Editorials
George A. Romero’s ‘Monkey Shines’ Deserves a Rewatch While You Wait for ‘The Monkey’
When I first read the news that one of my favorite modern directors, Osgood Perkins (Longlegs, The Blackcoat’s Daughter), would be directing The Monkey, the article was accompanied by a familiar image: a toy monkey with a cracked-out face, banging two cymbals together. My brain immediately went to George A. Romero’s underappreciated 1988 film, Monkey Shines.
I also immediately assumed Monkey Shines was based on a King story—a natural assumption. What hasn’t King written at this point, after all? In reality, of course, Perkins/King’s The Monkey has absolutely nothing to do with Romero’s Monkey Shines. But while the two properties aren’t officially connected apart from their similar imagery – oddly enough, Perkins had to redesign the toy monkey from King’s story due to a Disney copyright! – they do have a few things in common. Both Monkey Shines and The Monkey feature bat-shit crazy stories full of dark humor, both helmed by fearless directors. So, if The Monkey’s release in theaters this week gives you a reason to revisit Monkey Shines? It’s (Os)good a reason as any!
George A. Romero’s Monkey Shines began as a novel written not by King, but by novelist Michael Stewart. The rights eventually landed in the hands of Orion Pictures, who wisely hired Romero to direct, specifically because of the Dawn of the Dead director’s ability to seamlessly inject dark humor into tragic horror stories.
This is immediately apparent in Monkey Shines as we meet our hero, Allan (Jason Beghe), and experience the harsh dismantling of his life. He’s a handsome, happy guy with a beautiful woman in his bed, out for a run with a backpack full of bricks. The world seems beautiful—where the sun is shining and passerby cyclists toss out high-fives instead of blocking traffic when you’re late for work. That is, until the moment a dog jumps out and scares Allan face-first into a moving truck.
Allan then wakes up to the harsh reality that he is paralyzed from the neck down. His girlfriend leaves him for the “genius” doctor who’d supposedly fixed him (Stanley Tucci). His nurse often quotes the Bible but is only a set of wings away from being a spawn of Satan herself. His mother is an overbearing guilt machine with a smile, and his best friend, Geoffrey (John Pankow), is like a depressing ’90s “HBO Special” version of Re-Animator’s Herbert West. It’s a positive for the audience, because Geoffrey feels like he came directly from a Frank Henenlotter set. But it’s terrible for Allan, who even attempts to suffocate himself to death in some dry-leaning plastic.
And we haven’t even gotten to the monkey yet!
Allan’s maladjusted scientist friend decides that to truly reap the benefits of his “smart” injections, his prize test monkey, Ella, needs to get out of the lab. So, he employs Melanie (Kate McNeil), a gorgeous monkey specialist, to work with the animal as it becomes an aide for Allan. He also hopes it will help Allan kick his depression. It works all too well—Allan and Ella become best friends, filling a hole in his heart. But when he learns that his girlfriend-stealing doctor may be responsible for his paralysis, the lab injections somehow bond a telepathic relationship between him and his monkey. As a result, Ella begins using Allan’s buried resentment and anger along with its own jealousy to murder anything and everyone around him.
I’m always surprised that Monkey Shines isn’t considered alongside Romero’s most praised projects. Then again, I feel the same way about another tragic Romero tale in 2000’s Bruiser. Perhaps people were too attached to Romero’s penchant for zombie classics. Whatever the reason, Monkey Shines faltered badly at the box office and feels, unfortunately, forgotten—even in the horror world. It’s the kind of movie that you wonder, if released today, could it have gained traction with the right marketing department? Like The Monkey has with NEON? It’s also possible that many rented Monkey Shines on a VHS whim expecting a slasher flick with a monkey gimmick. When in reality, it’s far more akin to something like Brian De Palma’s Raising Cain.
While the telepathic storyline is admittedly pretty silly, Monkey Shines remains a story told earnestly. It’s a movie full of impressive filmmaking moments, shockingly great acting, and maybe one of the best animal performances ever put to screen. Ella (Boo in real life) had a nuanced character arc that Romero and company handled like a symphony. Alongside the help of Tom Savini’s puppets, clever camera work, and DP James A. Contner (Cruising), there are almost no shots of monkey action that feel unnatural or unbelievable—an unfathomable feat when you consider the script. Though there are some janky edits due to a 240-page script that ended up with 40% to 50% cut out post-filming, Monkey Shines is a mostly seamless experience. I don’t want to think about how much CGI would tarnish this kind of film today.
Likely tracing back to his DIY roots despite working with one of the biggest budgets of his career, Romero and crew masterfully scale surreal moments that could have easily been over the top back to their base fears: A scene where Ella simply slams a cutting apparatus repeatedly against a shelf as dumbass Geoffrey reaches his hand towards her creates the type of dread a real life dismemberment would conjure. Another, when sweet Melanie is knocked unconscious and Ella attempts to light her hair on fire with a match, builds tension until we’re relieved that her hair is too wet to catch fire. That tension is only followed by Ella attempting to puncture Melanie’s unconscious face with a deadly syringe.
All this suspense is heightened by the fact that we’re experiencing it through Allan, who is forced to watch all this, unable to move his body. Finally, he manages to get Ella close enough so that he can bite his neck. Allan is then forced to brutally kill the monkey as if he were a rabid dog, frantically ripping his head back and forth with the monkey’s neck in his mouth. It gets wild, but the entire film is impressively held together by Jason Beghe’s performance. He’s the kind of guy it’s extremely easy to root for—whether it’s to get the girl, or stop a monkey from murdering his entire life. It’s a tough performance both physically and emotionally, and he never falters.
Romero’s original ending for the film featured that son of a bitch, Dean Burbage (one of Stephen Root’s first-ever film roles), carrying on the darkness of Geoffrey’s work. It was a darker ending that Romero relinquished due to bad test audience reactions and studio pressure. He did not, however, approve of the part of the theatrical ending where a dream sequence provides an Alien-esque jump scare where the monkey pops out of a bloody torso. A perfect example of the dichotomy between the expectation and imagery of Monkey Shines and the story at its heart. All this would lead to Romero happily returning to independent film for a while.
On its eye-grabbing surface, Monkey Shines promises horror in its most base form. This scary object/animal is about to royally fuck things up… and it does. But within that construction, it’s also a story about overcoming grief, how we treat others in their worst moments, and the results of burying our anger towards those who’ve hurt us.
And yeah, a scary monkey that will cut your throat with a shaving knife.
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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