‘Choke’ rapes novel it adapts

Sex addict Victor Mancini and his dim witted best friend work at a Colonial Williamsburg knock-off. Victor’s mother lives in a retirement home where he has slept with half of the staff, and the elderly residents treat him as the Second Coming of Christ.

Loaded with sex, religious irreverence, a crazy mother and the protagonist choking on purpose, Chuck Palahniuk crafted his fourth novel, “Choke,” in 2001.

With all of these rich plot points to draw from, you would think a movie couldn’t fail to deliver. Unfortunately, the film “Choke” follows the directions of its title.

As the second page to screen adaptation of one of Chuck Palahniuk’s novels, “Choke” is an absolute joke.

The film version of Palahniuk’s first novel, “Fight Club,” spoiled viewers, becoming one of the few exceptions to the rule that the book is always better than the movie. David Fincher’s “Fight Club” actually condensed and improved upon Palahniuk’s first novel.

While movie adaptations must cut out portions of a book in the interest of time and budgeting, much of “Choke” feels airy and spaced out. It comes off as though they did not have enough source material to draw from.

The pacing of “Choke” is clumsy, and one walks away with the impression that debut director Clark Gregg had no idea what he was doing.

Portions of the movie leave you feeling slightly bored, which is the last thing you would expect from a Palahniuk adaptation.

The fault is not in the acting or the casting. Sam Rockwell as anti-hero Victor Mancini, Anjelica Huston as his ailing mother and Brad William Henke as Victor’s chronically masturbating best friend all put out strong performances; but in the hands of a more competent director amazing performances could have been milked out of this cast.

The movie removes most of the anger and shock of the book. While this happens often in movie adaptations, Palahniuk’s work should be one of the exceptions. An audience expecting a movie as striking and exciting as “Fight Club” will be extremely disappointed.

The movie plays up the romance that only semi-exists in the novel, and the films’ attempts to produce an emotional response from the viewer fall flat.

Clocking in just shy of an hour-and-a-half, “Choke” lacks depth, anger and direction.

This film adaptation is an easily forgettable piece of castrated celluloid. If the viewer hasn’t read the book, they might find the movie somewhat enjoyable, but as an adaptation of my favorite Palahniuk book, I wish I had saved my nine dollars.