Stephen King is the industry darling when it comes to movie adaptations. With over 50 of his works having been adapted so far—we literally have three films based on King’s works right this year, including The Dark Tower and Mike Flanagan’s upcoming Netflix Original film Gerald’s Game—filmmakers seem to have a massive fascination with his literature, wanting, either to deconstruct his dynamic view of human psychology, or to reinterpret them to various levels of success. It comes as no surprise, thus, for King’s It to witness the gradual transformation from miniseries to a major motion-picture.
The timing is shamefully unfortunate, however; the sophomore visual reiteration of the novel comes after the warmly received Netflix series Stranger Things, which, by the admission of its creators—Duffer brothers Ross and Matt—found “huge inspiration for the show” from King’s book. Unfortunate, because the show was influential and nostalgic, but more so for the possibility of viewers who’d be quick on their feet to call Argentinian director Andrés Muschietti’s (Mama) latest adaptation yet another Stranger Things.
Because it is not.
Muschietti’s sophomore effort follows the travails of trauma that affects children in its many lasting ways, and, almost poetically, couldn’t have asked for a better follow-up than It. Quite unlike the show mentioned above—which, in its right, was inspired, deliciously directed, and filled with nostalgic references to the good ol’ days—the film delves into the many demons the kids have to fight. From a victim of abuse to the unwitting recipient of their parent’s Munchausen syndrome by proxy, there are many facets covered, and each fear boasts a subtle detail that is as vivid as it is unnerving, especially to those that have faced a traumatic event of any kind.
The film might pack in scares aplenty, but the horror is not necessarily restricted to them; it is the acute observation of life from the perspective of children that makes all the difference.
As with his debut feature, Muschietti seems to have a rather sharp understanding of the adverse effects of tragedy and oppression on children. Driven by the powerful arsenal of knowledge, the makers authentically deconstruct the multifaceted steps Pennywise will take to render his prey vulnerable—from lowering your defenses to the final kill; there’s a surprising amount of nuance that could easily have passed for scary-clown-is-scary. Thankfully, this is not the case here. (Despite it, however, the symbolism behind it is incredibly restrained, so there is a high chance for a considerable section of the audience to pass it off as your friendly neighborhood jump-scare).
The maniacal antagonistic reinterpretation, however, could never have been as possible without Bill Skarsgård’s consistent performance. The intensity, deliriousness, and the overall deranged ambiance his existence in every scene causes is worth noting. The kids are not too far behind themselves. Finn “Poster-Boy-Of-Eighties-Horror” Wolfhard, Sophia Lillis, Jeremy Ray Taylor, and Jaeden Lieberher manage to shine brightly among the others, giving the insecurities their characters face a surprising degree of empathy.
The biggest surprise here though is Nicholas Hamilton as the bully, whom the makers construct with an overall awareness of where bullies come from, but also the other spectrum of what happens to a kid growing up in emotionally and physically abusive circumstances. This attention-to-detail and the many low-key decisions the makers take over the course of adapting makes It what it is. The film might pack in scares aplenty, but the horror is not necessarily restricted to them; it is the acute observation of life from the perspective of children that makes all the difference.
Moreover, this is precisely why It needs to be seen—it is visceral all right, but not in the way you would expect. The eponymous dancing clown sure is scary, but what will terrify viewers the most is just how relatable and borderline painful the childhood trauma (caused, more often than not, by the people in their own families than strangers) is, and how dangerously lasting the implications are. Recommended.
