Poetic Film Review: The Gathering (2002)

In the quiet town, where whispers lie,
A tragedy unfolds, souls cry.
A church from ages past, unearthed,
Ideas exceptional, wasted, unsurched.

A scientist, Simon, seeks to find,
The truth within the ancient mind.
His wife, Marion, fate's pawn, guides,
An American, Cassie, survival rides.

Amnesia's grip, visions of terror,
Enigmatic figures, lurking near.
The Gathering's plot, once promising,
Now formulaic, leaving spirits dimming.

Anthony Horowitz, a master's hand,
A thrilling tale, expected to stand.
But like a ship, lost in the night,
The Gathering, fails to reach its light.

With a cast of stars, and direction wise,
The film struggles, like a ship, to rise.
Striking scenes, but gaps in plot,
A sense of disappointment, hearts are hot.

A disappointment, a wasted chance,
A film that should have danced,
But now left in the shadows cast,
A testament to ideas, too fast.

(Note: The review in its original form can be read here.)

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