Kingdom Hospital (2004)

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.

13 episodes, approx 40 mins each (the first and last are double length).

2½ jonesing rats out of 5

Stephen King’s The Shining (1997)

A TV miniseries directed by Mick Garris, based on Stephen King's 1977 novel of the same name. It's essentially the story of a family forced to confront the underlying feelings that threaten to tear their already not very happy home apart. The addition of a supernatural aspect turns the process dial up to dangerous levels.

Jack Torrence (Steven Weber), a struggling writer, ex-alcoholic and regular screw-up takes a job as caretaker of a remote hotel that's routinely closed over the winter months. He brings his wife, Wendy (Rebecca De Mornay), whose over-protectiveness of their seven year old son, Danny (Courtland Mead), is justified somewhat because young Danny has a gift, or a curse depending on your point of view: he can sense emotions, danger and even occasionally see the future.

The quiet, creative retreat for three that Jack was hoping for turns out to be more eventful than he'd predicted. The Overlook Hotel has many ghosts and they'd just love to get to know the Torrence family better.

The teleplay was written by King, so all the little things carry over in a natural way, such as Jack telling people what he thinks they want to hear because it helps him stay in the game; the accusatory glances and subtle, snide remarks orchestrated to recall lingering guilt; a mother's jealousy of the bond between her son and his undeserving father; and the changing mannerisms of each family member as the story progresses and obsessions take over.

The boiler room gets the attention it deserves; the actual boiler being symbolic of the raging monster inside of Jack, building in force until the pressure is so great that it needs to be manually released or the whole thing will explode. Jack's fury is vented in much the same way. He needs to 'blow off steam,' as the expression goes, or his anger will consume him.

The biggest change to the story is during the finale; questionable coda aside it's not radically different from the original but it's been rewritten, making it tighter and more interesting. It's one of the things that help keep everything from falling foul of the usual third act plummet in quality.

I'm not going to add to the 'which filmed version is best?' debate other than to say if you want an unsettling, finely-crafted cinematic vision then the Kubrick film fits the bill, but if you'd rather see a more faithful adaptation of the novel, with intricacies of character intact, then the miniseries will provide it. If you're open to the possibility of one thing evolving into two uniquely different things, get both.

3 episodes, approx 90 minutes each.

4 party invites out of 5

Under the Dome: Season One (2013)

I am so very, very bored of 'edgy' US dramas, but I'm a huge fan of sci-fi and a sucker for a Stephen King adaptation despite their tendency to have a great build up and then fall flat on their ass in the latter half. Under the Dome bucks that trend by falling flat on its ass even earlier. It kills off the most interesting character in the first episode and leaves the chaff to pick up the slack, meaning that from episode two it drags its shitty heels through the corn.

It's (obviously) the story of a town trapped under a dome. What that means for the people within differs depending on their ability to cope with disaster, the unknown and the depravity of the secrets they want to keep hidden. Their focus is on getting out, but the story's focus is on exploring the inner aspects of each individual and the community as a whole.

It's an interesting premise and a great starting point from which to build something that branches out in many directions but remains centralised by circumstance. It's a shame the makers didn't capitalise on it well enough. Instead, they milk it like a weary tit until there's nothing left but to throw in arbitrary events that may or may not matter in the grand scheme of things. If they do matter, it's because someone decided they liked the idea and wrote something new, not because the core plot demanded it.

A medium sized cast of regular clichés keep you mildly irritated. There's the army veteran with a violent past; a hateful investigative reporter who pokes her nose up everyone's ass; an enthusiastic female police officer who's as thick as two planks nailed together; a semi-genius teenager; a shady politician that only has two emotional states; and a few others that I don't care to remember. None of them are the least bit interesting, but the cast is only a small part of the reason it's so tedious. The bullshit scenarios that are supposed to increase the tension are forced and unrealistic. The ease with which people give in to suggestion is laughable. The amateur acting (especially those kids) is painful to watch.

It cost approx $3 million dollars per episode to make. Just think about that for a minute. $3 million dollars! Christ knows how, why or where the money went.

13 episodes, approx 43 minutes each.

1½ cows out of 5

Salem's Lot (1979)

SL isn't the first Stephen King miniseries review on Nut Box, but chronologically it was the first ever adaptation from one of his books, so I guess we should blame it for starting the ball rolling. It was originally planned as a film, but someone clever at WB decided that due to the source text's length (400+ pages), it would make a better miniseries. Subsequently, as if to prove that respectful thinking and good ideas aren't the same as good business, some cretin butchered it, turning it from a two-part series running 184 minutes into a single theatrical cut running just 112 minutes. That's 72 minutes of footage missing if you go for the theatrical cut! My review is of the longer 184 minutes version.

It's the story of a man and a place, Ben Mears and the titular Salem's Lot. Ben (David Soul - the blond half of Starsky and Hutch), grew up in the town before moving away and becoming a fiction writer. He's the Lot's very own golden boy.

Childhood experiences shape the adult we become, so it's because of Salem's Lot that Ben is Ben, but he can't resist the urge to unravel the mystery of those early years. Doing so could shake the very core of why he's the inquisitive pain in the ass that he is, but Ben doesn't care, he simply wants to know if the house on the hill is the resting place of evil that he always believed it was.

The house has stood cold and empty for many years, but has recently been reoccupied. Hooray for convenient King plot devices.

What follows is a slow-build vampire story that explores the idea of what might happen if the creatures of legend actually existed and occupied small town America; Maine, of course.

Despite the orchestrated pacing of the story there's a distinct lack of unease or panic most of the time. There are a few exceptions, though. A small handful of scenes are genuinely creepy; they're unforgettable once seen and have become highly influential. Good work, Tobe Hooper.

The same drawing from the past that influenced the story is used in the aesthetic of the F. W. Murnau style creature design, which is good for a TV production. As is the music, which occasionally has a slight Hermann/Hitchcock aura about it.

Ultimately, it's a flawed attempt to modernise a classic genre but isn't without its eerie charms if you're not averse to late 70s TV production values.

3 window peepers out of 5

The Tommyknockers (1993)

TV miniseries based on Stephen King’s 1987 novel of the same name. It’s a little unusual for King because it’s Science Fiction, not Horror. More accurately it’s a throwback to the kind of stories that were plentiful in the 1950s, with some additional ideas from the 1970s; both of which were eras when sci-fi had something important to say. The main difference is that this version of King’s story has very little to say about anything as far as I could tell. If there was some deep, hidden message then I missed it.

The set-up is why I continually return to these cheap TV adaptations, even though they rarely ever work out. The potential that exists as the story opens and the ways in which King builds drama, by drip feeding the viewer just enough interesting content to keep them in their seat, is always the best part. When it focuses on the effects more than the cause, it’s enjoyable. That enjoyment is both heightened and tainted by the most prevalent unknown factor: when exactly is it all going to turn to shit? The third act? Twenty minutes before the end? Experience says that 'never' is rarely an option. Tommyknockers keeps it together longer than I’d imagined it would, or maybe I'm just more forgiving of something that was so deeply referential to the kind of stories I loved as a kid.

Coincidentally, alongside the classic era sci-fi structure is something akin to a kid’s television drama from the 1980s. That wasn't such a surprise. There’s almost always a reference to childhood concerns in King’s work. It’s not just homage, it’s a nostalgic longing that forms part of the makeup of his characters and quite often it enriches them. In Tomyknockers it’s the parents that dig up something mysterious in the forest, have a secret adventure and hide their new discovery from the townspeople.

It’s not a miniseries that’s bursting with story. I could easily give you the entire plot in one sentence with all the subplots in one additional paragraph, but that doesn't mean it’s dragged out for length. There are enough interesting moments to make it worth watching for a fan of the author or a fan of classic era sci-fi in general. Just be prepared for a traditionally lame ending.

2 episodes, approx 90 minutes each. There's also a heavily cut 120 minutes edition, so check the running time of your version before you watch.

2½ becommings out of 5

The Langoliers (1995)

TV miniseries based on Stephen King's novella from the book Four Past Midnight (1990), adapted and directed by Tom Holland. There's no Mick Garris this time.

Imagine waking in a room that had been filled with people before you went to sleep, but is now almost empty. You'd be slightly concerned. Imagine that room is actually an aeroplane cabin and the plane is still in the air. You'd be very concerned. That's the basic setting of The Langoliers.

Part One introduces the characters and sets the template for the way they interact. King's stock types clash with one or two that aren't instantly recognisable. There are ten people in all, meaning there's plenty of opportunity for conflict to arise. Being confined the way they are forces them to open up emotionally and reveal their secret, hidden selves.

The dialogue never sounds naturalistic; it sounds homogeneously scripted at all times. It doesn't take long to realise that all your attention should be focussed on what the characters say, not how they say it. They aren't just actors, they're players in a play that has a stage much bigger than the norm. Of course, that's just one way to look at it. You could take the opposite approach and say that it never feels real and that no one actually talks like that in real life. It's up to the viewer to decide. People who love the art of storytelling should understand. People who just want to be entertained, without needing to explore the mechanics of a thing, will likely find it lacking in any kind of value. I'm okay with that. Viewers that don't turn it off after twenty minutes are the people it was made for.

Part Two deepens the mystery. It continues the same level of ambivalence and frustration for the players. The danger level never really reaches threatening proportions, but the idea of the danger, the unknown factor just beyond the horizon, is really intriguing. It feels like an extended episode of The Ray Bradbury Theatre or The Twilight Zone. You want to get to the end of it but not too quickly because you know the tension is the best part.

Part Three is a disaster. Why do these kinds of things always fall to pieces in the third act? When the credits roll there's been character growth but the consequences of the actions taken to get there are weightless. With the exception of one individual, I got the feeling that five minutes later the survivors would go back to their lives and forget all about their time together.

3 episodes, approx 60 mins each (also available as 2 episodes, 90 mins each).

2½ flat beverages out of 5

The Stand (1994)

TV miniseries based on Stephen King's novel of the same name. It was a lengthy novel (either 823 or 1152 pages, depending on which version you have), so a miniseries made a lot more sense than a regular feature length movie.

I haven't read the book yet, so I can't comment on casting or get upset about how faithful it is (or isn't), but the teleplay was written by King himself, so I'm going to assume the characters are at least pretty close to his original text.

It's a traditional story of Good Vs Evil. The battleground is America (just when you thought it was safe to go back to Maine!), and the armies are the survivors of yet another unimaginative post-apocalyptic event.

It's split into four feature-length parts. Parts I and II were good. The many characters each get time to develop; it helps if you're already familiar with King's method of character building, because you'll recognise the types.

It was during the first half that I got to thinking that TV is where Mick Garris should be focussing his efforts, but then Part III happened. With everyone in their proper place and motivations established it was time to get to the meat of the story, but things started to unravel. A weighty action is undertaken that serves no purpose other than to enable a quick fix to be pulled out of thin air in Part IV. Did it make sense in the book? If so, then it lost that sense when it made the jump to film.

By the time Part IV got underway the situations were becoming ridiculous, the motivations unnatural, and the pace, which should've increased and become more critical, slowed to a soupy crawl. Both the story and the production quickly plummeted. It turned into a steaming pile of religious shit stacked as high as the hill of Golgatha, with a neon sign atop.

4 parts, approx 90 mins each (366 mins in total inc. credits)

2 biblical failures out of 5

Stephen King's Rose Red (2002)

There's something about Rose Red that I really like. It's a Stephen King miniseries that doesn't suck. Perhaps the reason is it wasn't adapted from a book; it was written by the author specifically for the screen and then revised over time to fit the extended format.

It's a traditional haunted house story built around a rich and intriguing history inspired by real life events, or at the very least real life fiction. It creates, and for a long time sustains, a suitably uneasy atmosphere that keeps the viewer attentive even during the lengthy exposition scenes. It's only in the last half of the third part that it begins to fall back on the cheap-shot, shock scares that any fool with a camera can do.

There's a large cast of characters, but King is experienced enough to give each of them their own space in the narrative. Two thirds have some kind of psychic ability, and while one or two do feel like they were included simply to offer commentary from a different perspective, he gives each one a unique personality and uses them to reinforce the story at opportune moments throughout. If they've nothing constructive (or confrontational) to add to a scene, they're pushed into the background so they don't intrude.

The house itself is also a character. The anachronistic hybrid of classic and experimental architecture sets it apart from the surrounding environment; it's as if the world outside decided it didn't want Rose Red any more, so it turned its back on her. But she didn't go away. She endured. She festered. She got hungry.

King started revisions on the script, originally intended to be a movie, shortly after his near-death accident. It was around that time that he began to more forcibly try to connect all his fictional works into one cohesive whole, meaning fans of his writing will see similarities and subtle references to earlier works.

3 episodes, approx 80 minutes each.

A prequel TV Movie called The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer was made in 2003 but it wasn't written by King. You can read about it HERE.

3½ dormant cells out of 5