Editorials
‘IT: Welcome to Derry’ Explained: The Many Stephen King Connections & References in Episode Three
WARNING: The following contains major spoilers for episode three of It: Welcome to Derry.
The first season of It: Welcome to Derry may be set in 1962, but its third episode, “Now You See It,” begins in the past. A little boy named Francis (Diesel La Torraca) runs through an old-fashioned carnival before daring to enter the freak show tent. Inside, he finds a menagerie of unusual oddities, some bearing a strong resemblance to cinematic adaptations of Stephen King stories. Director Andy Muschietti steps into the frame as a piano player, jovially accompanying this grotesquerie. Though never featured prominently in any of the author’s fictional works, King muses on freak shows in Danse Macabre, his 1981 treatise on the horror genre, examining the dated concept itself and the way we categorize monstrosity.
Terrified by a one-eyed man in the circus tent’s darkest compartment, Francis receives a present from his disapproving father. This gift, a slingshot, comes in handy when It—disguised as the freak show ghoul—chases him through the forest. Just inches from the humanoid creature’s gnashing teeth, Francis is saved by a rock launched from the trusty tool by his friend Rose (Violet Sutherland). Decades later, a young Beverly Marsh will similarly save her friends from the monster in werewolf form with her own slingshot and bullets made from melted silver dollars.
Photograph by Brooke Palmer/HBO
This harrowing moment was perhaps foretold by the ominous 6719 on the license plate of Francis’ Model T. Though Gen Z will likely gravitate to the first two digits, Constant Readers take notice of the number 19. This is an auspicious figure in King’s Dominion, appearing in many of his published works, from dates and addresses to room numbers and ages. Johnny Smith last bets 19 on the dreaded Wheel of Fortune game just hours before an accident unlocks his disturbing psychic abilities in King’s 1979 novel The Dead Zone, and an anonymous patient suffering from OCD describes it as “a powerful odd number” used to hold an otherworldly monster at bay in the terrifying short story “N.”
King was just nineteen years old when he began writing The Gunslinger, the first entry in his sprawling Dark Tower saga. In a terrifying coincidence, the author would later be hit and nearly killed by a van on June 19, 1999, an event which sparked the completion of the final three Dark Tower novels. The number appears throughout King’s epic series with branches that seem to form the digits and names containing 19 letters. It is said to indicate the presence of ka, the force that binds together all living things. Here, it shepherds the passage of a powerful weapon into the hands of an early Derry defender. Marked with the number 19, Francis’ car overheats, and he must trade the slingshot for a bottle of water, placing it in the hands of Rose, who will later use it to save his life.
Photograph by Brooke Palmer/HBO
Sensing the slingshot’s power, a much older Francis—revealed to be General Shaw (James Remar)—asks Dick Hallorann (Chris Chalk) to use it as a beacon of sorts to locate the hidden “entity.” The talismanic object does manage to draw Hallorann closer, and he finds himself mentally pulled into the lair of Pennywise the Dancing Clown (Bill Skarsgård). Near a familiar funhouse stage, a pair of yellow eyes open in the darkness as the monster notices Dick’s mental presence. In addition to this lurking threat, the underground silo is filled with the remains of Its destruction—the floating bodies of those caught in the Deadlights. Originating from Todash Space, a liminal realm in King’s Macroverse, these radiant orange lights emerge from Its gaping jaws with the power to instantly kill or incapacitate. A powerful weapon in the arsenal of the Crimson King, an antagonist in the Dark Tower series, these lights form the essence of Its deadly power.
Among the floating victims, Hallorann spies his grandmother, Rose. First introduced in King’s 1977 novel The Shining, the saintly woman teaches her young grandson to navigate his psychic abilities and is credited with giving the power its luminous name. King’s 2013 sequel, Doctor Sleep, will further the woman’s heroic legacy. She teaches Dick to trap dangerous spirits in a metaphysical lock box where they will eventually starve. Dick, in turn, teaches a young Danny Torrance this mental defense when battling demons of his own. It’s unlikely that Rose has actually been caught in Pennywise’s Deadlights. Her presence in Hallorann’s disturbing vision is probably a subtle reminder in a moment of terror that her grandson, now grown, also possesses immense psychic strength.
Photograph by Brooke Palmer/HBO
In addition to the sewer-dwelling entity, Derry has always been home to human monsters. After arresting the obviously innocent Hank Grogan (Stephen Rider), Chief Bowers (Peter Outerbridge) threatens the prisoner with manufactured evidence, reminding him of what happens to child killers in the notorious Shawshank Prison. First seen in the 1982 novella, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, the Maine correctional facility’s most famous resident, Andy Dufresne, may not be convicted of killing a child, but he suffers brutal sexual assault at the hands of fellow inmate Bogs Diamond.
Elsewhere in town, Derry’s indigenous residents are concerned with Shaw’s attempts to dig up the beacons. (For more information on the Bradley Gang’s exhumed car, see last week’s recap of episode 2.) Rose (Kimberly Guerrero), proprietress of the town’s consignment store, warns her nephew Taniel (Joshua Odjick) against getting involved, insisting that he and his friends are “needed.” While it remains unclear just how and why, Odjick is a familiar face in King’s Dominion, last seen starring as Walker #48 Collie Parker in Francis Lawrence’s adaptation of the Richard Bachman novella, The Long Walk.
Photograph by Brooke Palmer/HBO
In addition to presiding over Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes (also explained in our recap of episode 2), it seems Rose has a deeper connection to this frightening town. Flashbacks reveal that she is the brave girl who saved young Francis with a deft hit from her trusty slingshot. In a quieter moment, the smitten boy reveals that his father has been transferred to another base and he will soon be moving away. Francis asks Rose to promise not to forget, echoing Bill Denbrough’s future vow to his friends. But Rose explains the brutal truth: those who leave Derry tend to lose their memories of the town’s dark secrets. We see this strange phenomenon in the Losers’ Club members, who all forget their battle with the sinister clown, only remembering after a call from Club historian Mike Hanlon, who stays behind to man the watch.
While the adults try to locate this entity, Lilly (Clara Stack), Ronnie (Amanda Christine), Will (Blake Cameron James), and Rich (Arian S. Cartaya) seek to prove Its existence and exonerate Hank for the movie theater massacre. When a summoning ritual seems to fail, they find themselves under attack in the cemetery but manage to snap a few photos, including one of a sinister figure emerging from a crypt. When developing the film, they make out the blurry image of a malevolent clown, marking the first official appearance of Pennywise in his iconic form.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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