, this 2004 film was directed by Mick Garris, a man who has made a career out of adapting King’s work with all the precision of a drunk surgeon. This time, he managed to turn a simple, eerie story about death and choices into a two-hour student film that looks like it was shot on expired film stock left in somebody’s trunk.
The film made a whopping $134,711 at the box office, which is roughly what Disney spends on Mickey Mouse–shaped pretzels in a week. And once you watch it, you’ll understand why even horror fans—the folks who gladly sat through Leprechaun 4: In Space—stayed away in droves.
Alan Parker: Professional Sad Sack
Our protagonist is Alan Parker (Jonathan Jackson), a University of Maine art student whose personality can best be described as “suicidal Eeyore.” The film opens with Alan moping about his girlfriend, Jessica (Erika Christensen), because nothing says “compelling horror” like relationship drama more suited to a CW soap.
Alan then climbs into a bathtub with a joint and a razor blade, which is apparently the King/Garris definition of character development. He contemplates slitting his wrists, is visited by a hallucinated Grim Reaper who looks like he borrowed his wardrobe from a Party City clearance bin, and then—oops!—cuts himself just in time for his friends to show up yelling, “Surprise!” Happy birthday, Alan, you sad little raincloud.
This is the moment you realize you’ll be stuck with Alan’s existential whining for the entire film. Forget ghosts, forget monsters—your real horror is spending two hours with this guy.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Boredom
When Alan learns his mother (Barbara Hershey) has had a stroke, he decides to hitchhike home. Cue a series of vignettes where Alan rides with increasingly weird strangers, most of whom look like they were cast after losing a bet.
There’s Ferris (Nicky Katt), an army deserter who nearly gets them killed in a car crash. There’s a creepy farmer (Cliff Robertson) who looks like he wandered in from a better movie. And then there’s George Staub (David Arquette), the main “villain,” if you can call a mumbling, formaldehyde-scented zombie in a muscle car a villain.
Arquette’s George is supposed to be menacing, but he’s about as scary as an off-brand wax figure. Watching him try to menace Alan is like watching a Golden Retriever try to play chess. You feel bad for him, but it’s not working.
The Ride That Goes Nowhere
The title comes from a rollercoaster called “The Bullet,” which Alan was too chicken to ride as a kid. This is meant to be a metaphor for facing fear and embracing life. But in practice, it just means we’re forced to watch flashbacks of Alan’s childhood while he stares longingly at carnival rides. Nothing says “gripping horror” like a mopey man remembering he didn’t have the guts to get on Six Flags’ junior coaster.
When George finally forces Alan to choose between his life and his mother’s, it should be gut-wrenching. Instead, it plays like a bad improv class exercise:
“You have to pick someone to die, Alan.”
“Uh… my mom?”
“Cool, scene.”
And that’s it. George vanishes, Alan wakes up, and nothing matters. Much like the movie itself.
The Cinematic Style of a Public Access Ghost Story
Mick Garris directs the hell out of this film—if by “directs the hell out of” you mean filling it with Dutch angles, bargain-bin CGI, and dream sequences that never end. Watching Riding the Bullet is like being trapped in the world’s worst haunted house, where the scares are cardboard cutouts, the lights flicker because someone forgot to pay the bill, and the guide won’t stop talking about their art school portfolio.
The hallucination scenes are especially painful. Alan sees murals moving, corpses whispering, and himself crawling out of a grave. Instead of terrifying, it looks like someone spilled Monster Energy Drink on Windows 98 and called it “special effects.”
The Cast: Wasted Talent Anonymous
Barbara Hershey, a legitimately great actress, plays Alan’s mom. She’s in the movie for maybe ten minutes, spends most of it bedridden, and still manages to out-act everyone else. Erika Christensen plays the girlfriend, who spends her time oscillating between “supportive” and “angry” like a broken mood ring.
And then there’s David Arquette. Fresh off Scream, Arquette tries to inject menace into George Staub but mostly just looks confused, like he accidentally walked into the wrong set and decided to roll with it. His zombie hitchhiker has all the charisma of wet cardboard. Honestly, if Scary Movie had parodied this, it would have been an improvement.
Themes, If You Squint Hard Enough
The novella had something going for it: the idea of confronting death, making choices, and living with regret. The film takes those themes, waters them down, and drowns them in a bathtub full of Alan’s tears.
By the time adult Alan narrates that he never became a real artist, his marriage failed, and his mother died anyway, you’re not haunted—you’re just relieved it’s over. The message of the film seems to be: “Life sucks, death sucks, art sucks, and by the way, you wasted ten bucks on this ticket.”
The Box Office Bullet (Straight to the Skull)
Earning just $134,711 domestically, Riding the Bullet didn’t just bomb—it disintegrated. To put that in perspective, more people probably saw your cousin’s garage band play at a local bar than saw this in theaters. Stephen King adaptations usually guarantee at least some buzz. This one was so forgettable, even King fans forgot to complain about it.
Final Thoughts: Death by Ennui
At its core, Riding the Bullet is a story about fear, regret, and mortality. In practice, it’s two hours of watching a sad man hitchhike while ghosts pop up like bad jump-scare YouTubers. The scares don’t scare, the drama doesn’t land, and the rollercoaster metaphor is so obvious it might as well come with a neon sign.
Even with a cast featuring Barbara Hershey, Erika Christensen, and David Arquette, the film still manages to feel like a community theater production of Scooby-Doo, minus the charm.
Would you rather ride the actual Bullet rollercoaster, risk vomiting corn dogs, and get stuck upside-down for 20 minutes? Absolutely. Because at least something would happen.
Verdict: Riding the Bullet isn’t just a misfire—it’s cinematic Russian roulette where every chamber is loaded.
