Editorials
Here’s Why ‘Split’ is the Wrong Target for the Mental Illness Debate
We’ve written a handful of articles about M. Night Shyamalan’s Split here on Bloody Disgusting in the past week, and that’s because, well, it’s our duty to talk about this stuff. We posted two reviews, one written by Trace Thurman and the other by Jimmy Champane, and we also dug into a few problems with the film: I wrote about its final act issues, while Chris Webster had a problem with the protagonist. For the most part, issues aside, we all agreed that Split is a damn fine horror film, and we’re incredibly happy to see it reigning supreme at the box office.
A win for original horror is a win for us all.
But one aspect of Split we haven’t yet dug into is the single most talked-about and controversial aspect of the whole damn thing. From the very moment the first trailer hit the net, many were concerned that Shyamalan was furthering harmful stigmas about mental illness – the film centers on a madman with the very real Dissociative Identity Disorder – and countless think-pieces have hit the net in the wake of release. Personally speaking, I’ve had several debates about this very topic on social media, and now that I’ve had a week to really think hard about the film, I wanted to write my own piece.
Contrary to many, I found Split to be anything but insensitive on this particular front.
Now mind you, I don’t personally suffer from any form of diagnosed mental illness, so if that somewhat negates my opinion on this whole issue, I totally understand. It’s hard to be taken seriously when talking about something that doesn’t directly impact you yourself in any real way, so believe me, I get it. If people who do suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder have taken issue with Split and its depiction of it, I take that very seriously and consider that there must be something to that whole argument. So please know that I’m not disregarding anyone’s opinion, but merely stating my own.
One major issue with the argument against Split, however? I’ve spoken with a handful of active members of the mental health community who feel the film is harmful, stigmatizing and totally insensitive… but they haven’t actually seen it for themselves. They’re basing that opinion on trailers, plot descriptions, and articles they’ve read online; in other words, they never gave the film a chance to prove their hunches wrong. Many decided to boycott based on the trailer alone, which I take issue with for one big reason: Split, contrary to whatever you may have ascertained from the trailer, is a film that actually treats mental illness with a welcome degree of care; furthermore, it depicts those who suffer not as less than, but as more than.
There’s an entire sub-plot in Split, away from the main storyline centered on three young women locked up in a basement by James McAvoy’s mentally unwell Kevin, that’s all about Kevin’s doctor, Karen Fletcher. Played by Betty Buckley, Fletcher is Kevin’s psychiatrist, looking out for and protecting him after everyone else has discarded him. Many have criticized the sub-plot for making the film drag in parts and ultimately taking away from what’s really compelling about the story, but Dr. Fletcher’s storyline is incredibly important when debating the film’s ethics.
Fletcher’s theory on Kevin and others who suffer from his disorder is that they’re more advanced than the rest of us, having unlocked the true power of their brains and, essentially, becoming superhuman as a result of their incredible life traumas. There’s even one scene where Fletcher explains this theory to a classroom via Skype, and the scene seems to exist for the sole purpose of Shyamalan letting us know that he’s actively NOT trying to paint mental illness in a negative light. You could argue that the scene is unnecessary to the actual plot of the film, but it’s there nonetheless, and it’s there for a reason. Those with D.I.D. are not “broken,” Shyamalan is telling us, but rather “more than” the rest of us.
And this idea plays heavily into Split‘s final moments, which I won’t spoil for anyone who hasn’t yet seen the film. Shyamalan hits home the idea that our various traumas and mental illnesses make us stronger and perhaps even “purer”; and if you’re asking me, he ultimately sends a very empowering message to those who, like Kevin and Casey, may feel broken and cast aside by society. Granted, he doesn’t quite hit that ball out of the park (the film feels like its lacking a final scene necessary to really tie everything together and make it all resonate), but he tries. And his positive message, to me at least, was very clear.
Jimmy Champane felt the same way in his aforementioned review. He wrote:
On the topic of the criticism Split has drawn on its villain using mental illness as a catch-all excuse, I personally think Shyamalan treats the disorder with care. A not-so-subtle undertone of the film focuses on Kevin’s therapist’s struggle to bring Dissociative Identity Disorder as the key to unlocking the potential of the human brain – and it works. Additionally, the way Shyamalan carefully uses Casey’s past as a tool to show why she’s able to keep a cool head and outsmart Kevin’s different personalities shows that he went the extra mile to delicately show his respect for those struggling with mental illness.
Yes, many horror films do depict the mentally ill as crazy, broken madmen, and though Split‘s antagonist is indeed a villain who does some awful things, there’s something way more going on just beneath the surface. Shyamalan clearly had something to say with Split, and though you may take issue with the way he went about saying it, I ask you to at least consider that he was trying, like few filmmakers actually have, to not depict mental illness as something we ought to be afraid of. And I also ask, to those who have judged it without seeing it, that you at least give it a chance.
An important issue to raise, but Split is the wrong target.
Editorials
How ‘Weapons’, ‘Hokum’, and ‘Widow’s Bay’ Continue Stephen King’s Horror Legacy
After fifty years of continuous writing, Stephen King has become a genre unto himself.
The unrivaled Master of Horror made a splash in 1974 with his debut novel Carrie and has been terrifying readers ever since. Two years later, Brian De Palma brought this shocking story to the screen with an equally electrifying horror film that remains a genre classic and a prototypical example of “Good For Her” horror. This dual debut seemed to open the floodgates, unleashing endless waves of Stephen King films.
From the highs of Misery, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption to the schlocky fun of Cat’s Eye, Creepshow, and Children of the Corn, the last five decades have seen just about every notable horror creator take a stab at the author’s massive collection.
In recent years, this singular subgenre has begun to burst at the seams, expanding to include Stephen King-esque fare. In 2016, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer debuted Stranger Things, a sci-fi series heavily inspired by two of King’s most famous books. The Netflix series remixes Firestarter and It by following a little girl with psychic powers and an intrepid group of kids on bikes who must battle an otherworldly foe and a sinister government agency. With its clever blend of modern effects and comforting nostalgia, this gateway horror series paved the way for Andy Muschietti’s It adaptation which remains the highest grossing horror film of all time.
Four years later, Mike Flanagan would create Midnight Mass, a spiritual adaptation of King’s second novel Salem’s Lot. Published in 1975, the book sees a tiny New England town torn apart by a centuries-old vampire. Though Flanagan’s story is perhaps more tender, both iterations of the classic horror tale follow close-knit communities shaken to their core by the presence of an ancient evil.
In addition to these recent hits, 2025 was a banner year for the Master of Horror. Audiences delighted in six mainstream adaptations, including the massively popular It: Welcome to Derry which chronicles earlier cycles of the titular clown’s reign. With this boost to King’s cultural cache, it’s no surprise that we’ve begun to see more unofficial adaptations of the author’s work and horror creators who build their own unique castles in King’s creative sandbox.
So what defines a Stephen King-esque story?
For the past fifty years, the prolific author has dipped his toes in nearly every subgenre from supernatural stories and grisly gore to western fantasy and science fiction. Including his vast catalogue of short fiction, King has tackled ghosts, demons, werewolves, zombies, aliens, mutants, and self-driving cars, not to mention bizarre monsters of his own creation. But what truly unites this vast array of horror is King’s focus on relatable characters. In his 2000 memoir/instructional text On Writing, the prolific author describes the amusement he finds in writing disparate characters, placing them in horrific scenarios, then exploring the ways they try to survive.
An unofficial Stephen King adaptation may take place in the author’s native New England — bonus points if it’s set in Maine — and reference his well-known heroes and villains. But what makes the King connection unbreakable is a character-driven story about average people who band together in the face of abject terror.
Weapons Captures Small Town Stephen King

Following his 2022 shocker Barbarian, Zach Cregger returned with Weapons, a sprawling story that begins in a doomed elementary school. On an otherwise ordinary day, Justine (Julia Garner) arrives at her desk to find that all but one of her students have disappeared. As the mystery grows increasingly violent, Justine and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of a missing boy, find their way to the home of Alex (Cary Christopher), the class’ only surviving student. In some ways reminiscent of Salem’s Lot, Weapons swings wildly through the unfortunate town, introducing us to its flawed inhabitants as we watch their lives fall apart.
Cregger’s setup nods to a pair of King short stories. Both “Suffer the Little Children” and “Here There Be Tygers” tackle monstrous presences in elementary schools, but as Weapons reaches its final act, Constant Readers may remember another Stephen King tale. Featured in his 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “Gramma” introduces us to George, a little boy tormented by an aging witch. On an afternoon alone with his sickly grandmother, the frightened child gradually realizes that the imposing old woman has been waiting for an opportunity to cast a spell that will extend her own life by possessing his body.
Alex finds himself similarly tortured by his aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan), a garish witch who orchestrates a desperate plot to sustain her own strength. Transforming humans into mindless weapons, Gladys has taken over Alex’s family home and lured his classmates to the basement. Holding them in a comatose state, she syphons off their energy to extend her own supernatural life.
Vastly different in many ways, both “Gramma” and Weapons hinge on a sinister witch who uses horrific magical spells to sacrifice the bodies of her vulnerable prey.
Hokum Echoes The Shining and 1408

It’s nearly impossible to watch a film about a haunted hotel without thinking of King’s third novel, The Shining. This icy story follows Jack Torrance, an angry writer struggling with his sobriety and a shameful incident haunting his past. Accompanied by his wife and young son, Jack has taken a job as the winter caretaker for the Overlook, a haunted hotel situated high in the Rocky Mountains. Snowed in, Jack finds himself tormented by dangerous ghosts who amplify his greatest fears.
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum follows a similarly troubled figure. Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a surly writer who travels to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland to spread his parents’ ashes. Haunted by his own tragic past, Ohm finds himself trapped in the honeymoon suite, a decaying room that’s been permanently closed to protect visitors from a dangerous witch trapped within its walls. Visual nods to King’s text abound with woodcut figurines and an animated clock, mirroring ominous descriptions found in King’s text.
Another terrifying sequence sees Ohm staring with horror at a closed door, the only thing separating him from the approaching witch. As the door knob slowly turns, Constant Readers remember Jack’s narrow escape from the ghostly woman in room 217. And Ohm’s popular Conquistador books directly reference King’s long-running fantasy series The Dark Tower which follows a gunslinger named Roland Deschain tasked with protecting the nexus of the universe.
In addition to these thematic comparisons, Hokum bears striking resemblance to King’s terrifying short story “1408.” Collected in 2002’s Everything’s Eventual, the terrifying story follows Mike Enslin, a dejected writer who’s risen to fame penning essays about his adventures in haunted locations. Mike arrives at the Hotel Dolphin and bullies his way into the titular room, despite the manager’s dire warnings. McCarthy nods to this story with an ominously misplaced hotel room door, reminiscent of King’s entry to 1408, an unsuspecting portal that appears to move each time Mike looks away.
However, McCarthy’s most direct reference lies in a minicorder Ohm uses to capture notes. Trapped inside the dreaded honeymoon suite, this device offers well-timed messages while sitting next to a decomposing corpse. Mike records his time in 1408 with his own trusty minicorder. Described for the reader, his tape has captured the man’s slow descent into madness as the room prepares to swallow him whole. With conclusions that differ wildly in tone, both Ohm and Mike find their lives irrevocably changed by encounters with the supernatural realm.
Widow’s Bay Builds Its Own Version of Castle Rock

Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay has taken the idea of an unofficial King adaptation and turned it into an art form. The Apple TV series sees the residents of the titular island plagued by a curse that dates back centuries. Not only does the picturesque hamlet not accommodate wifi connections, those born on the island face certain death should they ever try to leave. Desperate to modernize the tiny town, Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) draws in waves of tourists just as a new cycle of terror begins.
Blending horror with deft comedy, Dippold makes cheeky references to King’s body of work. Tom warns that, “there’s something in the fog,” reminding readers of King’s 1980 novella The Mist. And Loftis’ own stay in the town’s haunted hotel sees him tormented by the ghost of a murderous clown. We even spy a vintage King hardback peeking out of a local book trade box.
In many ways Widow’s Bay feels like a new iteration of the author’s Little Tall Island, a tiny village off the coast of Maine. In addition to the 1992 novel Dolores Claiborne and a handful of harrowing short stories, this quaint fishing village is also the setting for King’s 1999 teleplay Storm of the Century. Premiering on ABC primetime, this tragic tale follows a terrified group of islanders who batten down the hatches for a dangerous Nor’easter only to find a more sinister threat lurking within.
Constant Readers may also be reminded of Castle Rock, the author’s favorite fictional town.
First introduced in the 1981 novel Cujo, the charming village becomes the star of Needful Things, King’s satire about consumerism. After several Castle Rock stories, we’re reintroduced to its residents as they gossip about the arrival of Leland Gaunt and the grand opening of his curio shop. Anything their hearts desire can be found in his varied inventory, so long as they’re willing to pay the price. Pitting cantankerous neighbors against each other, Gaunt ignites a wave of grisly violence by exploiting long-held resentments and feuds.
The town’s only defense against this supernatural threat is beleaguered sheriff Alan Pangborn. Still grieving the deaths of his wife and younger son, Alan struggles to connect with his older child and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. Also a widower, Loftis struggles to raise his own restless son and explain the strange details of his wife’s tragic death. Attempting to unravel the island’s dark secrets, Tom is aided by quirky residents including a surly fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) and Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), an earnest Town Hall employee. King’s own novels feature many of these proactive alliances with disparate characters combining their strengths to overcome insurmountable odds.
With Widow’s Bay renewed for a second season and Mike Flanagan’s Carrie series on the horizon, the future seems bright for new King adaptations, both spiritual and directly pulled from his catalogue. The prolific author also shows no signs of slowing down with two publications nearing release. His upcoming novel, Other Worlds Than These, is the long-awaited third Talisman book which teases direct ties to his Dark Tower world. Holly Forever will be a new installment of his crime series, offering a different kind of genre fare.
This embarrassment of riches spawning multiple worlds seems ripe for spiritual adaptation and will likely inspire horror creators for decades to come.

Kate O’Flynn, Stephen Root and Matthew Rhys in “Widow’s Bay,” now streaming on Apple TV.

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