American Horror House (2012)

After watching American Horror House, I initially thought that it was made by young filmmakers who, after having watched one too many horror movies, decided to make their own horror movie as a calling card to the movie industry.  From its over reliance of dutch angles and point of view shots to constantly referencing better horror movies, American Horror House has film student written all over it. Therefore, it was a bit of shock when I found out that both its director (Darin Scott) and screenwriter (Anthony C. Ferrante) have been in the business for quite some time and have been churning out this kind of schlock their entire careers. I’m fairly lenient towards young, inexperienced filmmakers struggling to make a scary movie, but these men seem fairly content in cranking out lazy, by the numbers horror movies (Ferrante is probably best known for directing the Sharknado movies). 

American Horror House has the exact same structure as the original Friday the 13^th: a pre-credit murder scene, followed by an introduction of a female character (that I label the sacrificial lamb), and then the introduction of the film’s main protagonist. Though, in Friday the 13^th, the character of Annie was sort of misdirection; we initially assumed that she was the main character of the piece, so when she is murdered twenty minutes into the movie it was a genuine shock. The Annie counterpart in American Horror House, Marylynn, doesn’t have the same effect.  Annie, despite her limited screen time, was a genuinely likable character and had an appealing personality, while Marylynn barely registers as a character. She is first seen running across the campus on her way to a violin lesson, unaware that she is actually running towards a gory end.  After Marylynn is diced into pieces by possessed violin strings, we are finally introduced to our heroine, Daria.  

There are two problems with Daria: despite being the main character she is only in about a third of the movie and, more importantly, she makes incredibly stupid decisions. Granted, the dumb heroine is a staple in most horror movies, but Daria is supposed to be super intelligent and badass.  When the bodies start piling up rather than flee from the sorority house, Daria stays because she is determined to get into the sorority. That’s right – our main protagonist, who is supposed to be such a free spirit, main motivation is to get accepted into a stupid sorority (even though she is treated like garbage by the sorority sisters).  Alessandra Torresani isn’t terrible in the role, but she doesn’t exactly elevate the material, either. Though, even the best actresses would struggle with this role; there really isn’t much substance to the character. 

There is also an inexplicable subplot about a private detective trying to find Marylynn. The dumbass stumbles around the campus for nearly an hour only to be killed by Marylynn’s ghost in gruesome fashion.  This subplot might have been effective had there been some ambiguity over Marylynn’s fate, but the movie tips its hand right off the bat. As a result, the private detective is just mere filler. He has no actual function in the story and could have easily been written out. 

American Horror House, like most bad horror movies, often violates its own rules in a cheap effort to build suspense. It is established throughout the movie that ghost have the ability to teleport, yet in the movie’s climax, when the two remaining survivors are trapped in the attic, the ghosts rather than teleport into the room instead try to break down the door. Why? At one point, the generic male love interest fights off a ghost with his fists.  Which begs the question: Was this always a ghost story? It often has the feel of a zombie movie, especially during its final minutes. Did it start out as a zombie movie, or are the filmmakers just lazy? I vote the latter. 

Of course, the main selling point of American Horror House is its gory special effects. The problem with gore effects is that they have become so common place on television that they have lost their ability to shock. In the 1980s, splatter movies were something you rented as a dare.  You were considered a brave soul if you made it through a movie like The Evil Dead and were the subject of ridicule if you chickened out.   The gore effects in American Horror House are often achieved through bad looking CGI, so rather than being “shocking” or “disgusting,” they are just laughable. It makes for a great example on how not to make a horror movie.  

Credits

Cast: Morgan Fairchild (Morgan Fairchild), Alessandra Torresani  (Daria), Jackie Tuttle (Colleen), Dave Davis (Lloyd), Salina Duplessis  (Sarah), Cameron Deane Stewart (Derek), Sarah Ellis Smith (Marylynn), Gralen Bryant Banks (Detective Hammond), Isabel Cueva (Miss Pena), Sydney Spies (Missy), Carol Jean Wells (Rosemary), Jennie Kamin (Riley), Ashton Leigh (Tish), Ramona Tyler (Sandy Adams), Cait Taylor (Kaylee).

Director : Darin Scott
Screenplay: Anthony C. Ferrante
Running Time: 83 min.

Strangers Things 2 (2017) [SPOILERS]

When it was announced that Netflix was renewing Stranger Things for a second season, fans breathed a sigh of relief, and then started asking questions? Would Eleven be coming back? What was the deal with Will? How in the hell could Nancy choose Steve Harrington over Jonathan?  However, the most important question was: Would it be any good? It goes without saying that expectations for season two were exceedingly high and I’m happy to say that it doesn’t disappoint.  Stranger Things 2 is, thankfully, not merely a rehash of the first season and does a nice job of expanding the characters and story line. It isn’t without its flaws, but I’ll get to that later.

When I posted on Stranger Things least year, my review focused entirely on the relationship between Mike and Eleven, largely because I felt that these two characters were the “heart and soul” of the  season one (plus I was amazed by  Finn Wolfhard’s and Millie Bobby Brown’s onscreen chemistry).  In season two, however, both characters are sidelined for a good portion of the series.

Mike begins the series as a shell of his former self; he is no longer the effervescent leader of the Hawkins AV Club, but rather a sulking teenager who is antagonistic towards the world.  He is openly hostile to the character of Max and resents her wanting to be a part of the group; she is a poor substitute for Eleven. This characterization of Mike has led to a lot of online criticism, most notably by Angie Han in her article for Mashable,"What Was the Deal With Mike Wheeler in 'Stranger Things 2'?"  Han writes the following:

 Outside of his friendship with Will, though, Mike leaves much to be desired. He spends much of the season missing Eleven, and while it makes sense that this young man would be traumatized by the loss of his friend, it mostly manifests onscreen as whining and moping. He snipes at most characters who aren't Will and is downright hostile to Max, going out of his way to exclude her because they "don't need another party member."

It's a jarring shift from the boy who welcomed Eleven with open arms last year. Maybe that's the point. In context, though, it makes Mike seem petty and small, as if he begrudges his friends the opportunity to find love. Or as if, like the show itself, he struggles with the concept that more than one girl character can exist simultaneously.

This is entirely true, but it also ignores a huge plot point - Mike actually plays a significant part in defeating the monster in season two.  Earlier in the article, Han writes, "In season 1, Mike just wasn't part of the gang - he was the guy, around whom much of the action revolved." Except in episode eight, where Mike is given very little do;  he can only stare helplessly as Eleven sacrifices herself to save her friends from the Demogorgon. In fact, after the bike chase that opens episode seven, Mike essentially spends the rest of the first season on the bench. Sure, we are given that charming scene where he kisses Eleven, but that's about it. In the final episode of season two, Mike is not content with just sitting on the bench and hoping for the best; he is going to do whatever he can to assure a safe return for Eleven.  It is Mike that comes up with the actual plan to clear a path to gate for Eleven and Hopper. It is also Mike that  gets the ball rolling in coming up with a plan to defeat the Mind Flyer.  And it is Mike that comes to the realization that Will is "the spy" and needs to be incapacitated. By the end of the season two, Mike is once again "the guy." Yes, he starts out as a mopey teenager, but eventually is restored to his former self. It is called a character arc.

Eleven, like Mike, is filled with angst and desperately wants to contact Mike, but is forbidden by Chief Hopper.  When Eleven was with Mike she genuinely felt like she belong somewhere, however life with Hopper is akin to being in a prison.  Hopper has hidden Eleven away in a remote cabin, but forbids her from venturing outside and making any contact with the outside world.  Hopper is certainly a far more benevolent figure than Dr.  Brenner, but he is still her jailer. The way Hopper takes care of Eleven is in sharp contrast to the way Mike looked after her.  In season one, Mike instilled Eleven with a sense of values (Friends don’t lie; a promise is something that can’t be broken; and more importantly, undying loyalty) that allowed her to grow as an individual.  Hopper, on other hand, makes her abide by three rules (keep the curtains drawn, keep the door shut unless she hears his secret knock, and never go out alone). While these rules exist to insure her safety, they don’t really offer much in terms of individual growth; in fact they actually restrict her growth, because they put her in a constant state of paranoia. It isn’t surprising that she eventually begins to resent Hopper. It’s hard to live a full life when you are only told what you CAN NOT do.

While many might object that the show waits eight episodes to reunite Mike and Eleven, I think it was the right call by the Duffer Brothers. If they bring Eleven back into the fold too early, then there’s a good chance that the Mike/Eleven relationship completely overwhelms the narrative, thus giving little room for the rest of the characters to develop. The idea of doing a sequel is to expand the characters and the universe, that would be pretty hard to do if Stranger Things 2 is yet another season of Eleven going on adventures with the boys. The Duffers achieve this by essentially removing Eleven from the narrative and having Eleven go on an adventure of self discovery. It also allows for Mike to have a character arc instead of going through the exact same journey as the first season. Plus, if Eleven is reunited with Mike earlier in the season, their kiss at the end of episode nine has far less impact.

There’s been a huge divide among the fans over episode seven “The Lost Sister,” that revolves completely around Eleven’s attempt to contact Kali; another one of Dr. Brenner’s test subjects who managed to escape the laboratory. There are people that argue this episode isn’t necessary and is merely filler; while others resent it because it isn’t their “version” of Stranger Things, which apparently revolves around Eleven having adventures with the boys. I think this episode is absolutely necessary, because it’s where Eleven’s values are put to the test.  Eleven takes a bus to Chicago and finds that Kali is the leader of a punk gang that dabbles in crime. Kali wants to use Eleven in to seek out vengeance against all the men that wronged them; her philosophy is very simple – get your enemies before they can get you.

Much like Hopper’s three rules, Kali’s world view is extremely limited and can only result in a violent end. Kali represents what Eleven could have become had she not met Mike.  Eleven is tempted by Kali, but can’t bring herself to commit cold blooded murder. Eleven only kills in self defense or when her friends are being threatened; it’s completely different than breaking into a person’s house and killing him without an ounce of remorse. Especially since said guy (a former orderly of Brenner’s) isn’t really much of a threat.  It’s only after this descent into hell that Eleven realizes where her true place lies.The uglier Eleven's journey becomes the more nostalgic she (and the audience) gets for her time with Mike and the boys. I understand the backlash against the episode, because other than Eleven, the characters are completely unappealing. It is also humorless, which makes it seem longer than it actually is. I'm sure most fans will skip this episode when they rewatch season two.

Mike and Eleven have less than five minutes of screen time together, but Millie Bobby Brown and Finn Wolfhard sure make these brief moments count.  When they are reunited at the end of episode eight, it’s extremely difficult to hold back the tears.  It is amazing how this brief moment can still have such an emotional impact; given that we know minutes in advance their reunion is about to happen.  The gang is under siege by the Demodogs and are trapped in the Byers home; suddenly a Demodog is thrown throw the front window and is killed instantaneously. We know Eleven is about to make her grand entrance and seconds later she walks through the front door, looking all bad ass. Yet, upon seeing Mike, her bad ass exterior melts away and we are shown her more vulnerable side. The looks on Mike and Eleven’s faces says everything - this is the first time in the entire second season that these two characters experience genuine joy.  It is also fitting that it isn’t until Eleven sees Mike that she is able to smile. There’s a point of view from Eleven’s perspective and the camera slowly pans across the characters until, finally, Mike emerges from behind Hopper.  The camera zooms in a Mike, thus isolating him from the rest of the characters – turning it into personal moment between Eleven and him.  She smiles at him and he smiles right back. Sure, it's paying service to the fans, but it is an incredibly effective moment. 

There is an interesting theme throughout Strangers Things 2 that good intentions often lead to bad results. Hopper is not a malicious man and he genuinely cares about the welfare of Eleven, but by forbidding her to contact Mike he has done considerable harm to both of their psyches. It also turns Eleven into a ticking time bomb; it's only a matter of time before she is going to explode. The longer Hopper keeps her away from the Mike the angrier she become. At a certain point Hopper should have realized that reuniting Mike and Eleven would be worth the risk, because it's only possibly way to diffuse the situation.  Again, Hopper's intentions are good, but his approach towards raising Eleven is completely unhealthy; her only contact with the outside world is the television. When Hopper takes it away, she naturally flips out.  Her diet consists of TV dinners and Eggos; not exactly a nutritionally balanced meal. Hopper’s “hard love” approach towards Eleven works for a while, but once she rebels there is very little he can do about it. David Harbour, needless to say, is excellent. While Hopper has a tough exterior, he is vulnerable on the inside. His tough act is his way to trying to hide the pain of losing a daughter. He is overprotective of Eleven, because he doesn't want to lose another loved one. The irony being that he nearly drives her away permanently (and to a life a crime) because of his inability to loosen the leash.

The other example of good intentions gone awry is Bob’s advice to Will. Bob is a nice, well meaning man who is completely clueless to the danger Will is in; he naturally assumes that these visions Will has experienced are nightmares.  Therefore, he reasons that the best way to stop these nightmares is for Will to stand his ground and tell his tormentor to go away. Unfortunately, Will’s tormentor is not a nightmare, but a living, breathing entity.  Steve’s advice to Dustin for getting girls also falls under this category of good intentions gone bad. Steve tells Dustin the best way to get girls is to act indifferent and to have a great hair do. Dustin takes this to heart and goes to the Snow Ball with a new, big hair do, and a devil may care attitude, and is completely rejected by the girls at the dance. He sits alone and finally realizes that this tactic might work for Steven Harrington, but not him. Thankfully, Nancy comes along to lift his spirits.  

This leads me to my favorite part of Strangers Things 2 – the pairing of Steve Harrington and Dustin. Joe Keery and Gaten Matarazzo make for a wonderful double act. The great thing about this relationship is that while the two of them are polar opposites – Steve is a jock and Dustin is a nerd – they still manage to form a deep bond with one another. They often speak in analogies that neither of them understand (Steve uses sports terminology, while Dustin makes gaming and scientific references). Yet, despite all of this Steve becomes like an older brother to not only Dustin, but the rest of the gang – in episode nine he is the unwitting ringleader of the group and is hijacked into being their protector. Steve may talk tough, but you get a sense that he would willingly risk his life to protect these kids. It is a great, and totally unexpected, piece of character development for this character. Hell, if season three consists entirely of Steve and the gang fighting evil, I will be entirely satisfied. 

In a span of a few episodes, Steve went from being my least favorite character to one of my favorites. It is amazing how a season can change your perspective on a character; in season one I liked Jonathan and was indifferent towards Steve, now it is the exact reverse; I like Steve but find Jonathan to be fairly boring.  The Steve/Dustin pairing is also a good showcase for how to effortlessly incorporate humor into an otherwise serious show; the humor springs from the character’s reactions to one another and feels natural to the story. It’s easy to believe that a socially inept nerd like Dustin would seek dating advice from cool guy Steve Harrington.  He goes from being a dumb jock to essentially being the “Brand” of Stranger Things.  In The Goonies, Brand is Mikey’s older brother who becomes the reluctant guardian of Mikey and his friends.

I can’t make a reference to The Goonies without bringing up Sean Astin as Bob, Joyce’s boyfriend and manager of the Radio Shack.  At first glance, Bob comes off as being a complete dweeb.  He is kind hearted, but he is still a total dweeb. Jonathan fails to understand what his mother sees in Bob, but it’s really not that difficult to understand why Joyce would date him – Bob is a nice guy, with a stable job, and genuinely wants to do the right thing.  He also accepts Joyce and the baggage that comes with her. He attempts to bond with Jonathan and Will, and when the shit hits the fan he is still by her side.  He is the total opposite of Joyce’s ex-husband, Lonnie – who is a self serving douche bag.  Winona Ryder and Sean Astin don’t exactly light up the screen with chemistry, but that’s not really what this relationship is about. 

In true Stranger Things fashion, we begin to realize that there is more to Bob than meets the eye and that he is braver than he, and the audience, ever expected.  The casting of Sean Astin is a bit gimmicky – a symbolic passing down of the torch from Mikey of The Goonies to Mike of Stranger Things. It is no coincidence that it is Mike who eulogizes Bob and is determined to preserve his legacy as “founder of the AV Club.” Bob is a genuinely likable character and  when he is killed off in an unceremonious fashion, it feels like a slap in the face.  It’s seems doubtful that Joyce genuinely loved Bob, but it is clear she was fond of him, and feels slightly responsible for his death. Can Joyce ever catch a break?

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Noah Schnapp’s heart wrenching turn as Will. In season one, Will is missing for most of the story and his limited screen time didn’t give the young actor much to do.  In Stranger Things 2, Will is, essentially, possessed by the Mind Flayer and as the season progresses his humanity begins to fade away.  There are scenes where Schnapp has to not only play Will, but also the Mind Flyer as well and he is genuinely creepy in these moments. One moment he’s a preteen boy desperately calling out for help, the next he is an ancient evil that is hell bent on destroying the world. 

The other pairings in the show, Jonathan/Nancy and Lucas/Max, didn’t really interest me as much.  After season one so much fuss was made by the fans about “Justice For Barb” that the Duffers gave in and made this into an entire subplot – Nancy and Jonathan are determined to blow the lid off the Department of Energy which has the town of Hawkins in its grip.  They naturally go to a conspiracy theorist, Murray, for advice, after having successfully recorded Dr. Owens into admitting the Department’s complicity in Barb’s death.  This subplot is less about “Justice For Barb” and more about consummating Nancy and Jonathan’s complicated relationship.  Brett Gelman as a Murray is a bit too much for my taste (this is an example of forced humor).  

The pairing of Lucas and Max is cute, that is really the only thing I can say about it. Both Caleb McLaughlin and Sadie Sink are first rate performers, but they don’t exactly light up the screen the way Finn Wolfhard and Millie Bobby Brown do (but then again very few child actors do).  Still, it is fun to watch Lucas bungle his way around Max in the early going and steadily gain confidence as their relationship grows.  The best  thing about Max is her willingness to call out the boys on their bullshit and hold her own when things take a turn for the worse. I’m sure there were fans hated this character (“SCREW MAX! WHERE’S ELEVEN?) but I thought she was a nice addition to the cast.  I’m also glad the Duffers refrained from turning Max into a potential love interest for Mike – NO MORE LOVE TRIANGLES, PLEASE! I already had enough with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve. 

Then there’s Dacre Montgomery as Max’s abusive stepbrother, Billy.  He is the human villain of the piece and Montgomery is wonderfully vile in the role. As my sister put it so eloquently Billy is, “the perfect douche nacho from the 80s. Down to the creeper mullet.”  He has little regard for human life (he nearly runs the boys with his car) and is more interested in his looks than he is in making in friends.  In many, Billy represents what Steve was in danger of becoming had he not changed his ways.  Steve was fairly douchey in season one and a downright bully at times, but he saw the error of his ways, and redeemed himself in the end. I never really bought the transformation, but I applauded the Duffers for subverting the dumb jock stereotype.  Even Billy isn’t entirely one dimensional; he lashes out at Max and his friends because his father lashes out at him. It is one long vicious cycle.

There are few things I genuinely disliked about Stranger Things 2. In season one, I thought Joe Chrest (as Ted Wheeler) was the weakest link in the casts; his bumbling, over the top characterization seemed more fit for a Zucker brothers movie than a science fiction series. Unfortunately, he’s far worse in Strangers Things, because not only is Ted clueless, but extremely lazy to boot. There’s little substance to this character and he is the type of comic relief stumbling block that popped in old horror movies. It is also unfortunate that the character of Karen Wheeler has been reduced to a caricature of a frustrated house wife – she spends her time gossiping on the phone and reading trashy romance novels while taking a hot bath. The scene where she openly flirts with Billy is cringe worthy and is at odds the character we saw in season one. Also, where is baby Holly? Is she destined to be the Chuck Cunningham of Stranger Things? The sibling that mysteriously disappears and is never mentioned again. 

I also hate the writing in the scene where Billy and Steve get into a fight, because the boys just stand around and DO NOTHING. I felt this was a complete betrayal of the characters? Are these the same boys we have been watching for the last two seasons? You know the same boys that were willing to take the Demogorgon head on (even if was in futile fashion); that just seconds ago were devising a plan that put their lives at risk so they could buy Hopper and Eleven sometime. Remember when Mike jumped off a cliff to save Dustin? Yet, when Steve is getting beaten to a bloody pulp by Billy, they stand aside and scream at the top of their lungs.  The Hawkins AV Club that I know would have done something here, like a group rush Billy and pin him to the ground, or throw objects at the mullet wearing asshole.  This scene drove me nuts! I get that it’s supposed to be about Max finally standing up to her stepbrother, but it comes at the expense of the boys.

The writing is a bit contrived a times; the one day that Eleven decides to disobey Hopper and visit Mike at the school she immediately stumbles upon him having a conversation with another girl. Seriously? Of course Eleven stumbles upon this scene mere seconds after Mike and Max were having a conversation about her. It's a bit of stretch. 

What really separates Strangers Things from other science fictions shows (most big budgeted movies) is the warmth these characters have for one another. They are all flawed individuals that often made bad decisions, but they are filled with compassion. It's really  that "small" moments (like Steve giving pointers to Dustin, or (in season one) Mike gentle assuring Eleven that she is "not the monster") that has ingratiated the series to so many fans. Let's hope the Duffer Brothers remember this when season three comes along. The last thing I want to see is Strangers Things turn into a mindless action series where characters shout stupid catchphrases while battling a CGI atrocity.


Credits
Cast: Winona Ryder (Joyce Byers), David Harbour (Chief Hopper), Finn Wolfhard (Mike Wheeler), Millie Bobby Brown (Eleven/Jane), Gaten Matarazzo (Dustin), Caleb McLaughlin (Lucas), Joe Keery (Steve Harrington), Natalia Dyer (Nancy Wheeler), Charlie Heaton (Jonathan Byers), Noah Schnapp (Will Byers), Sean Astin (Bob), Sadie Sink (Max), Dacre Montgomery (Billy), Paul Reiser (Dr. Owens), Linnea Berthelsen (Eight/Kali), Brett Gelman (Murray), Aimee Mullins (Terry Ives),
Amy Seimetz (Becky Ives), Cara Buono (Karen Wheeler), Joe Chrest (Ted Wheeler).

Directors: Matt & Ross Duffer, Shawn Levy, Andrew Stanton, Rebecca Thomas.
Writers: Matt & Ross Duffer, Justin Doble, Jessie Nickson - Lopez, Kate Trefry.
Nine episodes (55 min)

It (1990)

There is a tendency among horror fans to scoff at the 1990 miniseries of It. This is largely due to the fact that the miniseries is an extremely watered down version of the popular Stephen King novel. It maintains the basic premise of King’s novel – six childhood friends reunite as adults to face an evil entity (that often takes the form of Pennywise the Clown) they banished nearly thirty years ago – but it lacks any real bite. It is a movie that is at odds with both diehard Stephen Kings and modern days audiences simply for the fact that it isn’t scary (nor gory, for that matter).  Yet, in the fall of 1990 it was a miniseries that no one dared miss – it was a huge talking point in my fifth grade classroom. I had not read the novel at this point in life (I was eleven and didn’t have the patience for an 1100+ page novel), so I had no idea where the movie was headed. When part one ended with Stanley Uris committing suicide in his bathtub, I was genuinely unnerved by this turn of events. The movie already killed off one of its main protagonists and it was only halfway over. What horrors would I witness in part two? Seriously, as dated as this movie is, this is still one hell of a cliff hanger. 

It’s really hard to explain to younger, modern audiences (who are exposed to gore on regular basis with shows like Supernatural) just what a big deal It was in 1990. It came out in an era when prime time television had to be suitable for the entire family (this was before the TV ratings system had been established). Therefore many of King’s more interesting ideas had to be discarded to make way for scares that while “frightening” weren’t too disturbing. It was common for all the local stations to air horror movies on Saturday nights, but cut out content that was deemed too violent and sexual; which means that King’s story was whittled down to its most basic plot structure.  In the novel, young Eddie first encounters “It” in the form of a leper, who offers to give Eddie a blow job. In the miniseries, Eddie’s first encounter with “It” occurs in the school shower room – the shower heads come to life and converge on Eddie, but he escapes completely unscathed. Pennywise then pops up from the drain and taunts Eddie – end of scene.  This is pretty weak moment, and is too reminiscent of the scene in The Goonies when the plumbing in the country club goes haywire, but it’s a case of the filmmakers doing the best they can with the restrictions placed upon them by the network.  However, in 1990 it was a bit jarring to this level of gore in a made for TV production (Billy’s family album leaking out blood, blood erupting out of Beverly’s bathroom sink, and an eyeball popping out of a fortune cookie).  This type of gore was a fairly tame to horror fans, but to an average viewer just wanting to check out something on the tube, this was pretty strong stuff.  Ironically, the Andy Muschietti version, despite having better special effects and more gore than its made for TV counterpart, is also fairly tame compared to more contemporary horror movies.  In fact, there is nothing in the new movie that you couldn’t find in an average episode of Supernatural or American Horror Story. That being said, the Andy Muschietti version is still an improvement on the 1990 miniseries (well, at least Chapter One is, I can’t speak for the upcoming Chapter Two). 

The TV mini-series is really a case of two halves – the first half, dealing with the Losers Club as children facing It is actually fair well done and entertaining, it’s the second half that is the problem (Tommy Lee Wallace admits as much in his commentary). Stephen King structures the novel so that it jumps back and forth between the 1950s and 1980s, so that while the characters are having flashbacks the reader is also being fed new information.  The first half of the movie follows this structure, after receiving the phone call from Mike Hanlon that It has returned, each grown up member of the Losers Club have a flashback to when they first encounter It. Wallace will often use match on action editing as way of bridging the present with past – for instance, a close up of an adult Ben biting his thumb nail is replaced with a close up of a young Ben biting his thumb nail. It’s an extremely effective way of not only linking the two time periods, but also matching the adult versions of the Losers Club with their younger selves. In the novel, Stephen King uses what I call a literary dissolve to link the two eras – whenever the novel transitions to the past the text will initially be in italics before settling to a normal font. It’s an effective way of easing the reader into a different time period. The second half of the miniseries, with a few exceptions, discards the flashback structure and as a result we are constantly being fed information that we already know. The entire middle act of part two is the characters gathering together in various rooms and sharing their memories of the past.  At one point, just before a commercial break, the characters decide to move to a different location so they can do even more talking.  It doesn’t exactly make for a compelling cliffhanger. It becomes fairly redundant and only the re-introduction of the bully Henry Bowers keeps it from slipping into complete boredom. It doesn't help that midway through the movie, Richie Tozier manages to find time to do a stand up comedian for the rest of the Losers Club. Aren't they supposed to be forming a plan to defeat It?  The actors do their best, but they are nearly defeated by the material. Interestingly, the 2017 adaptation drops the flashback structure entirely and is told from the perspective of the Losers Club as children. Honestly, I would be perfectly fine if the studio skips making a Chapter Two, because the adult portions are easily the weakest part of the Stephen King novel.  The story is absolutely magical when it centers on the children bonding together to fight It, but nearly devolves into melodrama when they return as adults.

  

 This will be a pretty unpopular opinion, but Stephen King is simultaneously one of the best and worst writers I have ever read (often in the same book).  He is an absolute master at setting up a premise and phenomenal when it come to character development, but then he will throw the most mind numbingly awful subplot that completely grinds the story to a halt. In the novel of It, Bill’s wife, Audra (an actress) senses that her husband is in danger and rushes to his rescue (despite being in the middle of a movie shoot).  She is immediately abducted by Beverly Marsh’s abusive husband, who is under the influence of Pennywise the Clown.  This turn of events is supposed to raise the stakes of novel, but it is completely undermined by the fact that Audra barely registers as a character.  In fact, Bill is completely oblivious to Audra’s plight (he is having an affair with Beverly while this takes place) that it does little in terms of upping the stakes. There’s really no time element at work (“We must destroy IT or else Audra will die”) and Audra is completely forgotten about until the very end.  The Audra story line is merely filler and could have easily been cut from the novel.  The movie, unfortunately, retains the subplot (sans Beverly's husband) and Audra is even less of a presence here than she was in the novel.  She has less than ten minutes of screen time and half of that is her in a comatose state, and she doesn’t exactly ingratiate herself to us with her nonstop whimpering.  Olivia Hussey is a fine actress, but she is completely ill served here. 

The best thing the mini-series (and the Muschietti version) has going for it is the terrific cast (with the exception of Hussey). The children are terrific, especially Jonathan Brandis as Bill. The character of Bill spends the entire half of the movie haunted by the death of his brother, Georgie, and has vowed to get his revenge on It. He is the leader of the group and Brandis does a great job projecting inner strength, despite Bill’s physical impediments.  Surprisingly, in the 2017 version, Jaeden Lieberher actually improves upon Brandis’ interpretation of the character by giving a genuinely heartbreaking performance. 

The adult cast are not as compelling and are fairly uneven in their performances; Dennis Christopher as the nebbish Eddie Kaspbrak stands out, but Harry Anderson is a bit much as the grown up Richie Tozier.  Tim Curry steals the show as Pennywise the Clown. There are people that complain that Curry isn’t scary enough as Pennywise - they often point to the scene when Pennywise taunts a grown up Richie in the library as proof. Except that It in the form of Pennywise isn’t meant to be scary but rather unnerving.  If It wanted, it could probably kills the Losers Club at any given minute, but rather It chooses to toy with them in the form of Pennywise because It genuinely enjoys playing the role of monster. In the novel, It takes the form of classic monsters like the Wolf Man the Teenage Werewolf the Mummy, not because they are scary, but rather popular icons of horror. When It takes the form of Pennywise the Clown, it engages in silly antics because that’s what clowns do.  In 2017 version, Bill asks the question, “What if this monster is eating kids because that’s what we’re told monsters do?”  Tim Curry’s scene chewing maybe silly, but is absolutely appropriate for this movie.  I also find it believable that Georgie would be fooled by this incarnation of Pennywise than Bill Skarsgard’s take on the character; mainly because Skarsgard is overly creepy from the very get go. Why would Georgie would take time to talk him instead of running away is a mystery to me?  On the other hand, Curry’s Pennywise convincingly puts on a mask of friendliness that it is easy to buy Georgie falling into his trap. 

While I enjoyed Andy Muschietti’s version of It, there was a part of me that missed the 1950s setting of the novel (the 2017 version is set in 1989). The Fifties are much better suited to the themes of Stephen King’s novel.  It was a fairly optimistic time in America’s history and all the everyday horrors were hidden below the surface.  There’s a scene in King’s novel 11/22/63, where the protagonist travels back to 1958 and comes across a WHITES ONLY sign - a harsh reminder that this era wasn’t the paradise it seemed to be.  In It, the town’s children a disappearing at an alarming rate, but the citizen’s of Derry turn a blind eye to it. They go on with the daily business like nothing bad is going on. On the outside, Derry has a pleasant appearance, but underneath its shiny surface there is pure evil going on.  

(SPOILER SECTION)
Finally, I would remiss if failed to mention how the mini-series of It has one of the greatest anti-climatic endings in TV history.  For nearly three hours, we are shown just how tricky and funny Pennywise the Clown is – he constantly plays tricks on the protagonists so they are unable to distinguish fantasy from reality – and then it’s time for the final showdown and It takes the form of a…..giant spider….a really crappy looking giant spider. In the novel, the showdown between the Losers Club is more on a metaphysical plane, in the mini-series our heroes defeat it by pushing it over and ripping out its guts. The actors do put on their best “scared” faces, but the giant spider prop is one of the silliest things ever shown on television – it looks like a refugee from the Colin Baker Era of Doctor Who.

Credits
Cast: Richard Thomas (Bill Denbrough), Harry Anderson (Richie Tozier), Annette O’ Toole (Beverly Marsh), John Ritter (Ben Hanscom), Dennis Christopher (Eddie Kaspbrak), Tim Reid (Mike Hanlon), Jonathan Brandis (Bill – age 12), Seth Green (Richie – age 12), Emily Perkins (Beverly – age 12), Brandon Crane (Ben – age 12), Adam Faraizl (Eddie – age 12), Marlon Taylor (Mike – age 12), Ben Heller (Stanley – age 12), Richard Masur (Stanley Uris), Tim Curry (Pennywise), Olivia Hussey (Audra), Michael Cole (Henry Bowers), Jarred Blancard (Henry – age 14), Tony Dakota (Georgie Denbrough), Sheila Moore (Mrs. Kaspbrak), Gabe Khouth (Victor Criss), Michael Ryan (Tom Rogan), Frank C. Turner (Al Marsh), Chris Eastman (Belch), Chelan Simmons (Laurie Anne Winterbarger), Florence Paterson (Mrs. Kersh), Merrily Gann (Mrs. Winterbarger), Steven Hilton (Mr. Denbrough), Sheelah Megill (Sharon Denbrough), Laura Harris (Loni).

Director: Tommy Lee Wallace
Teleplay: Lawrence D. Cohan, Tommy Lee Wallace. Based off the Stephen King novel.
Running Time: 187 min.