Film Editor Matt Taylor revels in the psychological horror and cinematography of Stephen King’s ‘Castle Rock’, but finds no solace in its conclusion
It feels as though we’ve been swamped with Stephen King adaptations in the past few years, be they on film or television. Some have been successful (It, 11.22.63), and some less so (2017’s The Dark Tower springs to mind). With all these adaptations going around, it feels extremely bold of King to craft an original story – yet that’s what he’s done with Castle Rock, a Hulu original psychological-horror series. The show exists inside King’s pre-existing multiverse of tales, yet spins an entirely new story for its premise. To his credit, the first season of the anthology series is a near-perfect success on just about every possible front – which is why it feels all the more devastating when the lacklustre ending rolls around.
The setting for the show is the eponymous town of Castle Rock, and it follows the character of Henry Deaver (a magnificent Andre Holland), who returns to the town he grew up in when a mysterious, unidentified young man is discovered underneath Shawshank prison and will only speak to Henry. Upon his return, mysterious events begin to besiege the town, and Henry is left to try and unravel the web of intrigue and deceit that has been in place for nearly thirty years. Sound ‘King’ enough for you? Excellent – it very much is.
The show is the very definition of a ‘slow-burner’; there is very little in the way of actual plot movement until episode four (out of ten), but there is more than enough intrigue to hold our attention. Plenty of story threads are introduced early on, many of which may disappear for an entire episode – but that’s something that shows one of the series’ many strengths: its ability to keep us both captivated and frustrated, many times in the same moment. Rather than being an out-and-out horror, Castle Rock is more quietly unsettling than many of King’s previous horror works, but that ultimately plays to its favour; it never reveals its cards too soon.
Of course, with a show as slow as this one, the audience needs something to keep them coming back – aside from the intriguing plot. In this instance, that takes the form of the show’s superb cast. Andre Holland leads the pack as Henry Deaver, a lawyer who is haunted by the death of his adopted father that happened when he was a child. The town blames him for his father’s death under the mysterious circumstances, so when things in the town start to go awry, suspicion naturally arises around him. Holland is beautifully human in the role, inspiring both our empathy and hesitation in equal manner; Henry is not a perfect man – he’s just trying to do his best. Opposite him is Bill Skarsgard, whose character is known only as ‘The Kid’. Fished out of a cell in an abandoned wing of Shawshank prison, we know next to nothing about him, and that is where much of the plot’s intrigue comes from. The man who imprisoned him claims The Kid to be evil incarnate, but we’re never quite sure; Skarsgard is undeniably creepy for much of the show’s runtime, always leaving us wary of his character and guessing what his motivations may be. The rest of the cast includes Sissy Spacek, Scott Glenn, Jane Levy, Melanie Lynskey, Noel Fisher and Adam Rothenberg, and, while many don’t get quite as much to do as Holland and Skarsgard, each gives it their all, inspiring pure humanity in whatever way their character demands, be it warmth, empathy, or suspicion.
The show also carries a superbly intense atmosphere. The end credits of each episode almost feel like a sigh of relief, as though we’ve spent the past 45 minutes holding our breath, and have finally been given permission to exhale. Part of that atmosphere comes from the show’s crew (executive producer JJ Abrams’ Lost roots feel ever-present), and part of it comes from the atmosphere the show brings with it. One of the show’s most interesting aspects is the way it feels like King saw Twin Peaks: The Return and decided to make a response to it. This season plays out like an homage to The Return, with similar levels of intrigue and mystery, and the sense that there is something extremely wrong with the very fabric of this town, something that turns good people cruel, violent, and uncaring. Castle Rock itself almost feels like a secondary character, like the monster we’re searching for but cannot see, always lurking, waiting for the moment to strike and carry out its evil deed, in the same way that the town of Twin Peaks feels very wrong without the presence of Dale Cooper. Episode nine furthers this idea – a mysterious town full of messed up people doing messed up things, but always rooted in some form of humanity.
That is perhaps one of the show’s greatest strengths; its undeniable humanity. For all its creepy goings-on and the supernatural/other-worldly powers of The Kid, Castle Rock is always rooted firmly in its inhabitants. This is never more evident than in episode seven, aptly titled ‘The Queen’. It is by far the best episode of the season, indeed it is one of the best hours of television in years, and yet it has almost nothing to do with the main plot of the series. It centres on Sissy Spacek’s Ruth Deaver, Henry’s mother, who lives with undiagnosed dementia. The episode takes a deep dive into her past, revealing much about her, Henry, and Henry’s father in the process in one of the best on-screen depictions of dementia I have ever seen. Spacek sells the entire episode perfectly: she has to, as she plays a younger Ruth in nearly every moment of the flashbacks, but she unsurprisingly knocks it out of the park. Up until this point Ruth hasn’t had a lot to do, but a whole episode devoted to her goes a long way to fixing this. The episode is the best of the season on a technical level too, showcasing some gorgeous transitions and camera work as we move through Ruth’s various memories that have become intertwined with one another as her mind deteriorates. I would happily watch this episode again on its own; it is haunting, intense, tragic, moving, and beautiful, with an ending that will absolutely floor you.
Sadly, the same cannot be said for the ending of the season as a whole. After nine episodes of build-up, of intrigue, of frustration, of engagement, the ending simply falls apart. A mystery show such as this hinges on its ending (in the same way that the aforementioned Twin Peaks does), but Castle Rock fails to pull it off convincingly. For all the deliberation that has gone into the show so far (the references to other King works are innumerable and extremely deliberate, and the plotting feels perfectly paced to climax in the finale), the ending itself feels lazy and rushed. Much of the body of the finale itself is superb; it does everything a finale should, and does it well. The main conflict comes to a head around five minutes before the end of the episode, and those final five minutes are among the most frustrating five minutes of television I can remember seeing – and not in a good way. We are never shown the climax of the conflict, no answers are given, and we are left feeling extremely let down. The first two of those are not an issue when done in the right way (The Return is a fantastic example of how to deliver an ending that is both deeply unsatisfying yet perfect), but we are left with the feeling that all of this has been for nothing. Granted, the journey was an excellent one – but think how good it would have been if they had stuck the landing.
Even despite the quality of the ending, it’s hard to deny everything that Castle Rock does right. It perfectly melds intriguing and fascinating world-building with engaging characters and a fantastic production value, all of which results in the series feeling like King’s own version of Twin Peaks – all the bigger shame, then, that the ending is no good at all.
Rating = 4/5
Some more articles you might like…
Comments