aka Stephen King's Kingdom Hospital
American author Stephen King took Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier’s eight episode miniseries, Riget (1994), turned it into a thirteen episode English language series and relocated it to Lewiston, Maine. There's sure to have been many other changes too, but since I've not seen the original I can’t say what they are. Von Trier shares an executive producer credit, suggesting he was agreeable to the adaptation or at the very least happy to whore the concept out.
Peter Rickman, the person we’d traditionally most readily identify as the main protagonist, is admitted to the titular hospital after a serious accident. An accident, incidentally, that mimics King’s own hospitalisation almost verbatim; although I suspect the talking anteater is very much fiction. Peter is a painter, not an author, but his onscreen role is similar to King’s background role: both men help rewrite a story as it happens from a point that's both distant and crucially central. Even though he's a key player, perhaps even the most important one, he’s only one part of a larger whole, one small element in the daily workings of the institution.
The building is modern but has foundations that extend backwards in time to the Civil War era. Before it was a hospital it was something else entirely, and before it was a place of saving lives it was a place where many lives were lost. Yes, it’s the old 'I built new shit atop some old shit and now the ghosts won’t leave me alone,' scenario. Part of what makes it different is the aforementioned talking anteater. It’s CGI but it’s really rather good considering it’s a TV production.
The show's appalling camerawork, direction and oddly placed music made me hate it. If not for Diane Ladd’s character, self-professed psychic Sally Druse, and the mystery surrounding the little girl pictured on the cover (Jodelle Micah Ferland) I’d have given up long before the end. Things do start to get better by episode four, but there’s so much wasted potential that it’s a struggle to make it that far.
A large percentage of the many subplots serve little purpose other than to extend the running time or increase the level of weird. More effort to make them a valuable counterpoint to the core story would've helped tighten the narrative.
The highlight of the whole endeavour is the opening credits that resemble a Dave McKean and JK Potter-esque hybrid of imagery that does eventfully have some relevance even if it appears not to for the longest time.
2½ jonesing rats out of 5
Peter Rickman, the person we’d traditionally most readily identify as the main protagonist, is admitted to the titular hospital after a serious accident. An accident, incidentally, that mimics King’s own hospitalisation almost verbatim; although I suspect the talking anteater is very much fiction. Peter is a painter, not an author, but his onscreen role is similar to King’s background role: both men help rewrite a story as it happens from a point that's both distant and crucially central. Even though he's a key player, perhaps even the most important one, he’s only one part of a larger whole, one small element in the daily workings of the institution.
The building is modern but has foundations that extend backwards in time to the Civil War era. Before it was a hospital it was something else entirely, and before it was a place of saving lives it was a place where many lives were lost. Yes, it’s the old 'I built new shit atop some old shit and now the ghosts won’t leave me alone,' scenario. Part of what makes it different is the aforementioned talking anteater. It’s CGI but it’s really rather good considering it’s a TV production.
The show's appalling camerawork, direction and oddly placed music made me hate it. If not for Diane Ladd’s character, self-professed psychic Sally Druse, and the mystery surrounding the little girl pictured on the cover (Jodelle Micah Ferland) I’d have given up long before the end. Things do start to get better by episode four, but there’s so much wasted potential that it’s a struggle to make it that far.
A large percentage of the many subplots serve little purpose other than to extend the running time or increase the level of weird. More effort to make them a valuable counterpoint to the core story would've helped tighten the narrative.
The highlight of the whole endeavour is the opening credits that resemble a Dave McKean and JK Potter-esque hybrid of imagery that does eventfully have some relevance even if it appears not to for the longest time.
13 episodes, approx 40 mins each (the first and last are double length).
2½ jonesing rats out of 5
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