by Josh Sewell
Stephen King’s epic The Stand is a formative novel for me. I tackled the 1,150-page behemoth for the first time when I was 13 and fell in love. The author’s self-proclaimed “dark tale of Christianity” set in a postapocalyptic America was his twisted spin on The Lord of the Rings. Only instead of hobbits, wizards and orcs, King gave readers a denim-wearing Dark Man, a benevolent old woman and the war between their followers.
I re-read it in my early 20s and appreciated King’s work even more thanks to an extra decade of life experience. It’s still the longest book I’ve ever read (King’s eight-part Dark Tower series eclipses that, but the novels aren’t standalone). I watched the four-part 1994 ABC miniseries with Gary Sinise and Molly Ringwald so many times I had it memorized, even though it was sanitized for network television. (As you can imagine, it’s terribly dated, but it holds up surprisingly well.)
So, with my bona fides – and, admittedly, my bias – established, I have to say that I was skeptical yet intrigued when I heard that CBS All Access was turning The Stand into a nine-part limited series. Sure, a streaming service would allow the adaptation to be more faithful to the book in terms of language and violence, but the track record for cinematic/television versions of King’s stories has been less-than-stellar.
The folks at CBS All Access were kind enough to send me screeners of the first six episodes, which means I’ve now seen two-thirds of the series, and I’m torn so far. It’s not awful by any stretch of the imagination, but almost every brilliant choice is undercut by a frustrating one that drains the narrative power from King’s story.
For those unfamiliar with The Stand, it kicks off with military scientists creating a deadly flu-like virus that wipes out more than 99 percent of the global population. In the U.S., the remaining survivors begin to dream about the evil Randall Flagg (Alexander Skarsgard, bland but fine) and the goodhearted Mother Abigail Freemantle (an underutilized Whoopi Goldberg).
Those drawn to Flagg (including characters played by Nat Wolff, Katherine McNamara and Ezra Miller) make their way to Las Vegas while Mother Abigail’s people (led by actors including James Marsden, Odessa Young, Jovan Adepo, Henry Zaga and Greg Kinnear) attempt to reestablish civilization in Colorado. However, a few of the characters (such as those portrayed by Owen Teague and Amber Heard) whose allegiance is up for grabs. It is through their machinations that the ultimate battle between good and evil begins.
First, the good news. Most of the casting is terrific, especially Marsden as Stu Redman; Adepo as Larry Underwood; Teague as Harold Lauder; and Kinnear as Glen Bateman. However, it’s Brad William Henke who stands out most as Tom Cullen. Without getting into spoilers, fans of the book and/or earlier miniseries know what a tricky role that is, but he knocks it out of the park.
Furthermore, creators Josh Boone and Benjamin Cavell, along with executive producer Taylor Elmore, make some terrific creative decisions to update King’s novel (originally published in 1978 and revised in 1990) to the modern era. There wasn’t a lot of diversity among the main characters in the original version, so it’s nice to see a cast that reflects what America looks like in the 21st century. A couple of supporting roles are also gender-swapped without making a big deal about it, which is a nice touch.
Plus, it’s a shrewd idea to make Harold a full-blown incel instead of a generic nerd and depict Glen as a middle-age stoner rather than an old man. It allows Kinnear to bring some welcome levity into the proceedings, but he doesn’t cross the line into silliness or stereotype.
However, there are a bunch of changes that left me scratching my head. The biggest one is using Lost-style time jumps to tell the story in a nonlinear fashion rather than chronologically. It’s a disastrous conceit that hobbles the series right from the start. Part of what makes King’s novel effective is the gradual onset of the apocalypse and the slow immersion into the supernatural elements.
Throwing viewers right into the middle of things undercuts those qualities in a big way. It kills any sense of narrative momentum and I imagine it makes the plot incomprehensible for anyone who hasn’t read the novel or watched the old miniseries. (I would buy a chronologically edited Blu-ray in a heartbeat.)
Without getting into spoilers, I also don’t understand why the showrunners make Harold Lauder the character we spend the most time with, while also eliminating any question of which path he’ll ultimately choose. In the novel, there was at least a little bit of a battle for his soul. Here, it’s a done deal from the opening scenes.
What’s more, as great as Teague is in the role, all the attention devoted to Harold means terrific characters like Fran Goldsmith and Nick Andros are completely shortchanged so far. In fact, after six hours, I still know almost nothing about anyone except for basic plot points. That’s baffling considering this version of The Stand is three hours longer than the previous adaptation.
Honestly, I was so frustrated by the series’ faults that I started to question my initial love for King’s novel. Perhaps I was thinking of The Stand through a nostalgia haze and it wasn’t as good as I remembered. I grabbed my copy well-worn copy off the shelf, thinking I’d read the first couple of chapters and put it back. A week later, I’m almost 500 pages in and committed to knocking out the whole thing. So, yeah – it ain’t the book’s fault.
I’ll see the series through to the end and hope for the best since I’m this far in, especially since the showrunners are teasing a new ending written by King himself. But if I’m being honest, I have to admit I’m bummed so far.
The Stand is rated TV-MA and contains language, violence and sexuality. Available on CBS All Access.
Grade: C+
I re-read it in my early 20s and appreciated King’s work even more thanks to an extra decade of life experience. It’s still the longest book I’ve ever read (King’s eight-part Dark Tower series eclipses that, but the novels aren’t standalone). I watched the four-part 1994 ABC miniseries with Gary Sinise and Molly Ringwald so many times I had it memorized, even though it was sanitized for network television. (As you can imagine, it’s terribly dated, but it holds up surprisingly well.)
So, with my bona fides – and, admittedly, my bias – established, I have to say that I was skeptical yet intrigued when I heard that CBS All Access was turning The Stand into a nine-part limited series. Sure, a streaming service would allow the adaptation to be more faithful to the book in terms of language and violence, but the track record for cinematic/television versions of King’s stories has been less-than-stellar.
The folks at CBS All Access were kind enough to send me screeners of the first six episodes, which means I’ve now seen two-thirds of the series, and I’m torn so far. It’s not awful by any stretch of the imagination, but almost every brilliant choice is undercut by a frustrating one that drains the narrative power from King’s story.
For those unfamiliar with The Stand, it kicks off with military scientists creating a deadly flu-like virus that wipes out more than 99 percent of the global population. In the U.S., the remaining survivors begin to dream about the evil Randall Flagg (Alexander Skarsgard, bland but fine) and the goodhearted Mother Abigail Freemantle (an underutilized Whoopi Goldberg).
Those drawn to Flagg (including characters played by Nat Wolff, Katherine McNamara and Ezra Miller) make their way to Las Vegas while Mother Abigail’s people (led by actors including James Marsden, Odessa Young, Jovan Adepo, Henry Zaga and Greg Kinnear) attempt to reestablish civilization in Colorado. However, a few of the characters (such as those portrayed by Owen Teague and Amber Heard) whose allegiance is up for grabs. It is through their machinations that the ultimate battle between good and evil begins.
First, the good news. Most of the casting is terrific, especially Marsden as Stu Redman; Adepo as Larry Underwood; Teague as Harold Lauder; and Kinnear as Glen Bateman. However, it’s Brad William Henke who stands out most as Tom Cullen. Without getting into spoilers, fans of the book and/or earlier miniseries know what a tricky role that is, but he knocks it out of the park.
Furthermore, creators Josh Boone and Benjamin Cavell, along with executive producer Taylor Elmore, make some terrific creative decisions to update King’s novel (originally published in 1978 and revised in 1990) to the modern era. There wasn’t a lot of diversity among the main characters in the original version, so it’s nice to see a cast that reflects what America looks like in the 21st century. A couple of supporting roles are also gender-swapped without making a big deal about it, which is a nice touch.
Plus, it’s a shrewd idea to make Harold a full-blown incel instead of a generic nerd and depict Glen as a middle-age stoner rather than an old man. It allows Kinnear to bring some welcome levity into the proceedings, but he doesn’t cross the line into silliness or stereotype.
However, there are a bunch of changes that left me scratching my head. The biggest one is using Lost-style time jumps to tell the story in a nonlinear fashion rather than chronologically. It’s a disastrous conceit that hobbles the series right from the start. Part of what makes King’s novel effective is the gradual onset of the apocalypse and the slow immersion into the supernatural elements.
Throwing viewers right into the middle of things undercuts those qualities in a big way. It kills any sense of narrative momentum and I imagine it makes the plot incomprehensible for anyone who hasn’t read the novel or watched the old miniseries. (I would buy a chronologically edited Blu-ray in a heartbeat.)
Without getting into spoilers, I also don’t understand why the showrunners make Harold Lauder the character we spend the most time with, while also eliminating any question of which path he’ll ultimately choose. In the novel, there was at least a little bit of a battle for his soul. Here, it’s a done deal from the opening scenes.
What’s more, as great as Teague is in the role, all the attention devoted to Harold means terrific characters like Fran Goldsmith and Nick Andros are completely shortchanged so far. In fact, after six hours, I still know almost nothing about anyone except for basic plot points. That’s baffling considering this version of The Stand is three hours longer than the previous adaptation.
Honestly, I was so frustrated by the series’ faults that I started to question my initial love for King’s novel. Perhaps I was thinking of The Stand through a nostalgia haze and it wasn’t as good as I remembered. I grabbed my copy well-worn copy off the shelf, thinking I’d read the first couple of chapters and put it back. A week later, I’m almost 500 pages in and committed to knocking out the whole thing. So, yeah – it ain’t the book’s fault.
I’ll see the series through to the end and hope for the best since I’m this far in, especially since the showrunners are teasing a new ending written by King himself. But if I’m being honest, I have to admit I’m bummed so far.
The Stand is rated TV-MA and contains language, violence and sexuality. Available on CBS All Access.
Grade: C+
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