Like The Shining, The Dead Zone is proof that films are much better off using Stephen King’s ideas as a template rather than treating them as gospel. Make no mistake, 1983’s The Dead Zone is a full-on, bug-fuck David Cronenberg flick, and King himself could never have imagined a creation so strange and surreal as Christopher Walken. Here, as a man plagued by psychic premonitions and visions of a global disaster, Walken eschews punctuation in his trademark way and one-ups his own oddball delivery. Matching Walken step by step is Martin Sheen as a deranged senator. But really, if the movie consisted solely of Walken reacting in a Walken-y way to his premonitions as if being zapped in the brain, it would still be terrific.