Editorials
Spike TV’s Failed Attempt to Bring Stephen King’s “The Mist” to the Small Screen [TV Terrors]
Horror and science fiction have always been a part of the television canvas, and constant attempts have been made over the years to produce classic entertainment. Some have fallen by the wayside, while others became mainstream phenomena. With “TV Terrors,” we take a look back at the many genre efforts from the 80’s, 90’s, and 00’s, exploring some shows that became cult classics, and others that sank into obscurity.
This month we revisit the short-lived small screen adaptation of Stephen King’s “The Mist.”
- Aired in 2017
- Aired on Spike TV
In the age of modern television where every network has sought their own hit genre series in the vein of “The Walking Dead” and “American Horror Story,” tapping into Stephen King’s massive oeuvre for content is just common sense. King has no shortage of short stories, novellas, and massive epics to keep his own streaming service afloat. Sadly, while tapping his writing for content is a good idea in theory, it doesn’t always translate into a surefire hit.
2017 was a tumultuous year for Stephen King content and his fans. On the one hand we got brilliant adaptations like It: Chapter One. On the other hand we got… Spike TV’s “The Mist.” Premiering on the now defunct Spike TV in the summer of 2017, “The Mist” TV series seemed like a great idea at the time. The premise for “The Mist” felt episodic anyway; we’re shown in the finale of the story that the carnage has spread almost worldwide, so we could have had something equally cold and relentless like “The Road” meets H.P. Lovecraft.
In early 2017, the series adaptation landed onto the network with a flurry of viral marketing and exclusive peeks at what promised to be a chaotic extension of the Frank Darabont-directed movie, but its own entity. Spike TV did a bang up job of hyping the series, providing cryptic television ads of the show for the first half of the year. They even allowed viewers to watch the first two episodes on Spike TV’s website, uncut, and with limited commercial breaks. I took advantage, of course.
Set in Bridgeton, Maine, we meet Kevin (Morgan Spector) a somewhat passive man who’s married to Eve (Alyssa Sutherland), his wife who is hiding some kind of mysterious past. They have a daughter named Alex (Gus Birney) who is suffering from her mother’s overbearing behavior. Things take a turn for the worse when during a party Alex is drugged, raped, and blamed. All of this occurs before a mysterious gargantuan mist makes its way into town. When it does quickly consume every crevice of civilization, they’re all split apart, forced to hide in various locales with the mist blocking any and all access between them.
To say “The Mist” was a botched television effort is an understatement. “The Mist” is not just terrible, but it almost seemed to set out to make the viewer miserable. The movie had very solid implications toward the mist being more about the blackness of humanity, and how religion may have been a part in Mrs. Carmody’s survival. But the titular mist presented in the series, we learn gradually over every episode, may not be some kind of portal from another dimension. Instead in the series it’s some kind of otherworldly fog that can judge people based on their sins past and present, and their ideas of morality. The producers work hard to make it abundantly clear that this isn’t the movie. That becomes a fact when Mrs. Carmody herself appears in the very first episode for two minutes and quickly suffers a horrendous death by the mist lurking outside.
The mist almost becomes a non-entity in some episodes where it literally has nothing to do in the show except become a flimsy catalyst for characters to act monstrously moronic. Other times it can literally do anything, including tack on clunky religious symbolism. In one scene a survivor has a bug crawl under his skin only for it to morph out of his back, wings fully spread, presenting a weird angelic image. There’s also the town’s shady priest Father Romanov who, in an attempt to flee, sees the four horsemen of the apocalypse appear in the mist.
The mist does whatever the current episode needs it to, and never has any real rules or limitations to it. And forget all of the vicious wildlife we saw in the movie. The Gray Widowers, the Arachni-Lobsters and the Behemoth are nowhere to be found. Instead now the mist can inexplicably dig into the minds and psyches of its victims and can conjure up scenarios involving their sins, regrets, and horrible secrets. The various characters within the throes of the mist have to either confront these beings, or else suffer its wrath. To what end the mist is conjuring these visions, is anyone’s guess, as it just seems to enjoy messing with these townies.
Is the mist sentient? Is it the product of a portal accidentally opened, or is it the end of humanity and the beginning of judgment day? Kevin struggles to make it to his wife and daughter, and along the way meets up with the unnamed soldier, and a criminal attempting to overcome her past drug abuse. All the while Alex and her mom are stuck in a large mall with other town folks, including the man that might have raped her. It only takes a little over a week for the survivors inside to begin fighting for space and food. Along the way we get to know so much more about the characters than we need to, while their season arcs are played out with ridiculous twists and lingering questions.
Who raped Alex? Who is this soldier? Why should we care? By the fourth episode I was sick of hearing about Alex, her evil best friend, as well as mom Eve’s shady past, and wanted some kind (any kind!) of interesting turn of events. The series jumps back and forth from glacially-paced storytelling to downright absurd plot holes and leaps of logic.
“The Mist” opened with strong ratings initially, and as it dragged on, the viewership dropped more and more. Spike inevitably just axed the whole series after ten episodes and almost no backlash. With the big brand change from Spike TV to the Paramount Network and the complete format reboot, the network cut out a lot of the former series from Spike TV, including “The Mist.”
At least we’ll always have Frank Darabont’s vicious monster movie classic.
Is It On DVD/Blu-Ray/Streaming? Although Spike TV is long gone (including the show’s website), you can still stream full, uncut episodes online through various services like Amazon Prime Video, iTunes, Netflix, and Google Play.
Five decades ago, Stephen King published the story of a bullied girl with telekinetic powers and forever changed the world of horror.
Carrie follows a high school misfit who seeks revenge for a hideous prank by psychically destroying her senior prom. The name Carrie White has become synonymous with the concept of a formal dance thanks to a flawless adaptation from Brian De Palma. Now fifty years after the film’s release, Mike Flanagan is putting his own stamp on the troubling story.
Rather than a feature film, the writer/director will expand King’s relatively slim debut novel into an eight-episode miniseries for Amazon Prime set to premiere on October 7.
Flanagan is no stranger to the world of Stephen King. A long-time Constant Reader, he first made waves with his daring adaptation of Gerald’s Game (2017), a novel many fans considered un-filmable. His underrated Doctor Sleep merges the disparate plot of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining with King’s original source material, and his 2024 genre-bending tearjerker The Life of Chuck faithfully executes one of the author’s most metaphysical novellas.
He’s currently mired in pre-production for an expansive adaptation of The Dark Tower series, keystone to King’s connected universe, and Warner Bros. recently announced that Flanagan will helm a new version of The Mist, King’s 1980 novella which sees a small Maine town overrun by otherworldly monsters.
Considering the vast array of the author’s previously unadapted material, an obvious question arises. Why reimagine Carrie in 2026? Noting the timeless nature of the content, Flanagan expressed his desire to bring the story of a bullied girl into modern times, mirroring his approach to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. He explained, “The only way to approach it was to build something new out of the ingredients of Carrie. Otherwise, there’s really no purpose in trying to retread ground that’s been so beautifully walked before.”
His miniseries will maintain the novel’s bloody bookends while delivering “big surprises” along the way.
A New Prom Night Nightmare
The roughly 60-second teaser introduces Summer H. Howell as Carrie White just before the moment of catastrophe. Standing in a prom dress, she smiles at her applauding classmates with an ominous crown perched upon her head. Moments later, Carrie unleashes a rage-filled scream into the night air while promgoers rush for the exit doors. But careful examination of this scene shows Carrie wearing a different, albeit dirty dress as she seems to telekinetically punish her peers.
In an exclusive first look with Entertainment Weekly, Flanagan explains that in his version of the story, “the events of that prom are going to be completely different.” An open trunk emitting a crimson glow does hint at the pig’s blood dumped on Carrie’s head, but it’s likely Flanagan’s formal dance will be a different kind of horror altogether. Despite these changes, the series may end with the widespread destruction outlined in the source material. Unlike any previous adaptations, King’s novel ends with the near-total destruction of Chamberlain, Maine. A flaming street in Flanagan’s trailer promises similar carnage no matter what prank sparks Carrie’s deadly revenge.
The Monstrous Addition of Social Media
On the opposite end of this fiery conclusion is an extreme act of bullying that brings together the story’s main cast. King’s novel begins as Carrie gets her first period while showering in the girls’ locker room. Completely unaware of the concept of menstruation, the sheltered girl thinks she’s bleeding to death. Her classmates respond with vitriolic rage. Led by ultra-mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton), they mock the terrified teen while pelting her with tampons. Glimpses of this disturbing event reveal that Flanagan has excised the scene’s nudity while adding a seismic update. As Carrie sobs in the shower stall, Chris and her friends film the breakdown with their phones.
Other scenes note the presence of social media, bringing King’s fifty-year-old story into the digital age.
Flanagan’s adaptation promises to explore the destructive power of social media, an often invisible entity with a potential for harm rivaling Carrie’s own powers. While King’s tormented heroine suffers in front of a small group of girls, Flanagan’s version of the incident will likely become a viral video, potentially circling the globe on social media. Similar to Katt Shea’s criminally underrated The Rage: Carrie 2, which includes elements of revenge porn exploitation, Flanagan’s modern retelling will distinguish itself by exploring the nebulous cruelty of online bullying, a force ten times more powerful than the irl pranks King first envisioned.
A Completely Reimagined White Family
In addition to modernizing these canon events, Flanagan hints at updates to Carrie’s oppressive upbringing at the hands of her mother, Margaret White (Samantha Sloyan). Dead before the novel begins, we never meet Carrie’s domineering father Ralph, known to carry a bible alongside his gun. Flanagan’s White household will be an altogether different beast. In his version of the story, Carrie and her mother have been hidden away in the unassuming home, forced out of hiding by Ralph’s unexpected death. Perhaps we will finally meet this elusive man whose shadow hangs over his wife and child. Considering the White family’s fundamentalist lifestyle, this reimagining hints at tradwife culture and a home ruled by staunch patriarchal control.
Whereas King’s Carrie has been tormented by her classmates since Kindergarten, Flanagan’s Carrie will be a wide-eyed newcomer to public school, eager to make friends and engage with her peers. We glimpse Carrie cozying up to Chris and the equally popular Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) as she navigates a new social scene. Of course, we know this kindness is part of an elaborate plot designed to lull Carrie into a false sense of camaraderie, setting up an atrocious act of public humiliation. These brief moments of feigned compassion put Sue’s own complicity into question. Will Flanagan’s version of the character find the courage to defend Carrie from vicious bullies or will she succumb to peer pressure and join in the mob mentality?
Perhaps the biggest deviation from King’s original text is the relationship between Carrie and her mother. King’s Margaret White is a horrifically abusive religious zealot whose worldview has been hardened by internalized misogyny. She shames Carrie for menstruating, locks her in a closet to “pray,” and regrets not killing her child in infancy. She’s also responsible for Carrie’s social ostracization. Known to berate her neighbors for their “sins,” Margaret forces her daughter to live by an extreme code of conduct and disallows any potential friends lest they corrupt the girl with their worldly ways.
Flanagan’s version of the character is perhaps just as much a victim as Carrie herself. Also trapped inside her home, his Margaret is overly vigilant, her own trauma manifesting as strict control. Describing a more sympathetic depiction of the iconic villain, Flanagan explains, “Our Margaret White is a woman who fiercely loves her daughter and wants to protect her from this world … [She] doesn’t know how to do that and thinks the way to protect her is to close her off; not punitively, but to create this private utopia.”
Despite this potential softening, Sloyan’s Margaret may still have a sharp edge. Though she has appeared in many Flanagan projects, from Hush (2016) to The Fall of the House of Usher (2023), she is best known for her role as the abhorrent Bev Keane in the poignant saga Midnight Mass (2021). Perhaps inspired by King’s Margaret White, Bev is pious and sadistic, willing to punish anyone who does not adhere to her warped approximation of Catholicism.
Flanagan specifically wrote Margaret with Sloyan in mind, likely remembering the actress’s eerie ability to create deceptive empathy and shift our allegiances on a dime.
Expanding Stephen King’s Telekinetic Universe
While most of King’s story deals with an unthinkable prom night in Chamberlain, Maine, large sections of the semi-epistolary novel see experts debating the nature of telekinesis. Do Carrie’s frightening abilities represent a new phase in human evolution or is the prom night carnage merely a fluke? King settles the debate with a shocking denouement in which a young mother recounts her infant daughter’s ability to dangle her crib toys in midair. We’re left to wonder if she will become another tormented girl who surprises the world with metaphysical strength.
Flanagan plans to build out this brief scene while amplifying themes of female empowerment. After introducing our main cast of characters, episode two will open with an unrelated story in which we meet another girl with the TK gene. Each subsequent chapter will expand this world, building out a roster of telekinetic young women. Considering King’s fondness for stories about powerful kids, often described as possessing “the shining,” Constant Readers will no doubt have their eyes peeled for various Easter Eggs nodding to the author’s vast catalogue.
Giving Carrie Her Own Voice
Perhaps the most striking distinction in Flanagan’s new trailer is the extent to which we hear Carrie’s voice. The sneak peek is fully narrated by the titular prom queen as she demands accountability. “I want to know why,” she explains while detailing Chris’ elaborate plan. Aside from the aforementioned coda, King’s book essentially ends with the aftermath of the prom night tragedy, leaving little time for Carrie to reflect. His shifting narrative does bring the reader into her fragile mind, though not before she’s been cowed by relentless cruelty. We watch Carrie sink into bloodthirsty revenge, but never hear a considered desire for justice or repair.
Flanagan’s original monologue allows Carrie to voice her pain and mourn the life she could have had. We’re also treated to a mug shot-style photo of Chris with a bruised and bandaged face, implying that the mean girl will have to answer for her senseless sadism.
Flanagan is known for filling his series adaptations with heartwrenching speeches that cut to the heart of his thematic intentions, and this teaser seems to follow suit. After years of fans, critics, and scholars analyzing Carrie’s pain, perhaps his modern retelling will offer the titular anti-hero a chance to finally speak for herself.
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