Editorials
‘Joy Ride’ Is a Modern Classic in Road Trip Horror [Formative Fears]
Formative Fears is a column that explores how horror scared us from an early age, or how the genre contextualizes youthful phobias and trauma. From memories of things that went bump in the night, to adolescent anxieties made real through the use of monsters and mayhem, this series expresses what it felt like to be a frightened child – and what still scares us well into adulthood.
From malevolent drivers to deadly detours, empty highways and byways are dangerous places to be in horror. Genre staples like Duel, The Hitcher, and Wrong Turn show the perils of hapless travelers. Yet John Dahl‘s 2001 film Joy Ride takes a different route. Brothers become trapped in a bad situation of their own making when they play a mean-spirited joke on a random truck driver. And as the siblings play cat and mouse with their disturbed and vengeful pursuer, this nightmarish road trip turns into a life lesson neither brother will ever forget.
The idea behind Joy Ride was first conceived by J. J. Abrams — two people who are driving together on a deserted road suddenly hear a voice from their CB, telling them their headlight is broken. Along with co-writer Clay Tarver, the pair then built an entire story around the foreboding scene. Originally titled “Roadkill” and filmed under the name of “Squelch,” the movie skirted the emerging cellphone boom. Abrams and Tarver instead depended on a near obsolete form of communication when needing to make contact between the protagonists and the villain.
While there is mention of chat rooms, that’s as far as convenient, contemporary technology goes in this movie. The two brothers are forced to deal with their very current dilemma by relying on remnants of yesteryear: a citizens band radio and a beater car that has seen better days. The characters are never really that far removed from civilization or even a phone booth; the circumstances of their ordeal still leave them feeling isolated. Qualities of Dahl’s neo-noir films carry over into Joy Ride. Although not anywhere as spicy as his early works, the director’s familiarity with out-of-the-way Western vistas and desolate locales is put to good use here. He conjures up a dusty, bleak microcosm where it appears only the main characters and their stalker exist. It’s a pocket universe of roadside terror that incidentally causes two estranged brothers to reconnect.
The destination is usually what matters the most in any given road trip. And as much as this is a story about a sadistic trucker hunting his culpable prey, it is more importantly about reconciliation between siblings. It all starts innocently enough with a college freshman named Lewis Thomas (Paul Walker) looking to spend some time with his long-distant crush. After cashing-in his plane ticket so he can buy a ’71 Chrysler Newport, he drives from California to the University of Colorado just to pick up Venna (Leelee Sobieseki). Their would-be romantic ride home together for the summer is postponed, though, when Lewis learns his brother Fuller (Steve Zahn) is in trouble yet again.
This isn’t the first time Lewis has come to Fuller’s aid; it won’t be the last, either. Their reunion at a police station is awkward, but it’s the next scene — Lewis dramatically pulls his car over at the first sign of fraternal ribbing — that confirms the brothers have a strained relationship. The tension ebbs when Fuller installs a CB radio in the car. Barely out of jail and the eldest Thomas boy is already up to no good. He eventually convinces Lewis to help him catfish another driver who is only known as “Rusty Nail” (voiced by Ted Levine). As reluctant as Lewis is, he does as he’s told: he pretends to be a woman named “Candy Cane” while talking to the lonely trucker over the CB. Each brother’s trademark role in the family is now obvious. To make the distinction even clearer, Fuller’s CB handle is “Black Sheep” and Lewis’ is “Mama’s Boy.”
It’s unfathomable that someone like Lewis would be such an unassuming pushover. While this may be due in part to the casting — the late Paul Walker wasn’t the first choice as the character was envisioned to be less confident, or as the director put it, a “putz” — it’s also just a sign of each brother’s function in the relationship. Fuller is the impulsive screw-up, whereas Lewis is the model son who may very well be overcompensating for his brother’s failings. His rush to spring Fuller out of jail upon hearing his mother’s disappointed voice over the phone shows his tendency to help when things are out of sorts in the Thomas clan. Regarding Rusty Nail, Lewis is hesitant about the prank because he knows right from wrong, but the need to appease his brother overrides his sense of morality. Lewis is always aimed to please when it comes to family and especially his big brother.
Steve Zahn hands down steals the show in Joy Ride. He makes you like a character who is positively immature and often self-regarding; his allure is felt in every scene. It comes of no surprise the writers wrote a version of the story where Venna outright falls for Fuller’s charms. Some of those scenes were left intact in the standard cut, which explains why Venna is suddenly interested in both brothers. Nonetheless, Fuller’s magnetic personality is his greatest asset. His charismatic wiles are potent, but they can’t save him from his own reckless actions. There is a precise moment where he could have spared him and his brother pain and misery by apologizing to Rusty Nail. Being true to who he is, Fuller makes things far worse and antagonizes the graveled, disembodied voice over the CB. Despite having seen the consequences of their “joke” up close — in what sounds like a case of gay panic, a third party is brutally attacked after the brothers sent Rusty Nail to his motel room under the guise of meeting Candy Cane — Fuller’s stubbornness remains. Still, his redemption comes later following the terrifying run-in with Rusty Nail.
The genre has a long history of putting evil behind the wheel and staining asphalt with the blood of the innocent. Whether it be venturing down a suspicious detour, or getting tailed by a maniac with severe road rage, the characters in other similar movies are typically decent and unsuspecting. Joy Ride upends the formula focusing on two error-prone men asking for trouble; they are imperfect victims who we come to sympathize with. It speaks to the quality of the writing and performances that audiences can still commiserate with these foolish brothers. Moreover, Rusty Nail is one antagonist whose glaring defects make him all the more real. Although his misdeeds can never be erased, there is a strange pathos about the malicious trucker, as well. The writers initially wanted to make him less mysterious and more understood. Their plan involved giving Rusty a physical disability that caused him to retreat from society and hide in his truck. The attribute was ultimately left out so we can only surmise what kind of life Rusty Nail led up to this point. The sequels are selective with background information, too, but you can at least put a face to the name in the third movie.
At one point, the writers also considered a scene where Lewis and Fuller went home together and saw their parents. An epilogue of this kind isn’t necessary seeing as the brothers have already made peace. Of the two, Lewis experiences the biggest growth as he was given the chance to come into his own, step out of the shadow of his brother’s flaws, and live beyond his parents’ expectations. In exchange, Fuller can now see Lewis as more than a “Mama’s Boy”; his baby brother’s habit of helping him comes from a place of love, not obligation.
This movie is a glowing example of how to reintroduce an old idea in a new and exciting way that doesn’t sacrifice character growth or writing. Dahl suffused ample suspense in a handful of harrowing sequences; Abrams and Tarver not only crafted affably imperfect heroes, they hatched one of the most understated and unnerving villains to come out of early-2000s horror.
The film yields every now and then so viewers can catch their breath, but once this taut and frantic thriller picks up speed again, Joy Ride earns its place as one of the best movies of its kind.
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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