What both adaptations of Stephen King's "IT" failed to capture about the novel, and what the show "Derry," does.

Hint: It was never just the clown.

Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

There is no doubt that both Tim Curry and Bill Skarsgård did fantastic jobs bringing one of Stephen King’s most well-known monsters, Pennywise, to life on screen. Both actors gave stellar performances and, in my humble opinion, will forever be remembered as two of the greatest monster portrayals of all time. However, both adaptations of “IT” left me deeply disappointed, because they focus almost entirely on the mythical monster.

Tommy Lee Wallace’s 1990 adaptation, guest-starring Tim Curry, has a few shapeshifting moments. However, thanks to the technology available back then, the monster forms IT takes are almost comical in appearance. Ben’s mummy is little more than a coffee-stained skeleton. Richi’s werewolf looks the way you’d expect a 1990 film monster to: like a costumed man in a poorly made, hairy mask. The worst part, though, is that the mini-series nearly glosses over the human aspects, giving us rare glimpses into Henry Bowers awful character and little else. Admittedly, there is one point in the series where Beverly recalls a man walking away from her when she is assaulted by Henry and his gang, but this is late in the series, and hardly any focus is given to it.

Andi Muschietti’s 2017 and 2019 adaptations starring Bill Skarsgård are a little better. There is a lot more of Pennywise, of course, but there is also more of the monsters IT morphs into, including Richie’s Paul Bunyan statue, a Pennywise version of the final Spider-monster, and a film exclusive: that super-creepy woman painting that comes to life and attacks Stanley. Let’s be real for a second: If I had to face the thought of going back to face that as an adult, I might check myself out, too. A lot of people might say that technology made it possible for more of Pennywise’s monsters to appear on film, but I think it was more than that. Muschietti really tried to capture the essence of IT and, in some ways, succeeded.

In Andi’s films, we also see more of what makes Derry terrifying. The homophobically motivated murder of poor Adrian Mellon at the beginning of IT Chapter Two comes to mind, and we see much more of Henry Bowers, his crazy friends, his abusive father, and, of course, Beverly’s crazy, borderline pedophilic father. The problem, of course, is that Pennywise is a central theme to nearly all of these characters.

But here’s the thing: “IT” was about so much more than a terrifying, shapeshifting clown.

One of Stephen King’s greatest strengths as a storyteller is his ability to portray human monsters as far more terrifying than mythical ones, and there is no better example of this than in his 1986 novel “IT.” The story is full of some of the most horrific examples humanity has to offer, and the films hardly scratch the surface.

Andi’s adaptation hints at it, but the real horror of IT lies in how IT has twisted the town itself. Derry is a horrible place. Haunted by IT, yes, but just as IT feeds off of Derry’s children, the residents of Derry feed off of IT, and this doesn’t just happen when the monster is awake. Derry is monstrous while IT is asleep, too.

Mike Hanlon, Derry’s resident head librarian and local researcher, points out a terrible statistic to the members of the Losers Club: The rate of violent crimes and child disappearances is several times higher than any other city of comparable size in America, even during IT’s sleep cycle. Derry attracts bad people the way a Seven-Eleven slushie attracts ants.

Patrick Hockstetter, for example, isn’t just a bully, as he is portrayed in Muschietti’s films. He is a serial killer in the making, a young teenager without morals and an extremely limited emotional range who kills insects and animals for fun, and killed his infant brother. He is blind to others' feelings and thinks he is the only real thing that exists. He is a true narcissistic psychopath.

At one point in the novel, Beverly Marsh is chased by her crazy father, out of her mind with terror, because he is likely going to kill her, but when Derry’s residents see her in this state and hear the threats her father is screaming, they laugh. In fact, no one seems to really see any of the children in their final flight to the sewers. It’s as if they’re already dead. They will be the sacrifice needed to put the monster back to sleep.

There are child abusers, spousal abusers, extreme homophobics, homophobic cops, organized racists, killers, and other types of horrible people that feed off Derry. That is what makes the novel so much more terrifying. There is nowhere safe because not only has IT infected their families, but it also has a supernatural hold on the entire town. There are human monsters everywhere, and they serve IT, too.

Not that there aren’t good people in Derry. There are plenty, but even the good ones will occasionally succumb to IT’s will, if only by turning a blind eye to the horror unfolding around them. Both adaptations do try to capture this concept, but in my opinion, they fall well short.

I’ve seen many a critical comment about HBO’s new show, Welcome to Derry. They don’t get certain facts right; they’ve changed elements that aren’t true to the novel; they've made up an origin story, etc. But what they do get right is the spirit of Derry. The monsters walking among us in human form, happy to see a fellow human suffering. The protagonists of the show are in a constant state of dread, never knowing if they will be eaten by IT or suffer at the hands of other humans. There is hope, of course. There has to be hope for any horror media to be successful. There is laughter and joy, but they are sparse, dispensed grudgingly like Scrooge handing out a Christmas bonus. And that is the true spirit of Derry.