Much like most faithful Stephen King film interpretations, Riding the Bullet falters from its basic failure to be able to translate the fantastical elements of the horror scribe's prose. Director Mick Garris has a history with King, previously adapting the needless Shining TV mini-series, along with the cat suit monster flick Sleepwalkers and various other anthology series, all of which basically share that same fundamental weakness that pops up in most book-to-screen adaptations. Much like 2003's embarrassing flop Dreamcatcher, Garris does his best to try and pull off what can only be realized in the written form, but too often it just comes off awkward and forced. Take how he handles the inner monologues of the main character or the hallucinogenic dream sequences that get old far too soon for their own good. On the upside, the director does show a fun sense of style in some of the camera shots and the carefully selected music fits perfectly for the '60s-era road-trip vibe. The story follows some major deviations from the book, which purists will be sad to note even if they should be used to it by now. In the end, Garris misses the tone completely, making an otherwise frightful tale into a semi-comical show of style over substance.