The Running Man (2025)

Director: Edgar Wright
Starring: Glen Powell, Josh Brolin, Colman Domingo, Lee Pace, Michael Cera, Emilia Jones, William H. Macy, Daniel Ezra, Jayme Lawson, Alyssa and Sienna Benn, Katy O' Brian, Karl Glusman, Martin Herlihy, Sean Hayes, David Zayas, Angelo Gray, Oluniké Adeliyi
Running Time: 133 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Of the many Stephen King adaptations that hit screens in 2025, a new take on The Running Man always seemed the most logical on paper. That's mainly due to so much happening in the world since the author first published his 1982 novel about a dystopian reality show that sees its protagonist competing in a nationally televised battle for his life. But when the Arnold Schwarzenegger original hit theaters a few years later, it arrived as a cheesy guilty pleasure very much of its era, yet ripe for a potential revisiting down the road. 

Now, with the confluence of reality TV, the internet, smart phones, digital surveillance, artificial intelligence and socio-political conflicts, key aspects of King's eerily prophetic tale have come to pass, creating a wealth of new ideas from which co-writer/director Edgar Wright can draw. And does he ever, which only makes the chilly reception this received from critics and audiences even more perplexing. Unfolding at a breakneck pace, it's edited and constructed well enough to earn a lengthy run time, with much of its success attributable to Wright's world building, a smart script, its great cast and a handful of mind blowing action set pieces. 

In a near future, the United States is governed by an authoritarian media entity called the Network, which ensures the country's population lives in poverty with little access to affordable healthcare. Rearing the nation's viewers on a trashy diet of reality TV and violent game shows, ordinary citizens are given a chance to beat the odds in rigged televised competitions that offer substantial monetary rewards. The most popular is The Running Man, where three "runners" have a shot at winning $1 billion if they survive 30 days without being killed by the Network's five "hunters." But for recently unemployed blue collar worker Ben Richards (Glen Powell), it could be his only chance at affording medicine for he and wife Sheila's (Jayme Lawson) sick two-year-old daughter, Cathy (Alyssa and Sienna Benn).  

Despite Sheila's pleas, Ben auditions for the show, bringing him face-to-face with producer Dan Killian (Josh Brolin), who senses he might have a huge ratings draw on his hands. Ben signs on the dotted line, but when the hunt begins, he quickly realizes fans are being duped by Killian and bombastic show host Bobby Thompson (Colman Domingo) into viewing him as a cold, calculated criminal. But while Ben captivates the audience and outsmarts mysteriously masked lead hunter Evan McCone (Lee Pace), Killian orchestrates the ultimate finale, as the show's latest breakout star fights for his survival. 

Even before the film's title card appears, we see a desperate, quick tempered Ben pleading for his old job back, having risked standing up for co-workers in a society where selfless actions aren't just frowned upon, but punished. Now with a sick child and his wife pulling double duty waitressing at a shady establishment, desperation starts sinking in. It's also our first glimpse of this corporate media dictatorship that strikes just the right balance of hewing close enough to certain aspects of contemporary culture while also having a semi-futuristic feel firmly rooted in sci-fi.  

Wright and co-writer Michael Bacall are threading a thin needle here, but the execution is backed up by Andrew Whitehurst's VFX and some really impressive set design from Marcus Rowland that help move this far past the TV-centric plot of its 1987 cinematic predecessor. And though a certain cheese factor remains, it's considerably less, passing as an actual game show you'd watch, albeit one that serves the story's many thematic goals. 

This battle-to-the-death manhunt presided over by its sleazy, carnival barker of a host manipulates viewers into accepting whatever constantly changing "rules" Killian sees fit. But it also accomplishes a larger, more sinister goal in keeping the lower class subservient to the Network, who dangle the possibility of hope over helpless contestants who don't stand a chance at winning. They're aware how stacked the deck is, but don't have a say, knowing their only shot at escaping poverty is surviving to the end. Cunning, athletic and angry enough for that to seem attainable, Ben's in a different league than fellow contestants Jenni (Katy O' Brian) and Tim (Martin Herlihy), creating an intriguing dynamic with Killian, who sees dollar signs for at least as long as he can control him.

The show's presentation and format is concisely explained without slowing the momentum, but it's what happens once Ben leaves the studio that makes for such a thrilling ride. If the '87 film failed at opening up King's story, this better explores Ben (given some flimsy disguises by William H. Macy's store owner Molie) contending with a bloodthirsty public eager to give him up for a reward. As the hunters close in, the film cleverly incorporates social media and drone cameras, making it clear even the highly skilled Ben needs more help. This is evident when mandatory video testimonials he mails in to air on the program are edited and manipulated by Killian to push the Network's agenda and turn viewers against him.  

There's a relentless, brilliantly staged hotel action sequence that sees Ben attempting to escape the hunters' clutches that's somehow topped by a latter one that plays like a deranged and dangerous Home Alone reenactment. All of it eventually leads to a plane ride from hell that finds Ben in an explosive final showdown that'll determine his ultimate fate. Along the way we get some lively supporting turns from Daniel Ezra as a Running Man-obsessed streamer aiding Ben in his escape and a wildly entertaining Michael Cera, whose rebellious survivalist Elton will do anything to exact revenge on the Network that killed his father. 

Cera's brief, but incredibly memorable and eccentric performance strikes just the right tone while Emilia Jones appears late in the third act as Amelia, a highfalutin woman taken hostage by Ben. Yes, her character's a plot device, but you'd never know that considering all she brings to a role that serves an such an important function in Ben's quest to open the public's eyes to government crimes and corruption. 

Though Pace strikes an evil, imposing presence as masked vigilante McCone, it's Brolin's Svengali-like Killian who calls the shots, filtering instructions through Colman Domingo's flamboyant emcee. The latter puts his own unique spin on Richard Dawson's '87 outing while the ideally cast Brolin personifies this smarmy, manipulative mastermind with more than a few twists in store. He may respect Ben's will to win, but primarily sees him as a tool for further strengthen the Network's grip over society. 

Ben becomes a symbol, and whether he survives the ordeal or not, his impact could prove longer lasting by showing citizens their potential power to invoke change. Powell provides a worthy mix of anger, desperation, physical prowess and morality to the rebellious Ben, demonstrating again why he received all those early Tom Cruise comparisons. While he's not there yet, and his best work remains 2024's overlooked Hit Man, this project can't help but feel like another step forward in further showcasing that versatility.        

Aside from a pat, overexplanatory final few minutes that tells rather than shows, The Running Man flirts with perfection and may even be superior to King's similarly themed The Long Walk adaptation from the same year. Easily putting to shame the '87 version, it'll rattle Scott Pilgrim fans to hear it's a strong contender for Wright's best film, or at least his most focused and accessible. Free from any polarizing quirks, this looks and feels like a big deal, rarely letting up as it makes the most of its inspired premise. And by using time and technology to expand on the original's ideas, it enhances the potency of a message that's only grown in the decades since. 

The Life of Chuck

Director: Mike Flanagan
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill, Mia Sara, Nick Offerman, Carl Lumbly, Benjamin Pajak, Jacob Tremblay, Annalise Basso, Taylor Gordon, Kate Siegel, Samantha Sloyan, Trinity Bliss, Matthew Lillard, Violet McGraw, Heather Langencamp, David Dastmalchian, Cody Flanagan, Q'orianka Kilcher, Antonio Raul Corbo, Molly C. Quinn, Michael Trucco, Carla Gugino, Lauren LaVera
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers**

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

In a year that's seen no shortage of Stephen King's work on screen, the feeling is that most of his films fit into one of two categories. Although he's best known for straightforward horror, it always seems to be the others that stop you dead in your tracks, forcing a double take to confirm it's his name appearing above the credits. But it wasn't until The Shawshank Redemption hit theaters in 1994 that perceptions of the author really started to change, earning him full respect outside the horror genre. And now we can properly credit this evolution for helping clear the path for Mike Flanagan's The Life of Chuck, one of the strongest King adaptations ever lensed. 

Based on a novella from the writer's 2020 short story collection, If It Bleeds, the film fearlessly explores the minutiae of everyday life, carefully walking a delicate line that separates mysticism from reality. And it comes from a director who's no stranger to King's material, having helmed Gerald's Game and The Shining's surprisingly well received sequel, Doctor Sleep, both of which share little in common with this. But who is Chuck? The answer is simpler than we expect, yet also much deeper and more profound. Every scene, moment and line of dialogue revolves around this title character, even when you're lulled into thinking otherwise. It's all about him, and in a strangely cosmic sense, also us. 

Middle school teacher Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is having an awful day, even as many around the globe are suffering far worse. California was just struck by a catastrophic 9.2 earthquake, the internet is out worldwide, cars are falling into sink holes and suicides are way up. It could be the end and he's stuck sitting through unpleasant parent-teacher conferences when not being bombarded by billboards, commercials and advertisements thanking an accountant named Charles "Chuck" Krantz for "39 Great Years!' Marty's ex-wife Felicia Gordon (Karen Gillan), a nurse at the local hospital, isn't faring any better, with the pair leaning on each other during what could be their last days. 

Flashing back some months earlier, we follow a middle-aged Chuck (Tom Hiddleston), who while attending a banking conference has a spontaneous musical moment involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon) and red-haired young woman (Annalise Basso) in the midst of a bad breakup. From there, we get a look at Chuck's childhood spent living with his kind but alcoholic grandfather Albie (Mark Hamill) and free spirited grandmother Sarah (Mia Sara) following the death of his parents and unborn baby sister. Torn between an interest in dance and Albie's insistence on a more practical path, Chuck is sternly warned by him to stay out of the house's locked cupola, only further piquing the boy's curiosity.  

Told in reverse chronological order, those expecting the life affirming tale hinted at in the trailers may initially be taken aback by an apocalyptic parable along the lines of a moodier, more philosophical Leave The World Behind. But the worst way to approach any of this is literally, like a puzzle in need of solving. Better described as the series finale of a life, there are clues, just not related to what you'd assume, some of which are caught on a second watch once the whole story's played out. 

Even when we struggle to process how much of the opening act's cataclysmic disaster is actually real, Marty and Felicia's sinking feelings of dread and hopelessness remain a constant. Exes with only each other to lean on as they try to process all that's happening during a deep late night conversation, the substance of their talk proves important later. We'll also meet other shaken residents, like Marty's manic neighbor Gus (Matthew Lillard), kindly, dignified town mortician Sam (Carl Lumbly), depressed single father Josh (David Dastmalchian) and a reappearing young girl on roller skates (Violet McGraw). 

With the situation worsening, a distracted Marty and Felicia still can't seem to figure out who this "Chuck" guy is or why his pleasant, bespeckled mug is everywhere of late, including through the illuminated windows of neighborhood homes. Becoming as ubiquitous as Truman Burbank, he's not old enough to be retiring so there's clearly something else going on. But as achingly believable as Ejiofor and Gillan are in these roles, they'll exit stage left when it's time to meet Chuck. 

In the first of Flanagan's many carefully calibrated tonal shifts, the story enters uncharted territory with the introduction of mild mannered insurance agent Chuck, who's briefly played by Hiddleston in a part smaller than you'd expect, but no less monumental. His encounter with this street drummer and bystander comes delightfully out of nowhere, with the actor gradually conveying all the complicated, inexplicable emotions flowing through Chuck in that moment.

This is also when Nick Offerman's narrator emerges as a character unto himself, supplying pointed and poignant observations lifted directly from King's prose. The actor's deep baritone and droll, bemused delivery is immediately recognizable when delivering a sarcastic, occasionally hilarious commentary that disproves the ridiculous theory all voice overs are lazy. Anything can be mishandled, but A Christmas Story and Arrested Development would probably like a word since both serve as a template for how Offerman deftly adds to the verisimilitude of Flanagan's universe.

Carefully placed but never overused, the narration builds and memorably punctuates certain scenes, like when tracking the three strangers as they cross paths in the spectacular, impromptu dance sequence that means more than we initially think. The thrilling choreography and performances provide a wake-up call, putting viewers on notice that the film's turned an unpredictable corner. But what's scarier is how it'll later be topped by an even better one. 

Joy begets tragedy when Chuck's childhood is drastically altered following his parents' death. Played by three different actors at separate ages, the heaviest lifting comes from a revelatory Benjamin Pajak as the 11-year-old version. And while he's nearly unrecognizable behind a scraggly, walrus-like mustache, Mark Hamill gives the performance of his career as Albie, at one point turning a speech that extols the virtues of mathematics into quiet devastation for a grandson whose ambitions are squashed in an instant. But in embodying this flawed but well meaning grandfather with such sincerity, we believe his advice comes from the right place, despite how visibly painful it is for the boy to hear.    

That moment puts everything previously shown into proper perspective, helping explain why Chuck stops at the sound of those drums later on the street as an adult, surrendering to a love that's laid dormant for decades as he pursued a more conventional career path. But many of his interests stem from his movie musical obsessed grandmother Sarah, a practical voice of wisdom and reason he always felt more connected to than Albie, mainly because she's so much fun. In her first acting role in over a decade, Ferris Bueller and Legend star Mia Sara doesn't get a ton of screen time, but does she ever make the most of it, her character's presence and impact reverberating long after she's left the picture. 

A seemingly superfluous side plot involving Chuck's extracurricular dance club hits hardest, forming the crux of the story's importance and bookending what that came before. This is Flanagan's finest hour, depicting the pangs of adolescence with relatable humor and heartbreaking nostalgia, avoiding the sappiness that would sink lesser films of a similar ilk. It's also full of small moments you don't want to see end, from Chuck's unforgettable interaction with hippie teacher Miss Richards (Kate Siegel) to his crush on taller, older dance partner Cat (Trinity Bliss) that culminates in the film's most moving scene. Everything about it is pure magic, including Chuck getting just the right advice from the coach (Samantha Sloyan) during a sudden attack of fear and insecurity. And while there's real doubt how things will turn out, the pay off is exhilarating, with Offerman's narrator capping it all off with a perfect line that encapsulates a kind of memory that can't be described. 

Invoking elements from The Tree of Life and even Robert Zemeckis's Here, Flanagan gives the material a Spielbergian touch by celebrating the profound intricacies of human experience in ways that speaks directly to mainstream moviegoers. With cinematographer Eben Bolter expertly conveying each chapter's distinctive look and The Newton Brothers' sweeping score carrying us through, it feels like the type of dramatic fantasy that would have blown theatergoers away in the 90's and 00's. Bubbling just under the surface is this mystery that comes to a head in its closing minutes, pulling back the curtain with a reveal that leaves you gasping for air as the credits roll. 

Between an off-putting title, its inexplicable 'R' rating, poor promotion and getting dumped into theaters a year after winning the top prize in Toronto, it's obvious the studio didn't have a clue how to sell a film this adventurous. A meditation on life and death in reverse, shocking developments and surprising performances pop up at every turn, forcing viewers to question the journey they're really on. And with a myriad of tiny details left for discovery on repeated viewings, it saves the best act for last, making it a rarity among King's prolific output.                         

The Long Walk

Director: Francis Lawrence
Starring: Cooper Hoffman, David Jonsson, Garrett Wareing, Tut Nyuot, Charlie Plummer, Ben Wang, Jordan Gonzalez, Joshua Odjick, Mark Hamill, Roman Griffin Davis, Judy Greer, Josh Hamilton
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

After Stephen King published the dystopian horror novel The Long Walk in 1979 under the pseudonym of Richard Bachman, various attempts have been made over the decades to greenlight a film adaptation. The first book he wrote as a freshman at the University of Maine, it's one of his very best, drawing the attention of acclaimed directors like George A. Romero and Frank Darabont, both of whom showed interest in bringing it to the big screen. But that didn't pan out, temporarily depriving audiences of a film with as much cinematic potential as the author's most revered outings. 

Now that director Francis Lawrence's vision is finally here, King can appreciate he may have dodged a bullet if that hypothetical 80's or 90's version had fallen in the wrong hands. It might even be the rare case  of a project being been blessed by its lengthy stay in development hell, allowing enough time for the right filmmaker and cast to emerge for a story that's only grown in resonance. For a while, the film goes on a streak where it appears ready to breathe the same rarefied air as The Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me, Misery, The Shining and The Mist. At least until a familiar feeling emerges in the pit of your stomach toward the end, which is where most King movies soar or fall. And considering what's at stake in this story, that pressure seems even more palpable.    

In an alternate 20th century the United States is ruled by a totalitarian military regime as it wrestles with the consequences of an economic depression following the war. As a response, the government has established a televised annual event called "The Long Walk," where fifty teenage boys are randomly selected from each state to continuously walk for days while maintaining a pace of three miles per hour. Failure to do so after three warnings results in death, with the winner earning a large cash prize and their chosen wish. Marketed as a contest to inspire patriotism and hope, the regime's actual motivations are  more nefarious, even as boys far and wide sign up for a chance to rescue themselves and their families from poverty. 

One of those competitors is Maine's Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman), whose mother Ginny (Judy Greer) tearfully begs him to back out. He doesn't, instead arriving at the starting line to meet his opponents, who include charismatic optimist Pete McVries (David Jonsson), philosophical Billy Stebbins (Garrett Wareing), kindhearted motormouth Hank Olson (Ben Wang), unhinged bully Gary Barkovich (Charlie Plummer), good natured Art Baker (Tut Nyuot), aspiring novelist Richard Harkness (Jordan Gonzalez) and rebellious Collie Parker (Joshua Odjick). 

Before embarking on this grueling hundreds mile journey, the teens are assigned numbers and followed by arm guards ready to put bullets in anyone who can't keep pace. They'll bond and fight, finding themselves in the increasingly natural position of forming friendships with those they're battling to the death. Only given water and rations, injuries, exhaustion and sleep deprivation takes their toll until a sole survivor remains. Overseeing it all is the ominous, gravely voiced Major (Mark Hamill), who yells motivational platitudes at them throughout, preparing to personally execute the runner-up and declare a winner at the finish line. 

Laying out its high concept in the opening minutes, unanswered questions eventually become clearer over the course of this grueling walk. In fact, we see little outside the actual race other than Ray's mom begrudgingly sending him off and a spattering of curious roadside bystanders watching the ordeal, whether that's kids on bicycles or elderly couples on their porches. But there's even a haunting quality to those moments, as silent stares of spectators offer another glimpse of the oppressive world these boys are fighting to escape. All those scenes are beautifully shot by cinematographer Jo Willems while The Lumineers' Jeremiah Fraites' emotionally affecting score only underlines the weight of their plight. 

While taking place in an alternate near-past, the cars and setting that invoke a Depression-era feel, despite King's story being widely understood as a metaphor for the Vietnam draft. And you definitely sense that, with teens "volunteering" for a deadly conflict at the behest of a government sending them to their graves. Most everything we learn about this totalitarian society comes via flashbacks of Ray, his mom and late father (Josh Hamilton), but it's enough, retaining a degree of mystery for the marathon's many reveals. Some of those tie directly to Ray's reasons for signing up which, aside from the ending, might mark the biggest distinction between the novel and writer JT Mollner's script. 

Between cramping, hallucinations, broken limbs and defecation breaks at gunpoint, the trek becomes progressively more brutal with each mile as a myriad of bleak, unsettling scenarios play out. If at first you doubt a film comprised entirely of walking and talking can produce the necessary momentum, Lawrence and Mollner prove those suspicions wrong, especially when speculation increases over who's next to go and how. But with contestants dropping like flies, it's ultimately the touching friendship between Ray and McVries that powers this plot, as two strangers from seemingly different worlds pull each other through, realizing they share more in common than either assumed. 

Hoffman and Jonsson's performances carry the film, with the former unquestionably proving he has the chops as a lead, with his desperate, contemplative turn as Ray hitting twice as hard upon us realizing the key similarity between actor and character. As McVries, the magnetic Jonsson casts a commanding presence, alternating between fear and bravado at the drop of a hat. A manic Charlie Plummer also delivers as the race's resident sociopath, while an always reliable Judy Greer impresses in her brief but powerful role. And by putting a villainously cartoonish spin on his carnival barking Major, Hamill forces us to see this omnipresent character through the same lens as these participants.

Endings are always a bone of contention in King's universe, whether they're his or a screenwriter tasked with stepping on the legendary author's toes. So if there's a complaint about the closing minutes, it's in a lack spectacle, opting not to pull back the curtain and show families gathered around the TV or crowds flooding the streets to root for their favorite. Instead, we get a succession of clever twists that capture the ambiguity of King's final pages, even if details differ. 

There are issues with both conclusions, but also a common denominator that has us questioning what we can take at face value. Dark, violent and disturbing, The Long Walk has virtually nothing in common with The Hunger Games aside from the same director. More closely resembling They Shoot Horse, Don't They? or Battle Royale, this succeeds by being exactly about what it claims, with every minute taking place on a desolate, endless stretch of rural road paved with the worst intentions.                                                                                 

The Monkey

Director: Osgood Perkins
Starring: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery, Colin O' Brien, Rohan Campbell, Sarah Levy, Adam Scott, Elijah Wood, Osgood Perkins, Tess Degenstein, Danica Dreyer, Laura Mennell
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

With barely enough time to catch our breathe and recover after his release of last year's polarizing Longlegs, writer/director Osgood Perkins returns with The Monkey, based on Stephen King's popular short story from 1985's "The Skeleton Crew." And while it's somewhat of a departure for a filmmaker whose previous horror entries have been deadly serious, signs started to emerge he could be veering closer to the mainstream with subsequent efforts. 

After showing an affinity for dark, cerebral thrillers like Se7en and Zodiac in Longlegs, Perkins' story took a turn into more conventional territory, splitting critics and audiences down the middle. This combined with one of Nic Cage's crazier performances makes it less shocking to see the director now giving us a black comedy that invokes Final Destination, Child's Play and M3GAN by way of M. Night Shyamalan. But it's also his most purely enjoyable outing, full of gruesomely macabre situations and laugh out loud moments that should cause viewers to satisfyingly squirm with discomfort.

In 1999, identical twin brothers Hal and Bill Shelburn (Christian Convery) are left to be raised by single mother Lois (Tatiana Maslany) when their father (Adam Scott) disappears after attempting to return a drum-playing toy monkey to an antique shop. But when the boys go through their dad's belongings and discover the toy, they find that the monkey causes death once its mechanical key is turned. And after their beloved babysitter is decapitated, Hal's attempt to kill his bullying brother backfires when he realizes the monkey doesn't take requests, leaving them motherless and under the guardianship of kooky aunt Ida (Sarah Levy) and uncle Chip (Perkins).

Now twenty-five years after the monkey's presumed disposal, Hal and Bill (Theo James) are estranged, with Hal rarely seeing his own teen son Petey (Colin O' Brien) in an effort to protect him from the toy's potential return. But when a freak accident draws him back to his childhood home in Maine, it's clear the monkey's back to claim a new cluster of innocent victims. Reconnecting with Bill, Hal must find a way to stop this while protecting a son who assumes his dad wants nothing to do with him. Only when the family finally comes to terms with their shared, sordid past can they possibly put an end to the destruction.

In a lengthy but gripping prologue, the monkey is introduced via a hysterically unhinged Adam Scott performance as the twins' father, shaken to his core in attempting to rid himself of what he warns the store's owner isn't a "toy." This blood-soaked scenario perfectly sets the stage for what follows, as its the first of many elaborately staged monkey kills that tie into the film's central theme of not knowing when anyone's time is up, an idea imparted on the twins by their cynical, bracingly honest mom Lois. 

The opening section works overtime in establishing the uneasy dynamic between siblings who Convery gives two very distinct personalities, especially with his depiction of Bill as an insufferable, bullying teen we want to see get his comeuppance. And Maslany makes a huge impact with limited screen time, her character leaving an impression on the twins that lingers long after the prologue ends. She's also at the center of the film's most chilling moment, with Perkins knowing that for as many over-the-top, jaw dropping deaths there are, hers needs to be played terrifyingly straight.  

Once the action shifts into the present and reluctant father Hal attempts to shield Petey from the monkey, things get pretty wild, as the doll causes continuous carnage with its randomly sadistic murders, most notably an electrifying one at a hotel pool. But the most impressive aspect of all this insanity is how firm a grasp Perkins has on tone, infusing often ludicrous scenes with Hal's lingering guilt, which is magnified by the twin he still resents and a son he's pushed away.

After seemingly falling off the movie radar for years, Divergent series star Theo James pulls off a Josh Hartnett inspired comeback to portray adult Hal as a dad too imprisoned by his mistakes to forge a real relationship with anyone until catastrophe intervenes. He's also resonates equally as the smug, slimy Bill, whose preoccupation with avenging their mother's death decades earlier carries lethal consequences. We also get some humorous turns from Elijah Wood as a self-help parenting guru married to Hal's ex-wife and Halloween Ends' Rohan Campbell (in a hilarious wig) as a local metalhead who comes into possession of the cursed toy. 

Visually striking and atmospheric, there's a sense of sinister, pessimistic dread that's driven home with an occasionally powerful message about death and childhood trauma. The events are over-the-top, but presented in such a way that you'll feel and fear the cruel hand of fate behind each kill. Despite minor faults accompanying a busy final act, it's hard to imagine King himself being dissatisfied, especially when compared to lesser cinematic interpretations of his work. Those still anxiously waiting for Perkins to take his talent to the next level may have to wait a little longer, but as a fun, skillfully made diversion, The Monkey checks just about every box.                                    

It Chapter Two

Director: Andy Muschietti
Starring: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Jay Ryan, James Ransone, Andy Bean, Sophia Lillis, Jaeden Martell, Finn Wolfhard, Chosen Jacobs, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Bill Skarsgård
Running Time: 170 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Endings have never been Stephen King's strong suit. This is worth mentioning since It Chapter Two seems to allude to that numerous times with a wink and a nod, as if audiences were already going into Andy Muschietti's sequel to his really great 2017 film adaptation of King's epic novel prepared for disappointment. After all, they've experienced it before, with 1990's underwhelming It TV miniseries having a particularly problematic second half marred by a wretched conclusion. But to lay the blame entirely at King's feet rather than the filmmakers tasked with translating his work through the years, isn't exactly fair.

You need only see The Mist or The Shawshank Redemption to realize how taking creative license with King's material can yield extremely satisfying results that enhance the themes of his storytelling. Muschietti's It was one of the good ones, delivering a Stand By Me meets Stranger Things vibe bolstered by the 80's era setting, perfectly calibrated child performances, and Bill Skarsgård's demonic turn as Pennywise The Clown. Part-horror, part coming-of-age nostalgia, you could call it the quintessential King adaptation in how it streamlines the author's over-indulgences while accenting his strengths.

Chapter Two was always going to be challenging in that it couldn't be a period piece with the same young actors, unless there's a big deviation from the novel preventing the inevitable time jump that sees all the roles recast with adult counterparts. Plus, there's just something about kids at that age being confronted with supernatural horror, just as their imaginations and emotions are already running rampant. Not only does everything seem more important during adolescence, but the stakes just feel higher when pre-teens experience a loss of innocence, forcing them to grow into who they'll eventually become, whether they're ready or not.

Now, we find out exactly who these kids become in a solid, if a little messy, sequel that does a lot right in avoiding many expected pitfalls. It helps that the same director returns with a nearly identical vision, and while it may take viewers a bit to get acclimated to the cast, Muschietti employs a very similar structure that works heavily in its favor, making for an effective, but undeniably overlong experience. But it's a testament to him that the nearly three-hour running time doesn't feel like the drag it so easily could have.

It's 2016 in Derry, Maine when a man is brutally attacked by a gang of homophobic youths at the town's carnival and thrown off a bridge, into the waiting arms of the murderous Pennywise (Skarsgård). After investigating the crime, Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa) realizes the clown has returned 27 years later and takes it upon himself to contact childhood friends Bill Denbrough (James McAvoy), Beverly Marsh (Jessica Chastain), Ben Hanscom (Jay Ryan), Richie Tozier (Bill Hader), Eddie Kaspbrak (James Ransone) and Stanley Uris (Andy Bean), summoning them back home to honor the promise they all made in 1989 as members of the Losers' Club to kill the clown if he ever returned.

All but Stan arrive back in Derry, but soon discover they only have partial memories of what occurred over two decades ago. But with Mike's help, everything comes flooding back and they're soon tormented by Pennywise with hallucinations from their own past and visions of the future, even as their tormentor seeks out new victims. Making matters worse is that teen sociopath Henry Bowers (Teach Grant) survived his fall into the well and is out for revenge, having recently escaped the mental hospital where he's been confined for his father's murder. Formulating a plan to stop Pennywise for good, the gang will have to make sacrifices of their own, retracing their steps as kids, and coming face-to-face with the painful memories they'd rather have remain buried. Only then, can they be prepared for what could be their final confrontation with Pennywise.

The film's opening is almost shockingly violent, and a reminder that this was a story that never played it safe or compromised in its first installment, and certainly not now, with the characters having long aged out of childhood. Homophobic attacks and sexual abuse aren't usually the first things that come to mind when considering King's catalogue, and while this entry does seem to be unusually hung up on the former, Muschietti deserves credit again for revolving Pennywise's supernatural reign of terror around the true-to-life challenges his victims face. Like its prequel, it doesn't hold back, again earning an 'R' which admittedly carried more of an impact the first time around with a cast comprised entirely of kids. While the genuine sense of danger, the ear for how the gang talked and felt, and Pennywise's attacks heightened the scare factor of the 2017 film, this seems more like a reunion, or greatest hits compilation of all the scariest story beats and scenes from that outing with a new cast.

The more the action gets going, the better it gets, as after all pleasantries are exchanged and we get a deeper read on the characters, you start to appreciate the tiny details and continuity that link the adult losers club protagonists to their childhood counterparts. Whether it's Bill's guilt over little brother Georgie's death at the hands of Pennnywise, Beverly's abusive upbringing, Ben's impossible crush on her, Richie's inability to fit in, or the long-term consequences of Eddie's terminally overprotective mother.

To its benefit, the narrative is flashback-heavy, cutting back and forth between the past and present, filling in details we weren't previously privy to, which takes some pressure off the new faces to top their predecessors. The biggest surprise is just how much the younger originals are in this, even if some of their scenes carry a visual awkwardness resulting from them having noticeably aged a couple of years. But mostly, it's done well, with each character's 2016 story mirroring the 1989 version, bolstering the unifying the two installments while further linking the chains that connect their traumatic childhood and adult experiences.

If there's one thing everyone knew we needed in this sequel, it was Jessica Chastain stepping in to continue Sophia Lillis' extraordinary work as Beverly. Rarely does a fan casting choice feel so obviously right on every level, and when the possibility of her playing the part suddenly became real, that hook was reason enough to continue. She doesn't disappoint, transforming young Bev's quirks into a darker, more psychologically wounded woman, while still retaining the character's tomboy spirit. In other words, she delivers exactly as predicted, with the added bonus of that uncanny physical resemblance to Lillis. Her and James McAvoy predictably shine, with the latter most registering when he needs to confront guilt-ridden Bill's mental anguish over his responsibility in Georgie's death.

Bill's career as a writer also becomes a clever meta device to reference Stephen King's aforementioned battles with endings, with the author himself even getting in on the joke with one of his more memorable screen cameos. The rest of the cast have varying degrees of success, with Bill Hader channeling the goofy eccentricities younger counterpart Finn Wolfhard brought to Richie and infusing it with an angrier adult sensibility. The bond between Ben and Beverly is revisited, this time with Jay Ryan attempting to project the formally awkward, bullied overweight new kid's insecurities as a handsome, successful architect. This sub-plot, which works better in flashbacks then present-day, should have been deeply affecting, but Ryan's kind of bland opposite Chastain, thus undercutting its impact as the story's big redemptive arc. There's also a distracting exposition dump involving Mike's theories on Pennywise's origins that make little sense and should have been excised entirely.

The cast does gel, just not to the level the kids did in the previous film, causing viewers to possibly readjust their expectations for a sequel already saddled with the burden of having to follow one of the best recent King adaptations. But Muscietti manages to tie things together at the film's most important point, and an extremely long third act where the narrative should be losing steam ends up being its highlight, aided in part by Skarsgård's less present, but still scary, performance as Pennywise and a strangely compelling final showdown wherein the script simultaneously juggles numerous narratives in the past and present. If nothing else, it's actually a well-edited three hours that doesn't leave you with that sinking feeling of disappointment prevalent in so many of the author's multi-part adaptations. Still a far cry from its first chapter, It's second half functions well enough as a companion piece to prove it was a story worth finishing.     

It

Director: Andy Muschietti
Starring: Jaeden Lieberher, Bill Skarsgård, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Finn Wolfhard, Wyatt Oleff, Chosen Jacobs, Jack Dylan Grazer, Nicholas Hamilton, Jackson Robert Scott
Running Time: 135 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The experience you had watching a movie can often far surpass the movie itself, frequently causing confusion between the two. Strangely, such an experience accompanied my early 90's viewing of the miniseries adaptation of Stephen King's It. And while I exactly remember the when, why and where, it's more difficult to recall a single thing about the actual movie other than it being overlong and mostly terrible, as the King TV adaptations tended to be. But that second half featuring the child characters as adults was particularly disappointing, sucking whatever entertainment value remained from watching Tim Curry's evil clown wreck havoc in this small Maine town. And while it definitely wasn't scary, it's hard to point to any miniseries of the era that was.

It's fitting to discuss memories and nostalgia when examining the many merits of Andy Muschietti's reimagined vision of It since that's how he makes this interpretation connect. And if there's one thing we've learned about the frequently unadaptable works of Stephen King, it's that you need to find a way in. His mind goes to these strange, weird places, and unless the filmmaker can find a suitable entrance, it can all seem kind of ridiculous. In this case, that door was in front of our faces the whole time: Stand By Me-era King meets 80's Spielberg by way of Stranger Things. At the risk of simplifying it, that's the key, and the rest of the pieces just fall into place.

Anyone doubting the extent of Stranger Things' pop culture stranglehold needn't look any further than It, since this couldn't or wouldn't have unfolded the way it does without that series. But it would all mean nothing if they didn't put in the work and get it right, taking an approach that's exactly appropriate for material that now suddenly feels purposeful, possessing a palpable sense of time and place entirely absent from its predecessor. If someone asks what this is about, you can now actually tell them with a clear conscience. But why bother, when the film does such a magnificent job conveying that all on its own, earning a spot alongside the likes of Stand by Me, Carrie, The Shining, The Shawshank Redemption and Dolores Claiborne on any essential list of the most successful cinematic King adaptations.

It's October 1988 in Derry, Maine when nervously stuttering Bill Denbrough (Jaeden Lieberher) makes his 7-year-old little brother Georgie (Jackson Robert Scott) a paper sailboat, which he loses down a sewer drain in the middle of a rain storm. While attempting to retrieve it, he comes face-to face with a terrifying clown who calls himself "Pennywise The Dancing Clown" (Bill Skarsgård). After initially earning Georgie's trust, he viciously attacks the boy, dragging him into the sewer, never to be seen again.

Flashforward to the following year and Bill hasn't given hope finding his little brother, despite his parents' and much of the town believing him to be dead. But when there's another mysterious disappearance under similar circumstances, Bill enlists the help of his friends, foul-mouthed Richie Tozier (Finn Wolfhard), asthmatic Eddie Kaspbrak (Jack Dylan Grazer) and reluctant Stan Uris (Wyatt Oleff), to to go to a local marsh called the Barrens and investigate the possibility Georgie's still alive. While there, they encounter teen bully Henry Bowers (Nicholas Hamilton) and his gang who have been tormenting overweight new kid, Ben Hanscom (Jeremy Ray Taylor), whose hours of research in the Derry library has provided the group with more than a few ideas about these child abductions.

Joining them is another Bowers Gang victim, orphaned African American student Mike Hanlon (Chosen Jacobs), and the only female member of what eventually becomes "The Losers' Club," tomboy Beverly Marsh (Sophia Lillis), whose rumored promiscuity has also made her a bullying target, even as a smitten Bill and Ben compete for her affections. Soon, the kids all realize they've had visions of the same clown, the sadistic Pennywise, who assumes the appearance of whatever they fear most. And each of them have personal demons to overcome before attempting to stop this unpredictable entity who knows just how to exploit those fears, aiming to resume the reign of terror he wrecks on the children of Derry every 27 years. To beat him they'll have to bravely band together, despite the clown's best efforts to drive them apart.

Freed from many of the creative constraints that hampered previous King horror adaptations, this one rips the band-aid off right away, with a declarative opening sequence that lets you know this It means business. Shot in a washed-out VHS-era haze and backed by an unnerving, foreboding score by Benjamin Wallfisch, an unmistakable atmosphere is established that was certainly missing in the original. An "R" rating isn't necessarily a must for any horror entry, but in this specific case it really bolsters the material, at least due in part to the fact that we're just not used seeing characters this age acting authentically and being terrorized to the degree they are here. Much like Stranger Things and 80's classics that inspired it, the young actors actually look and behave like kids, and among a fairly large cast, each are given distinctive personality traits that equip them differently in dealing with the evil clown.

Muschietti masters what so many previous filmmakers adapting King's work have failed to grasp by effectively picking his spots, knowing the trigger buttons for maximum fright, as well as how hard and often to push them. After a terrifyingly graphic introduction, Pennywise's subsequent appearances are strategically placed to count, as the focus turns to building the groundwork of the kids' relationships to each other so when the time comes for that ultimate showdown, we'll care.

The more we get to know the group, the more we eventually start seeing of Pennywise, menacingly played by Bill Skarsgård in a performance that shuts down any and all comparisons to Tim Curry's portrayal, if only because the presentation feels so wildly different this time around. Skarsgård brings an innocent, almost childlike playfulness to him that somehow seems even more sinister and monstrous, as he attempts to meet them on their level. King's story always had the advantage that clowns are inherently creepy, but you can't help think this reckless incarnation is more dangerous, frequently calling to mind the differences between Ledger's and Nicholson's Jokers.

Since Pennywise is used so sparingly in the opening hour, when the time arrives for him to take center stage in the battle with these kids, it actually means something. There are moments of true terror in not only their encounters with Derry's sadistic antagonist (particularly one suspenseful scene involving a slide projector), but in their everyday lives. Darker, more adult elements of King's novel were cleaned up for a suitable network TV presentation over two decades ago such as vicious bullying, child abuse, kidnapping and murder are given a more fully fleshed-out treatment here by Muschietti. Of course none of it would work if not for the casting of these kids, each of whom overdeliver, with one delivering one of the most memorable on screen interpretations of a King character in years.

Jaeden Lieberher ably takes the lead as the reluctant but determined Bill while Jeremy Ray Taylor seems to channel a young, chubby Jerry O'Connell from Stand By Me as chronic bullying victim, Ben. The latter's story arc is sure to remind many of Stranger Things, with Nicholas Hamilton's sociopathic delinquent, Henry, baring more than a passing resemblance to the similarly psychotic Billy from that series' sophomore season. But it's ultimately the work of Sophia Lillis as the abused and ostracized Beverly that makes the strongest connection, both with viewers and the source material.

Handed the most emotionally challenging of the main roles, Beverly carries with her a knowledge and world-weariness that seems years beyond her age, even as she remains paralyzingly stunted and a prisoner of her own fear. Or more accurately, the fear of her evil, abusive father. If ever there was a bridge between the first and second chapters of this saga, it's Lillis who builds it with a performance that basically dictates where that installment needs to go, even prompting many to acknowledge there's no better actress fit to take over that role than Jessica Chastain. Aside from the obvious similarity in looks, that she might be the only one to do it justice speaks volumes about what Lillis accomplishes.

If that casting possibility is the very definition of a no-brainer, figuring out a way to make Chapter 2 as involving will still be the biggest obstacle given King's penchant for sloppy, unrealized endings. There's a reason the most successful cinematic adaptations of the author's work have frequently deviated from their sources in unexpected ways. With this being the narratively stronger section, Muschietti manages to get away with not doing much of that but it'll be intriguing to see what tricks he'll have up his sleeve to further develop the story and characters following the twenty-seven year time jump.

That the ending has us looking forward to that second chapter is something few thought was even possible after the project was announced and then spent some time in pre-production purgatory. And even fewer still could have ever guessed It would become the all-time highest- grossing horror film to date. Watching the last thirty or forty minutes should be a strong reminder why, as that slow, simmering build peaks, and the kids are forced to stare fear straight in his face. And while they do see a terrifying clown, 2017's version of It understands that their true challenge comes in dealing with their own worst fears reflected back at them.

Stranger Things

Creators: The Duffer Brothers
Starring: Winona Ryder, David Harbour, Finn Wolfhard, Millie Bobby Brown, Gaten Matarazzo, Caleb McLaughlin, Natalia Dyer, Charlie Heaton, Cara Buono, Matthew Modine, Noah Schnapp, Joe Keery, Shannon Purser
Original Airdate: 2016

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

                                                 **Spoiler Warning: This Review Reveals Minor Plot Details**

If you told me a month ago what I'd most need out of entertainment in 2016 would be a final, missing season of Steven Spielberg's Amazing Stories nearly thirty years after the fact, delivered through the spirit of The Goonies, E.T., Poltergeist, Close Encounters and Stand By Me, I'd call you crazy. And that's what's so funny about knowing what you need. Sometimes you just don't until it's arrived. A one or two line description of Netflix's nostalgic supernatural series from The Duffer Brothers, Stranger Things, could have easily been met with some collective eye rolling for fairly obvious reasons.

Netflix's Stranger Things

Telekinesis, alternate universes, government experiments, other-worldly creatures aren't topics that cause me much excitement anymore. In fact, my general interest in science fiction and horror genre has been on such a steep, steady decline in recent years, not only failing to generate trigger the exuberance it once did, but now actually inducing audible groans. Some of that's undoubtedly attributed to age and evolving tastes, but there was always a part of me holding out hope that it was also a quality issue, just needing the right project to come along and impress. Now, it's here.

After watching the eight most mind-blowing episodes of original content Netflix has yet produced, I couldn't help but think back again to Spielberg, and to a slightly lesser extent, Stephen King, who's already weighed in with high praise. Did Spielberg watch it? What did he think? Has he met the kids? This might be the first time I've this strongly wondered or cared about his opinion on anything in years. And that's not a knock on him anymore than it is on myself and others in a similar age bracket who grew up spoiled on the movies he directed and produced in the 80's. Filmmakers evolve and it's at least somewhat unfair of audiences to expect them to keep repeating themselves, but man was Spielberg ever completely in his wheelhouse making those, regardless of whatever well-received work followed.

This will always be the era for which Spieleberg is most remembered and it's been channeled with such honesty and authenticity here, succeeding where so many imitators failed. If much of that is in the tone and execution then The Duffer Brothers nail it, using the 1980's setting to do more than invoke warm, fuzzy childhood memories, instead systematically removing all the shackles restricting most modern-set efforts of the genre. It was at once a more innocent yet entirely less innocent era, all of which is magically invoked and reflected through its story and these kids. In other words, it's a keeper and easily the biggest, most welcome surprise so far this year. In any medium.

The Gang: Lucas, Mike, Eleven and Dustin

Hawkins, Indiana. 1983. A marathon game of Dungeons and Dragons with friends Mike Wheeler (Finn Wolfhard), Dustin Henderson (Gatan Matarazzo), Lucas Sinclair (Caleb McLoughlin) and Will Byers (Noah Schnapp) ends in mystery when 12-year-old Will disappears on his way home from Maike's house after an encounter with a strange, threatening creature. After discovering Will's absence the next morning, his frazzled,  single mom Joyce (Winona Ryder) and outcast older brother Jonathan (Charlie Heaton) enlist the help of grizzled, bitter police chief Jim Hopper (David Harbour), whose investigation into the disappearance awakens him from a purposelessness he's been experiencing since a personal tragedy derailed his life. All clues lead him to the government-backed Hawkins National Laboratory and their head scientist, the creepy, Andy Warhol-looking Dr. Martin Brenner (Matthew Modine), who will stop at nothing to protect the lab's top covert experiments and research.

With Mike struggling to come to terms with the fact that one of his best friends is missing, he must also contend with completely apathetic parents (played by Karen Buono and Joe Chrest)  and distracted good girl older sister, Nancy (Natalia Dyer), who's too smitten with popular school jock Steve Harrington (Joe Keery) to care about anything going on with her brother. Fortunately, Mike, Lucas and Dustin stumble upon Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), a scared young girl with a buzz cut they find in the woods with telekinetic abilities who may have answers as to what's happened to Will. The gang befriend her, with Mike going so far as to hide her in his basement without his parents' knowledge as the two form a special attachment. With Hawkins Laboratories closing in and the truth about how Will's disappearance ties to the creature and Eleven becoming apparent, the boys need to stick it out for the adventure of their lives, even as Joyce insists her son is alive and trying desperately to communicate.

This is a series you can pretty much go to town in describing without fear of giving anything away since so many of its surprises are hidden between the crevices, actually have very little to do with plot. While Amazing Stories is a decent starting point for comparison's sake, that's slightly misleading since this a single, standalone story rather than part of an anthology (at least thus far) and that show creatively missed about as much as it hit. While each of these episodes given a "Choose Your Own Adventure" style chapter title, even just one of them would undoubtedly rank as the strongest entry in that short-lived 80's series' wildly mixed catalog of quality. But the feelings and intentions associated with it remains. In so many ways, Stranger Things could be viewed through the prism of what Spielberg's expectations were for his short-lived TV project, which couldn't thrive at the time due to his exploding feature film career.

Dr. Brenner at Hawkins Laboratories

With an opening title card presented in a recognizably vintage font inspired by Stephen King paperbacks, and accompanied by a John Carpenter-infused synth score (courtesy of the Austin-based band SURVIVE), the pilot episode let's us know we're in for it. And while it's true the remainder of the season leaves viewers aghast at the period specific references, hidden 80's Easter eggs or costume, soundtrack and production design, none of that would matter if the characters were inauthentic or the story wasn't handled this skillfully.

The initial skepticism of watching a season of TV centered around solving the mystery of a 12-year-old boy abducted by a monster that resembles The Thing is wiped away by the second episode when it becomes clear that this is a show that treats the genre and the kid characters inhabiting it with intelligence and respect. Tearing a page out of Jaws, we don't see the creature all that much so when it does appear its presence actually means something, with its eventual impact having been gradually built off-screen over the course of multiple episodes. 

The special effects (which are quite good) just might be the only modern element of the series, but there's a B-movie quality to them that still fit right into place in this world. And there's no mistaking that the Duffers have very much created a world, or a couple of universes to be exact, where anything seems possible and kids and adults behaved in a way that could seem jarring to anyone that didn't grow up on 80's TV or movies this is paying tribute to. But if you did, this will feel like going home.

Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy anticipate the worst

By today's standards, it would appear the kids are almost given a dangerous amount of autonomy and independence by their parents, allowing them to frequently go off on their own with few consequences. While the plot itself is supernaturally unbelievable in nature, the fact that these kids would go unsupervised for days is not. Nor is the possibility that one of them could reasonably hide a kid in their basement for nearly a week without parental knowledge. If the adults just seemed to be more hands-off then Mike's epitomize this attitude, at first showing a shocking lack of empathy regarding the disappearance of their son's friend.

The minimal technology of the era also leads to more exciting, suspenseful situations and better storytelling as there are many points during the series that, save for their walkie-talkies, these kids have no way of communicating the harm they're in, forced to use their resourcefulness and imagination to come up with solutions. This is where it most strongly resembles The Goonies, with no winking at the audience or talking down to children like they're sub-humans. They curse, pull knives on each other and do all sorts of other things you'd never see today in a any series starring children. And only does the very real threat of death exist, it occasionally even occurs.

While the characters are most definitely recognizable "types" from 80's entertainment and even beyond, it's enthralling seeing all of them eventually subverted and challenged while serving the grand design of this genre-bending exercise. The kids each have identifiable personality quirks, with the actors giving some of the best child performances we've seen in ages. There's the always entertaining, toothless mediator Dustin played by newcomer Gaten Matarazzo, stealing scenes and hamming it up as really entertaining comic relief . Caleb McLaughlin's Lucas is the rebellious, free-thinking skeptic of the gang with most of his concerns about Eleven being justified given the situation. We don't get much of Noah Schnapp as Will Byers considering he goes MIA in the first episode, but his few scenes establish him as an outwardly nerdy, nice kid with the ability to summon the inner toughness to fight for his survival if necessary. And it ends up being very necessary.

Millie Bobby Brown as Eleven

Bullied at school and feeling little connection to his old sister and parents, Finn Wolfhard's Mike forges a deep bond with the verbally and emotionally limited Eleven, but one his friends believe only stems from his excitement that a girl is actually talking to him. The friendship that develops between El and these kids, and their attempts to hide her from the government agency both honing and exploiting her powers, is the first thing everyone talks about when discussing the show. Well, that, and Millie Bobby Brown's revelatory performance as Eleven. Simultaneously portraying a naive little girl first learning how the outside world works and a pre-programmed machine both frightened and protective of her skills, she's the big breakout here, with her character most heavily invoking the memories discussed in association with this show, most notably surrounding E.T.  Some of her most memorable scenes involve her wonderment and excitement over simple things like Eggos or a La-Z-Boy Recliner, or the boys trying to put a dress and make-up on her.

As the only one with the ability to locate Mike, El is eventually torn between the only world her young mind knows and this new one with the foreign, but welcome concept of real friends and family. Brown's scenes opposite both Wolfhard and Ryder are the strongest and most touching of the series, particularly one where Mike starts making plans for her to stay with his family permanently. Of course, we know why that can't happen, and even as we hope for at least the second best outcome for her, the scene still rips us apart. As does the mere suggestion that the possibility exists that we've seen the last of Eleven. Regardless of where they go from here, this talented young actress's card is punched for superstardom.

Winona Ryder as ax-wielding Joyce Byers

Similarly, there's something that just feels so right about Winona Ryder as frantic single mother and store clerk Joyce Byers, to the point that she's irreplaceable. More than just the nostalgia factor of returning Ryder to the decade during which her career began, she's doing it this time as something she's never played before: A grieving mother.

Falling through the cracks for a while, her career was always built on being the cool, hip young chick, but when he she aged out of it, Hollywood didn't quite know what to do with her. This feels not just like a comeback, but a full-blown homecoming, with material that plays to her inherent quirkiness while still giving her big dramatic opportunities opposite the adult and child actors (the latter she should understand better than anybody given her past).

Ryder leaves enough room to make Joyce's insistence that her presumed dead son is communicating with her seem like both the ravings of a complete lunatic and a reasonably desperate mom whose son's gone missing. Just watch how she plays the scene where she asks (or rather demands) her boss give her an advance. Undoubtedly high on the list of actresses everyone wanted back in a big way, this feels as if it was written specifically for the now middle-aged but still undeniably youthful actress, taking into account where her career started and, where we hoped, it would eventually end up under ideal circumstances.

David Harbour as Chief Hopper

At first, the blunt, grumpy Chief Hopper would seem to be one of Joyce's biggest doubters, until the evidence starts adding up, and also begins dredging up his own personal demons. The more we learn about his past the more complex he becomes, and well-traveled, but anonymous character actor David Harbour (a consistently solid presence in every project preceding this), takes it to a whole new level here, gradually peeling back the layers of Hopper's "tough guy" persona. We're surprised to discover he's an excellent cop, but perhaps even more surprised to eventually realize how much he cares.

Just as integral to the investigation, if unintentionally, are the teen characters, who on the surface could be viewed as composites from The Breakfast Club before revealing themselves as three-dimensional characters. It's again to the benefit of the series that these roles are played by unknown actors, conveying a certain believability and freshness that couldn't be achieved with big, recognizable names above the credits. Natalia Dyer, Charlie Heaton and Joe Keery and Shannon Purser are all exceptional in bringing something completely different to whom we'd label the good girl, the weirdo, the jock and the nerd, respectively.

Steve, Nancy and Barb

As things develop, motivations change, and results of Nancy's situation and how it manages to organically link to main supernatural storyline is one of the better late-season rewards. and Keery's oddly familiar-looking Steve stands has possibly the most satisfying journey of all the supporting characters. What they do with him is smart and surprising, sure to become a key talking point in discussing how the writing succeeds in even the smallest of ways.

Add to the list of accomplishments the writing of the Mr.Clarke character, a science teacher who's somehow able to explain alternate universes and space-time tears in perfectly logical terms that any 12-year-old could understand, especially these. The Duffer Brothers' Spielbergian ability to never have the adults talk down to kids is most evident here, with Clarke rarely taking a break from encouraging and feeding their curiosity to learn. He's such a minor character, but even this depiction highlights just how much has changed in thirty years about how teachers are portrayed onscreen.

It's tough to tell which of the show's nostalgic influences were conscious choices made by its creators and which may have unconciously seeped in, as not all are homages from decade's past. What it brings back is the idea of the government as the evil, controlling force manipulating the public and exploiting science for its own benefit. All the E.T. comparisons are right on target but the actual plot more closely resembles the 2011 Canadian cult sci-fi horror film, Beyond The Black Rainbow, also taking place in 1983 and featuring an aging hippie scientist conducting telepathic experiments on a young girl.

Eleven trapped in the Upside-Down

While that still criminally underseen head trip is far more inaccessible and abstract than this, its aesthetic evocation of the paranoid mood of that decade is comparable. It's hard not to be reminded of it every time the story flashes back to Matthew Modine's creepily calm Dr. Brenner and his interactions with El in the lab. And upon glimpsing the black, watery Upside-Down dimension El is able enter, it's also hard not to immediately think of Under the Skin, reminding us that the series also may have channeled more contemporary references. 
This is obviously a huge victory for Netflix, as Stranger Things came completely out of nowhere with little advance buzz and relatively minimal promotion. Given the nature of the project, it's easy to appreciate the old school approach of making something great and trusting the audience to discover it and spread the word. It worked. This wasn't shoved down our throats or overhyped since there was simply no need. Known for taking chances on fringe programming that more mainstream networks tend to pass on, everyone involved likely shared the general idea that the Duffers had something special here. And did they ever.

When this season came to its spectacular conclusion I actually found myself upset that it was over, but equally concerned about what's next. These eight episodes were just so perfectly constructed and tightly paced that I almost want it to end now, fearing a second season could tarnish this. But you have to do it. There's simply no choice. The question is whether you literally take the anthology route by telling a whole new story or continue with this one? The ending leaves no doubt as to the decision and it's the right one.

The gang sticks together

There are moments containing genuine shocks and scares and others when the adventure is just plain fun. The tone's handled perfectly, with its creators realizing the goal wasn't necessarily to recreate the decade (though they do damn good job), but replicate our memories of watching movies and shows from that era. I suppose all those little details, but if someone asked me exactly how the Duffers managed it, I'm not sure it's even explicable.

It goes beyond the technicalities of being shot similarly, making the right wardrobe and set choices, or even writing authentic child characters. It's like they were able to hit this nostalgic nerve that's never been tapped before, making the show as much about us and the experiences we bring to it as what's on screen. In barren landscape of disappointing summer popcorn movies, Stranger Things is the best 80's summer blockbuster that isn't a movie or made during that decade. But good luck convincing yourself of that while watching.  

11.22.63

Creator: Bridget Carpenter
Starring: James Franco, Chris Cooper, Sarah Gadon, Lucy Fry, George MacKay, Daniel Webber, Cherry Jones, Kevin J. O'Connor, Josh Duhamel, Nick Searcy, Jonny Coyne, Tonya Pinkins, Gil Bellows
Original Airdate: 2016

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

There's always been this inherent problem in crafting any piece of entertainment around the altering an important historical event, especially one as controversial and heavily debated as the Kennedy assassination. For valid reasons it's rarely been attempted in either film or television, and the few times it has resulted in the material being handled with kid gloves, as if the creative forces at the helm were too afraid of tackling the event head-on, "changing" real history within a work of complete fiction. If altering too much brings with it accusations of exploitation and sensationalism, then anything short of that would be considered wimping out. This problem even affected the greatest time travel series, Quantum Leap, when the writers got an unusual case of cold feet when depicting the event in 1992's two-part season opener, "Lee Harvey Oswald."

11.22.63 on Hulu

Since the real conflict about attempting to stop the Kennedy Assassination lies in how far the writers are willing to go, it's only fitting that Hulu's original miniseries, 11.22.63, comes from the mind and pen of Stephen King. The author who's always had a problem with endings. And while he has a notoriously spotty track record with TV adaptations of his own work, it's to his and our benefit that this is a new era where the quality of these miniseries often exceed anything on the big screen, overseen by experienced showrunners that limit the need for King's creative involvement. With producers J.J. Abrams and Bridget Carpenter at the controls, this had as good a shot as any of his material at being a slam dunk adaptation. With the author's ideas usually working best as a jumping off point, it would be fascinating to see where they'd go with this, what they'd change or keep, and how the material could be condensed into 8 hour-long episodes.

With topnotch production design and direction, there's an urgency to the proceedings anchored by a phenomenal lead performance from an actor who initially seems miscast and an even better one from an actress who's career will undoubtedly skyrocket off the back of this. But most unexpectedly, the story transcends the assassination, with the event itself often successfully taking a backseat to the human drama and larger points made about society and the passage of time. It manages to go all in, taking a clear stand on the potential conspiracy and making no bones about the fact that our protagonist is there to physically stop this, regardless of the dangerous obstacles or consequences it would entail.

Jake Epping (James Franco), a recently divorced English teacher from Lisbon, Maine makes a stop into the diner of his good friend, Al Templeton (Chris Cooper), who offers him the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to travel back to the 1960's via a portal in the restaurant's storage closet. But this won't be a vacation, as Jake's job is to complete a herculean mission Al couldn't pull off himself: Preventing the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. In Vietnam vet Al's view, that murder set off a chain reaction from which the country never recovered, altering for the worse the course of his life and many others he's known. He's not only prepared a detailed file for Jake with background and instructions on how to accomplish this task, but primed him on how to first determine whether there was a conspiracy.

Jake and Al survey the evidence

After a sudden turn of events leads to Jake reluctantly accept Al's challenge and travel through the portal, his trip to the past becomes more complicated when he becomes attached to the past, forming a relationship with Jodie, Texas school librarian, Sadie Dunhill (Sarah Gadon). But with the clock rapidly counting down to November 22, 1963 and the past's unseen forces working against him, he must find a way to neutralize Lee Harvey Oswald (Daniel Webber) and uncover the former Marine sniper's connection to the C.I.A. before The President's motorcade travels through Dealey Plaza in Dallas.

Having only read the first few chapters of King's novel before deciding to return to it after viewing the miniseries, there aren't many side-by-side comparisons I'd feel comfortable making. But after similar openings there is supposedly a point where this version deviates heavily, cherry-picking certain key elements to build its own universe that can fill the running time. As he previously proved in his short story, The Langoliers (itself adapted into a 1995 miniseries) the author is, if nothing else, a brilliantly twisted "idea man" when it comes to time travel. If in that tale, traumatized surviving airline passengers wake to discover the vacant past has moved forward without them, King presents an equally compelling notion here of the past "pushing back," stopping Jake from changing it. In a way, that makes perfect sense since the entire notion of altering the past is built on upsetting the universe.

You could imagine that in the hands of lesser directors and screenwriters than Abrams crew, that this idea of the past striking back (let's call it "subtly posing obstacles") could turn into a disaster, with plot contrivances and supernatural interference galore. There's certainly some of that and the Jake character definitely makes the past's job a lot easier with some ridiculous decision-making, but isn't this the hallmark of most time travel entertainment? Still, even if irresponsibility from the traveler is a perquisite for the genre, Jake is very dense.

Jake Epping arrives in the 1960's

How much of the protagonist's carelessness simply services the needs of the story, is the past's doing, or qualifies as just plain sloppy screenwriting is open for interpretation, but Jake isn't exactly careful when he arrives in 1960, a full three years before the assassination. That arrival time and the fact he's allowed to go back through the portal and reset (or erase) what he's done are really the only rules here, since Jake goes about breaking every other one Al warns him about, his actions constantly threatening to create a "butterfly effect" in the future. He doesn't exactly keep a low profile.

Whether he's buying a flashy period car, dropping his iphone and future news clippings about the shooting, giving impromptu tours of Dealey Plaza or placing sports bets large enough to make Biff Tannen blush, it isn't out of the realm of possibility to consider Kennedy was probably fine before Jake arrived. The first few episodes do in fact recall Back to the Future in how we have a crazed Doc Brown-like character in Al roping Jake into this plan and the initial scenes of our wide-eyed protagonist awed by an idealized 1960's that looks and feels authentically warm and inviting. But this is Stephen King. It won't last.

Boasting some of the more impressive photography, costuming and production for Hulu, it's clear they spared no expense and every bit of it is on the screen. With these kind of projects being shortchanged so many times throughout the author's career, it's nice to see one finally treated with the pedigree it deserves. One of the most impressive moments of the series comes when Jake's walking the hallway as school banners subtly change to indicate a jump forward in time.

Jake and Bill wiretap Lee Harvey Oswald

Preventing this culture-shifting event and managing the investigation accompanying it is really hard work. So much so that at one point Jake basically throws his hands up in the air and gives up, turning his attention to preventing another traumatic event that hits closer to his home. That is until he's forced out of necessity to bring along an assistant of sorts and go back to Dallas to finish what he intended to start. That assistant is high-strung bartender Bill Turcotte (George MacKay) and while that character's role is supposedly expanded from the book, he does accomplish something important creatively.

Without a sidekick, it's likely viewers would be forced to watch Jake plan all this alone, talking to himself as we're punished by long, drawn-out voiceovers reciting endless passages of King's book. At least here he has someone to bounce off of and share the screen with and their interactions provide some of the series' biggest laughs, whether intentional or not. Jake just leaving him above Oswald's apartment to record everything he does for months at a time while he goes to work as schoolteacher is a particular highlight. While it's easy to quibble with where they eventually take the Bill character and his overall purpose, the series wouldn't be nearly as entertaining without him or McKay's loony performance.

The big question of whether James Franco can do anything or just simply chooses to do everything he can should occupy the thoughts of most watching. Could they have picked a more jarringly modern-looking actor to play a character transported to the 1960's? Maybe that was exactly the point, but before long, Franco proves he's capable of this too, throwing himself into everything the role requires. And it gets surprisingly ugly at times since Jake rarely thinks of anyone beyond himself, frequently losing sight of why he's there. It's fun watching Franco continue to grow into the part with each passing episode, and as more is asked of him, he turns in this great old school leading man performance that's bursting with humor and humanity.

Sarah Gadon as Sadie Dunhill

It's easy to see why Franco's character is so distracted since Sarah Gadon is nothing short of a revelation as  small town librarian and accidental witness to history, Sadie. As a living, breathing artifact from a different time, it's perfect casting, but the actress goes beyond nailing easily noticeable 60's details such as accent and manner to adding little details that make her feel like much more than a love interest or plot device. An argument can be made the entire story revolves around her, and while Franco's terrific, it's at least conceivable another actor could have played Jake, albeit differently. Gadon is irreplaceable, and without her, so much of what occurs in the last few episodes wouldn't carry nearly the same resonance.

The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent, right down to Daniel Webber's psychotically unhinged portrayal of Oswald, which straddles an uncomfortable line of moral ambiguity we haven't previously seen in cinematic depictions of the assassin. He seemingly alternates from sad to scary at an instant. In a memorable supporting turn an alcoholic wife beater, Josh Duhamel finds a part he seems born to play, channeling that aura of jock cockiness into a raging 60's bully with greased hair and rolled-up sleeves.

T.R. Knight follows suit as Sadie's husband, delivering a creepy, threatening performance that's not only a far cry from Grey's Anatomy, but feels most at home in the Stephen King universe. And while their characters undeservedly get the short end of the stick in the closing episodes, Nick Searcy and Tonya Pinkins respectively shine in their scenes as the Jodie High School principal and administrator. Despite top billing, a haggard-looking Chris Cooper has similarly brief screen time as Al, present mainly to deliver time travel exposition that informs the rest of the series.

Oswald (Daniel Webber) poses for an infamous photo

As the hours, minutes and seconds close in it only makes sense that the past would push back harder than ever, throwing obstacle it can in Jake's path. The physical manifestation of this resistance comes in the "Yellow Card Man" (Kevin J. O' Connor) who pops up now and again throughout the series to warn our protagonist about the futility of attempting to change the past. Supposedly, the book goes into further detail about him, but despite my worries that this would indicate the supernatural side of King's brain taking over the screenplay, that doesn't happen. It's handled pretty well. After numerous disasters and miscalculations by the bumbling Jake, it's not a spoiler to reveal Oswald does eventually sit at his perch on the sixth floor of southeast corner window of the Book Depository with boxes stacked, armed with his Carcano carbine rifle

Whether he it's Oswald who delivers the fatal shot, whether the fatal shot is even fired, how many shooters there are, and the potential ramifications for history should this event not occur, are all questions the writers had to ask themselves since viewers will undoubtedly be asking them too, before demanding answers. It's a tough spot to be in and one made even tougher by the fact that they're adapting an author who often struggles with satisfying conclusions and had the original ending of this novel thrown out and revised by his own son. Readers will feel strongly attached to how the miniseries should end.

And as far as King endings go, this one's far from a disaster. The screenplay overemphasizes the potential consequences of an alternate outcome that probably played better in book form, but it's still immensely satisfying, at least committing to an finale that goes beyond the nuts and bolts of the history-defining event. The result ranks somewhere between the middle to top tier of King adaptations, certainly leaving in the dust some of the more problematic offerings that have sullied the author's cinematic reputation in years past. There are points that feel rushed and you can almost tell without having read the novel what was shortchanged, but it's kind of amazing just how immersive 11.22.63 still manages to be in light off its inevitable limitations. It's one of the rare King adaptations that doesn't feel entirely compromised, creating an experience you could hardly consider a waste of time.