At first, the Netflix approach to serialized storytelling truly was a breath of fresh air. Their much shorter and far tighter arcs, built on the idea that every season of television was a layered three-act story with a beginning, middle, and end. Who knew that every episode didn’t have to be composed and formatted like the one before? Or even the one to come? It allowed for Stranger Things to take brilliant detours with episodes like “The Lost Sister” and for Bojack Horseman to indulge itself (even more so than it already does) with the half-hour monologue that is “Free Churro”.
But with season after season of television now employing this approach, a lackadaisical inertia has begun to settle in. The format has become so predictable that we know exactly when every reveal will happen. Remember that unexplained prologue to episode one? Fear not, because episode eight (sometimes it’s episode nine), which begins with the slate that reads: “Three Years Ago”, will explain everything you need to know. Unsure if this series is working for you? You need to keep going until at least episode three. Because that’s when things really kick off.
Netflix has become so much a part of our pop-culture diet that our familiarity with it is beginning to breed a certain contempt. Even resentment. God forbid, boredom. If not with the shows themselves, then at least with their structure.
Which is why the first episode of Locke & Key was such a delight. Playing out like something of a throwback, “Welcome to Matheson” feels, in many ways, like a traditional TV pilot. It wastes very little time in getting going. All the major players are introduced, the mechanics of the world are laid out, a mystery is established, and the stakes are set forth. We don’t have to commit to four hours of television before getting some idea of what’s happening with the Lockes.
The series does slip back into a more familiar structure later in the season, but it does enough differently to keep it unpredictable. One-part Stranger Things. One-part The Haunting of Hill House. One-part Goonies. Locke & Key is all of those things and none of them. It starts out on familiar ground. It borrows beats. But only fleetingly. It is very much built on the idea that we, as an audience, are familiar with all those things that have come before and are therefore well-primed for a show like this one.
As for what’s happening with the Lockes? The siblings – Tyler, Kinsey, and Bode – are trying to fit in and connect with new surroundings after being uprooted following the senseless murder of their father. Their mother, Nina, is teetering between benign neglect and willful ignorance. Throw in a long-standing family secret, ghosts, soul-sucking demons, magical keys, interdimensional portals, and what you have is perfect fodder for seven seasons and a movie.
So why did it take over a decade to make it to our screens? Having been a pilot at Fox, a potential movie trilogy at Universal by Kurtzman and Orci, and a pilot at Hulu. Having gone through numerous showrunners and rights holders, at least two cast makeovers, and God knows how many rewrites, how did Carlton Cuse and Meredith Averill finally crack it?
By changing it.
Not by much. Just enough to make it more appealing and accessible to a wider audience. The original comic books by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez are glorious works of literature. As a writer, Hill provides just enough text to complement the imagery and keep the narrative flowing. While Rodriguez, on the other hand, uses his brush to create a world that, while complete, still makes room for your imagination to roam.
Locke & Key was ripe for adaptation. Just not a slavish one. This is a version that can best be described as a remix. It captures the tone and tenor of the comics while avoiding the usual pitfalls that come with literary translations. Think Lindelof’s loving and respectful homage to Watchmen as opposed to Snyder’s panel-by-panel recreation. Carlton Cuse and Meredith Averill have a deep understanding of the source material and are unafraid to change it in order for it to stand on its own as a television series.
And so, the version we have on Netflix is a little tamer. It leans more into the fantasy than it does the scares. It isn’t as gory. And with far less body horror. This version was custom built for a mass YA audience.
That being said, it doesn’t dumb things down. While it may skew younger than the comic books that it’s based on, there is nevertheless an underlying darkness that the series doesn’t shy away from. Both the trauma of loss and the black cloud of addiction are tackled head-on in smart and subtle ways, with each of the characters reacting differently to the insanity around them.
What’s more, there is also a genuine peril that faces our young heroes. Laysla De Oliveira is Delphic, and deceptive, and monstrous as the main antagonist, Dodge. She manages to be playful and menacing at the same time. And her interactions with Jackson Robert Scott’s Bode are especially dangerous, posing a creepy and credible threat throughout these 10 episodes.
In fact, all of the performances here are worth talking about. But the incredible chemistry between Connor Jessup, Emilia Jones, and Jackson Robert Scott is worth pointing out. The love, frustration, and rivalry that their characters display for each other feels real and lived in. Where the essence of each sibling is captured perfectly. In Tyler’s eyes, you can see the intellectual and emotional burden that he struggles with as he tries to stand-in for an absent father. In Kinsey, you see her deal with the existential crisis of being the “final girl” in an altogether subversive way. And in Bode, you get pure, unadulterated, childlike wonder. All three of them are an absolute pleasure on screen.
Locke & Key, much like HBO’s Watchmen, is proof that a series, and the source material that it’s based on, can co-exist as two distinct, yet equally distinguished, pieces of popular culture. And that the key to any successful translation lies in its approach, in an intellectual grasp of the source material, along with the confidence to give audiences a new take on it.
Locke & Key
Netflix, Season 1, 10 Episodes
Showrunners: Carlton Cuse and Meredith Averill
Writers: Carlton Cuse, Meredith Averill, Michael D. Fuller, Liz Phang, Andres Fischer-Centeno, Vanessa Rojas, Brett Treacy, Dan Woodward, Mackenzie Dohr, Aron Eli Coleite, and Joe Hill.
Cast: Jackson Robert Scott, Connor Jessup, Emilia Jones, Sherri Saum, Griffin Gluck, Darby Stanchfield, Laysla De Oliveira, Petrice Jones, and Thomas Mitchell Barnet
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