Editorials
‘The Midnight Club’ – All the Christopher Pike Stories the Netflix Series Adapts
Mike Flanagan’s latest Netflix series, The Midnight Club is an adaptation of not just one Christopher Pike novel, but many of the prolific 80s and 90s YA author’s works. In the past, there has been only one adaptation: a 1996 made-for-TV movie of Fall Into Darkness starring Tatyana Ali and Jonathan Brandis (available for free on YouTube).
The series, by comparison, will see filmed adaptations of not just the titular book, but also The Wicked Heart, Gimme a Kiss, See You Later, Witch, Road to Nowhere, and The Eternal Enemy
So what do you need to know about the books before you dive into the series? Let’s break it down!
The Midnight Club (1994)
First and foremost, the series is an adaptation of Christopher Pike’s story about a group of teens in a hospice. In the book there are five main characters (compared to the series’ eight) and they’re all white…because YA publishing in the 90s was rigidly Caucasian.
All five of the book characters will appear on screen: protagonist Ilonka (Iman Benson), her hard exterior/soft interior handicapped roommate Anya (Ruth Codd), and Spence (William Chris Sumpter) who is gay and has AIDS (this is a reveal in the book, but not the series). Then there’s religious Sandra (Annarah Cymone), and, finally, Kevin (Igby Rigney), Ilonka’s love interest.
There’s also Dr. White, a male doctor who manages Rotterham, as well as Nurse Schratter, but neither figures heavily in the plot. These latter two characters are gender swapped in the series and played by Heather Langenkamp (Dr. Stanton) and Flanagan regular Zach Gilford (Mark, who is now a gay nurse).
The group of teens gather at midnight to share stories, often late into the night. In true Pike tradition, the stories reveals something about the storyteller: be it their interests, their desires or their dreams. Only one of the nocturnal stories from this book – Anya’s “The Devil and Dana” – will appear in the television series. It is captured in episode two “The Two Danas” and details a girl’s deal with the devil that allows her to split herself in two with all of the usual horrible consequences.
Much of The Midnight Club revolves around the teens making peace with their inevitable deaths, while also moving past their regrets and recognizing the importance of human connections. The book has a melancholic end, but it is ultimately hopeful and ties into Pike’s interest in reincarnation and past lives, which is a recurring narrative trope in both his books as well as Flanagan’s show.
For a more in-depth discussion of The Midnight Club, read Paul Lê’s ‘Buried in a Book’ editorial.
The Wicked Heart (1993)
Published a year before The Midnight Club, this book about a reluctant teen serial killer features heavily in the Netflix series. It is a story told by Kevin across three separate episodes (3, 6 and 10), making it the most thorough adaptation to appear on the show.
The book is about a seemingly average high school student named Dusty Shame. Aside from taking care of his sick mother at home, he’s nondescript: he doesn’t make waves, he doesn’t stand out, and he seems like a nice guy…except for the fact that he is a serial killer of young women.
Like many Christopher Pike novels, the action begins in media res as Dusty bludgeons a sleeping girl in her bed using a ball point hammer. It’s clear right away that, based on his methods and proficient clean-up, this isn’t his first murder.
What is new, however, are his burgeoning feelings for fellow classmate, Sheila Hardolt. The problem? Sheila just so happens to be the best friend of the girl he just killed, and she refuses to let her missing friend go quietly into the night. As Sheila’s pursuit of the case intensifies, and Dusty’s attraction to her grows, the familiar voice in Dusty’s head urges him to kill someone new: his new love interest.
The Wicked Heart is ultimately a good yarn told from the perspective of a killer, but in the context of the series, it’s about fighting who you are and admitting what you truly want, which pairs well with Kevin’s arc, particularly with respect to Ilonka.
Gimme A Kiss (1988)
This is an early Christopher Pike book and not one of his more popular ones, so it’s unexpected to see it covered by the series. It is a queered-up story told by Spence in episode 4 and coded as a film noir both in the screenplay by James Flanagan and Mike Flanagan, as well as Michael Fimognari’s direction. This makes sense because Gimme A Kiss is, at its heart, a crime story.
Pike’s early books often fell into two camps: realist or supernatural. Even among his realist works, however, Gimme A Kiss is a bit of an outlier: it’s extremely pulpy.
In the book, high school student Jane Retton has an overactive imagination that she documents extensively in her diary. Most recently, this involves a fictitious tryst with a boy she has a crush on. When the diary pages are photocopied and posted around the school, Jane makes a secret plan for revenge: she will fake her death at the senior boat cruise and then, at the end of the weekend after everyone has grieved, she’ll reappear to show them up.
It’s an incredibly overcomplicated and melodramatic plan that naturally goes awry and, in short order, the bodies begin to pile up. What makes Gimme A Kiss interesting is that it is told as an extended flashback via a bracketing device: Jane’s best friend Alice is the one relaying the present day portions to the police.
The book is arguably one of Pike’s less popular books because the writing lacks polish and the motivation for the whole sordid affair is both shallow and a little bit silly. That this becomes a joke in Flanagan’s adaptation makes logical sense.
See You Later (1990)
Arriving two years after Gimme a Kiss, See You Later is much more of a supernatural tale. Besides serial killers and romantic vendettas, Christopher Pike *loves* time travel. This is one of his earliest efforts, documented in The Midnight Club by new character Amesh (Sauriyan Sapkota) in episode 5, which also features Flanagan fave Rahul Kohli.
The narrative revolves around star-crossed lovers Mark and Becky. He’s an eighteen-year-old computer game creator and she works at the game store. He loves her and gets her hooked on his game The Starlight Crystal (also a Pike novel, but that fact is unimportant for the TV series). The kicker is that Becky is unavailable because she’s dating Ray, a blando hunk with political aspirations.
The narrative kicks in when Mark meets an older, but familiar couple named Vincent and Kara. They support him in different ways: Vincent makes him play a nuclear simulation game called “Decision” that’s impossible to beat but challenges Mark’s perception of gaming, while Kara counsels him in love. She even hatches a plot to break up Ray and Becky because she’s rooting for Mark so hard.
And that’s when things fall apart. Naturally Vincent and Kara aren’t exactly what they seem and eventually Mark, Becky and Ray’s story is revealed to be both bigger and more important than anyone realized. You could say it’s written in the stars…with humanity’s future at stake.
See You Later is a fun book whose ending is slightly tweaked in the Netflix series, though the emotional resonance of the star-crossed lovers remains intact. And in truth that’s the most important aspect considering it’s really about the burgeoning relationship between Amesh and new character Natsuki (played by Aya Furukawa).
Witch (1990)
Witch comes out the same year as See You Later during what will eventually become Christopher Pike’s most productive time period (he published twelve books in a four year span between 1990 – 1993). Aside from perhaps Remember Me, it stands as one of Pike’s most humanist books: it’s about magic, but it’s a love story through and through.
Julia comes from a matriarchal line of witches who use their abilities to heal, including her doctor mother. There’s just one caveat: never look into water that has moonlight shining on it.
Naturally that’s just what happens to Julia and she sees a glimpse of the future in which a boy is shot in a robbery.
Naturally she meets him in real life shortly thereafter, and even though she is not supposed to love him because he’s her friend’s new boyfriend, she can’t help falling for him.
And even though she knows she shouldn’t, Julia can’t help trying to prevent his death, which naturally only produces more harm and hardship.
It makes sense that this is the other multiple episode story in Flanagan’s adaptation. As told by Ilonka over two episodes (6 & 10), the story’s take-away about accepting the inevitable, the dangers of interfering with destiny, and finding peace perfectly suit Ilonka’s arc over the series.
Road to Nowhere (1993)
Several of Pike’s books feature elliptical narratives. He’s fond of structuring stories almost like an ouroboros: the plot circles back to consume its own tail (tale?) with characters seemingly trapped in dream-like fantasy situations (see also: Whisper of Death and the dreams in Die Softly).
In the Netflix series, Natsuki tells the story of Freedom Jack and Poppy Corn (Flanagan regulars Henry Thomas and Alex Essoe) in episode 7. They’re hitchhikers who are picked up by Teresa Chafey as she flees a bad domestic situation for a seemingly interminable late-night road trip. Much like the format of The Midnight Club, the pair take turns telling Teresa a grim story: Jack’s perspective is always dark, dismissive and cynical while Poppy is resigned, but ultimately hopeful.
Freedom and Poppy’s story is wholly absent from the Netflix series, but the hitchhikers personalities remain the same. It’s ultimately less about them and more about Natsuki’s own backstory, however, and despite dominating the episode’s run time, Road To Nowhere is arguably one of the slightest adaptations to appear on the show.
For a more in-depth discussion of Road To Nowhere, read Paul Lê’s ‘Buried in a Book’ editorial.
The Eternal Enemy (1993)
Arriving the same year as Road to Nowhere, The Eternal Enemy is similar in tone and narrative to See You Later in that it concerns a seemingly innocuous series of events with earth shattering consequences.
The final book adapted for the Netflix series is from a story told by Sandra in episode 9 and, as with all the stories featuring Spence, it is queer and gender-flipped. In Pike’s novel, Rela is a College student who discovers that her expensive new VCR (ah 1993!) has the ability to record the future one day in advance.
Much like Witch and Pike’s other cautionary stories, the power that Rela wields starts off helpful, and then quickly dovetails to risk the livelihood of the ones she loves, namely her new paramour Christopher. It’s a story about sacrifice, responsibility and doing the right thing, even when it’s difficult, which is a nice thematic tie-in to Sandra and Spence’s arc in the series.
And that’s it! As a lifelong Christopher Pike fan, it’s a lot of fun to see so many of his classic works turned into live action, despite their oft-condensed form.
Looking ahead, it’s unclear what the future holds for adaptations of Pike’s work, or if the series will inspire reprints or – dare we hope? – new novels. We already know that Netflix is working on new Fear Street adaptations, so perhaps there’s hope for more Pike down the line, either as another run of The Midnight Club or something entirely new.
“The Midnight Club” is now streaming on Netflix.
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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