For the past fifty years, many noteworthy directors have adapted the writing of Stephen King, from students enrolled in his Dollar Baby program to true genre legends like George A. Romero, John Carpenter, and Brian De Palma.
Some have given us genuine camp classics like Paul Michael Glaser’s The Running Man (1987) while others, like Rob Reiner and Frank Darabont, have created some of history’s most beloved films. But since the turn of the 21st century, one director has taken the reins as the preeminent director of Stephen King’s work. Cut from similar creative cloth, Mike Flanagan has a knack for capturing the author’s powerful blend of emotion and fear. From Gerald’s Game (2017) to the upcoming Carrie (2026) miniseries, the earnest director has found a way to translate some of King’s trickiest texts for the big and small screen.
King’s influence can be felt throughout the span of Flanagan’s career. A lifelong Constant Reader — the moniker King has bestowed upon his dedicated fans — Flanagan does not just set out to scare us to death, but to make us feel along the way. This talent for character-driven horror reflects King’s own narrative strategy. In Danse Macabre, his 1980 treatise on the genre, King notes, “I try to create sympathy for my characters, then turn the monsters loose.”
Flanagan’s debut feature, Absentia, may center an insectile creature from another dimension who snatches runners off the street. But this tender story could also be read as a metaphor for the pain of addiction and the toll it takes on those we love. Later films like Before I Wake and the 2016 sequel Ouija: Origin of Evil— which is much better than it has any right to be — use horror as the framework for a larger exploration of grief in the wake of a loved one’s death.
Both creators understand that a story must have emotional stakes if we are to be frightened at all.
Oculus
Flanagan’s second film, Oculus (2013), is a harrowing story of a family torn apart by a malevolent antique mirror. As children, siblings Kylie (Annalise Basso, Karen Gillan) and Tim (Garrett Ryan, Brenton Thwaites) watch this mirror, the Lasser Glass, slowly poison their suburban home. As adults, they reunite for an elaborate plot to prove its supernatural capabilities before destroying the object once and for all. An expanded version of Flanagan’s 2006 short Oculus: Chapter 3 – The Man with the Plan, Oculus (2013) parallels one of King’s most haunting stories.
Featured in the 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “The Reaper’s Image” introduces the Delver Glass, an antique mirror with a sinister past. While most simply see their own vaguely distorted reflection, a fraction of those who look in this mirror see a cloaked figure standing behind them and invariably go missing shortly after.
While these stories bear no outright connection, their similarities are unmistakable. Both “The Reaper’s Image” and Oculus include grisly histories of the mirrors and their many victims. But Flanagan’s Lasser Glass does not cause its prey to disappear. Extended time in the mirror’s presence sparks wildly distorted perceptions, eventually leading to extreme acts of violence. Caught in the mirror’s sinister deception, their father Alan (Rory Cochrane) begins neglecting his kids while torturing his wife in the upstairs bedroom. His transformation from a flawed, yet loving father into a callous family annihilator is not unlike the story of Jack Torrance, the human villain of King’s The Shining. It’s also impossible to hear young Kaylie and Tim vow to destroy the mirror as adults without remembering It’s beloved Losers’ Club.
Hush and Gerald’s Game
In many ways, Flanagan’s third feature, Hush, feels like a spiritual adaptation of King’s 1992 novel Gerald’s Game. The intimate story follows Jessie, an unhappy housewife on a romantic getaway with her boorish husband Gerald. When an ill-advised sex game goes disastrously wrong, Jessie finds herself handcuffed to the bed while Gerald lies dead on the floor. With no way to call for help, Jessie must use the few objects within her limited reach to free herself before she dies of dehydration. A fan of the harrowing novel, Flanagan has admitted to carrying a paperback copy of Gerald’s Game to industry meetings, pitching an adaptation as his dream project.
But before he would get the chance, Flanagan directed the slasher-home invasion hybrid Hush, co-written with his wife Kate Siegel, who also stars. The stylish film follows a deaf and mute writer named Maddie (Siegel) whose isolated house is invaded by a masked serial killer known only as The Man (John Gallagher Jr.). Filmed largely without dialogue, Maddie must dissect her situation as if it were the plot of her latest novel, meticulously working through survival scenarios. Like Gerald’s Game, Hush follows an isolated woman who must use her limited resources to fight for her life while sustaining unthinkable injuries.
Following the success of Hush, Flanagan finally secured his dream project. Released on Netflix in 2017, Gerald’s Game manages to capture a story many considered unfilmable. Except for childhood flashbacks and a polarizing denouement, the 300-page book takes place almost entirely in Jessie’s bedroom as she’s shackled in place on the bed. Most of the story’s dialogue comes from manifestations of women from her past: Ruth Neary, Jessie’s headstrong college roommate, and the Goodwife, a symbol of domestic oppression.
To streamline the story and bring out its themes, Flanagan makes a few narrative changes. With Bruce Greenwood playing a slightly more likeable version of Gerald, Flanagan recasts these interior voices as manifestations of Gerald and Jessie (Carla Gugino), explaining, “This is a movie about a marriage. I want to hear from a married couple.” Like an angel and devil perched on her shoulders, these two metaphysical characters spar with each other while helping Jessie piece together memories from her traumatic past.
Meanwhile, a stranger creeps into the darkened room while Jessie sleeps. She awakens to find the hideously gaunt Moonlight Man (Carel Struycken) silently watching her from the corner. Cloaked in shadows, Jessie cannot tell if this man — whom King calls the Space Cowboy — is an intruder meaning to do her harm or a specter of oncoming death. Flanagan cleverly plays with shadow and light to recreate one of King’s most frightening characters.
But the adaptation’s crown jewel is a faithful reconstruction of what is arguably the Master of Horror’s most gruesome passage. Hopelessly trapped by the military-grade cuffs, Jessie must essentially strip the skin from her hand to fit it through the steel bracelet. With jaw-dropping special effects, Flanagan presents the infamous “degloving scene” in excruciating detail, forcing us to stay with Jessie through her pain. Combining terror, horror, and disgust — King’s own delineation of fear — Flanagan explores the depths of Jessie’s mind, bringing her intimate experience to the screen.
Doctor Sleep
Flanagan’s next King adaptation is somehow even more ambitious. Thirty-six years after publishing his iconic novel The Shining, King reconnected with Danny Torrance in the 2013 sequel Doctor Sleep. After surviving the notorious Overlook Hotel, an adult Danny battles a group of psychic vampires to protect a little girl named Abra who possesses psychic gifts even more powerful than his own.
Like Gerald’s Game, this novel also includes extensive metaphysical scenes. The beguiling villain, Rose the Hat, can project her consciousness while meditating hundreds of miles away. Danny also manages to use his telekinetic powers to “turn the world,” mentally trading places with Abra to see, speak, and fight by controlling her body. Once again, Flanagan manages to capture the unfilmable, showing Rose gracefully gliding through a representation of Abra’s mind. He’s also able to keep track of the complex narrative, much of which occurs in his characters’ heads.
However, a larger concern would be marrying disparate source material. While revered as one of history’s greatest films, Stanley Kubrick took so many narrative liberties with his 1980 adaptation of The Shining that King is notably not a fan. In addition to numerous plot details, one version of the story ends with the Overlook standing and the other sees it burned to the ground. Anticipating a cinematic Doctor Sleep (2019), Constant Readers didn’t know whether Flanagan’s film would be a sequel to King’s or Kubrick’s story.
But Flanagan manages to pull off the impossible, blending both sides of this terrifying tale. In recreations of Kubrick’s iconic Overlook, the sensitive director weaves in pieces of King’s original novel that were excised from Kubrick’s adaptation. Themes of addiction, sobriety, and forgiveness finally break through as Flanagan transforms tender elements of King’s The Shining into new and original sequences. King has stated that the director’s additions, including a scene in which Danny (Ewan McGregor) comes face to face with his troubled father, helped him make peace with Kubrick’s celebrated film.
Midnight Mass and The Life of Chuck
Alongside these two adaptations, Flanagan turned to other genre authors for a string of miniseries adaptations. The Haunting of Hill House is based on Shirley Jackson’s celebrated novel, while The Haunting of Bly Manor was inspired by Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw. His The Midnight Club is a semi-anthology series based on the young adult horror of Christopher Pike, while The Fall of the House of Usherweaves together several of Edgar Allen Poe’s most chilling tales.
But nestled in the middle of this successful run is a series that nods to Stephen King.
Midnight Mass follows the residents of a small New England town who fall victim to an ancient vampire infiltrating their lives through the Catholic Church. What first appears to be a blessing from God soon becomes a soul-crushing disease. While the story is entirely original, several elements feel directly inspired by King’s sophomore novel Salem’s Lot. Released in 1975, the terrifying story sees a tiny Maine town crumble with the arrival of a charming vampire. King expertly makes the town itself a character, providing a salacious look at its many scandals and secrets. While Flanagan’s story is not nearly so salacious, Midnight Mass uses vampires as a springboard to tell a nuanced story about small-town life and the complex nature of community. Filled with poignant monologues and gorgeous symbolism, the series sees Flanagan take inspiration from King to create a masterpiece all his own.
For his next feature film adaptation, Flanagan joined the ranks of Rob Reiner and Frank Darabont in adapting one of King’s non-horror tales. Collected in the 2020 release If It Bleeds, “The Life of Chuck” is a tear-jerker novella that sees King make peace with the mystery of death. Told in three distinct chapters, the story begins with an entire world on the brink of collapse. Next we meet Chuck Krantz (Tom Hiddleston) on a joyous day in which he delights a random crowd by dancing with a stranger to a busker’s drums. This mirrors the third, and final vignette in which a young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) learns to dance in an afterschool club. We eventually learn that these stories are pieces of the man’s memory slowly fading away as he dies from cancer.
Flanagan’s story is a relatively straightforward retelling of this nebulous novella, skillfully highlighting the story’s emotional core. Flanagan captures the heart of this poignant tale, offering a lovely meditation on the reality of death. Though they differ in every conceivable way — including their ties to King himself — The Life of Chuck and Midnight Mass allow the director to confront the horrors of disability and terminal illness, themes King has explored in his later career.
Carrie and beyond
Though The Life of Chuck is a fairly deep cut, Flanagan’s upcoming project is as iconic as it gets. The seasoned director will next take a crack at his own interpretation of Carrie, King’s debut novel about a bullied girl. First adapted by Brian De Palma, 1976’s Carrie has become a genre staple and an early example of Good For Her horror. We watch Carrie White (Sissy Spacek) seek bloody revenge for a lifetime of horrific abuse by telekinetically destroying her senior prom along with a gym filled with her tormentors.
Flanagan’s version of the story promises to modernize the 1974 novel, infusing social media, cancel culture, and sexual predation while offering more nuanced depictions of King’s original characters. Flanagan also endeavors to connect his Carrie (Summer H. Howell) to King’s expansive legacy of psychic kids with a network of powerful young women who recognize her as one of their own. This ambitious reimagining cements a deal with Amazon Prime that will hopefully lead to more King adaptations. Flanagan has also announced plans to adapt The Mist, King’s 1985 novella about a grocery store overrun with interdimensional beasts.
But perhaps even more exciting, Flanagan is currently working through pre-production on a long-awaited adaptation of the Dark Tower saga. King’s eight-part western fantasy — including the coda novel The Wind Through the Keyhole — follows the gunslinger Roland Deschain on a quest to protect the mythical tower said to support the very threads of reality. Blending time, space, genre, and history, this sprawling saga has daunted an impressive list of directors and spawned one disappointing adaptation, The Dark Tower (2017). But if anyone can bring this massive story to life, it’s the man who gave us Gerald’s Game and reconciled the legacy of Doctor Sleep.
In addition to filming King’s most nebulous work, Flanagan’s signature blend of emotional horror meshes well with King’s own narrative style. Considering his impressive track record and the lengthy list of King titles still on the shelf, it’s likely that Mike Flanagan’s best work is yet to come.
