stephen king

A mutant killer baby. Lampshades and pickle jars that come alive. Sinister sewers. A demonic clown that preys on children.

HBO Max’s “It: Welcome to Derry,” the latest adaptation of Stephen King’s epic 1986 novel about a deadly clown named Pennywise, has already scared up a lot of buzz since its Oct. 26 premiere with its mix of evil events and nightmarish images.

The first episode featuring Robert Preston warning “Ya Got Trouble” via the classic musical “The Music Man” is an ominous introduction to the subsequent terrors. Gruesome sequences revolving around birth in the first two episodes will likely make several viewers cover their eyes. (The second episode drops Friday on HBO Max in time for Halloween, and it will air in its usual 9 p.m. PT Sunday slot on HBO.)

A prequel to 2017’s “It” and 2019’s “It: Chapter Two” — both directed by Andy Muschietti — the new drama is set in 1962 in the fictional small town of Derry, Maine. Bill Skarsgård, who played Pennywise in the films, will reprise his role during the season.

The large ensemble of child actors and adults features several Black characters, including Air Force Maj. Leroy Hanlon (Jovan Adepo); his wife Charlotte (Taylour Paige), a civil rights activist in a Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat; and son Will (Blake Cameron James). Also featured is Hank Grogan (Stephen Rider), the town’s theater projectionist, and his teen daughter Ronnie (Amanda Christine).

Developed by Muschietti, his sister Barbara Muschietti and Jason Fuchs, the creators have prioritized increasing the intensity of the films. But the Muschietti siblings add that they are also incorporating certain messages into the mayhem. Many of the Black characters face bigotry and resistance in the predominantly white town that echo challenges that people of color currently face.

“Stephen is a master of weaving these issues into his stories, and it’s impossible to think of doing one of his stories without having that texture front and center,” Barbara Muschietti said.

The Muschiettis, in a video call, discussed diving deeper into the story of Pennywise, getting their young cast to act like kids from the 1960s, and what gives them nightmares. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Siblings Barbara Muschietti and Andy Muschietti on the set of HBO’s “It: Welcome to Derry.”

(Brooke Palmer / HBO)

How soon after the two “It” movies did the idea of a deeper dive into the world of Pennywise come about?

Andy Muschietti: The novel was the inspiration. There are all these enigmas still lingering, enigmas intentionally left unresolved in the book. Part of the greatness of the novel is that you finish 1,200 pages and at the end, you still have no idea what “It” is and what it wants. It’s all speculation. We had conversations with Bill about how great it would be to do an origin story of Bob Gray, this cryptic character, and give him the opportunity to play the human side, the man behind the clown. It’s about completing the puzzle and uniting the stories that lead one to another, creating a story with the final purpose of getting to this conclusive event, which is the creation of Pennywise, the incarnation of evil.

Barbara Muschietti: Once the idea start percolating, we got in touch with Mr. King and he loved the idea. At the beginning of the pandemic we went to (then-Warner Bros. TV chief) Peter Roth. He bought it in the room and we’ve been on it ever since. Not a day of rest.

“The Music Man” plays a prominent role in the first episode, and it gets dark pretty quickly. I’m a huge fan of that movie, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at that joyful musical the same way again.

Andy Muschietti: I actually wanted us to create a musical ourselves that would pretend to be a movie from 1962. But we would have spent so much money and energy. So we started a quest for the right musical. “The Music Man” was made by Warner Bros. in 1962, and it’s about someone coming to a small town not unlike Derry, talking about trouble, trouble. And it just seemed to fit.

Barbara Muschietti: We also hope a lot of younger people will be curious and go see “The Music Man.”

What is the superpower of “It” that makes it a story that keeps giving and giving?

Andy Muschietti: There are a lot of things people connect to. One of them is childhood. Most of us cherish those years as being full of magic and imagination. We’ve all been children and we’ve all been afraid of something. The novel is a testament to the virtues of childhood, and those virtues normally disappear when you become an adult. Arguably the adults are always the enemy in the world of ‘It.’”

Apart from the clown, there’s a whole mythology that has yet to be connected. My purpose in this series is to reveal the iceberg under the water.

Black characters, including Hank (Stephen Rider), Ronnie (Amanda Christine), Leroy (Jovan Adepo) and Charlotte (Taylour Paige) play central roles in HBO’s “It: Welcome to Derry.” (Brooke Palmer / HBO)

You could not have planned the timing of the show coming on, but it seems like the topical issues addressed in this show, like bigotry, have a relevance to what’s going on in the country today.

Andy Muschietti: What’s going on is not new. It’s just found a new expression. It has been going on and on in cycles. We have this illusion that things are good, but around the corner is another dictator trying to come. We came from Argentina, and we don’t have the kind of racial tension that America has had for hundreds of years. Most of Stephen’s books are a song to empathy in general, and denouncing injustice everywhere. It is important to show, especially in an era where some people in the country are trying to delete history.

Barbara Muschietti: Sadly, these horrors keep haunting us, and racism, antisemitism, Islamophobia is still sadly a human condition, needing to find someone below you that you can punch. Yes, our history makes us a little more sensitive. We live in the United States, it’s a country we love, but it is surprising …

Andy Muschietti: Alarming.

Barbara Muschietti: … that more people are not more concerned.

Andy Muschietti: It’s the fog that Stephen King was talking about. People, basically out of fear, look the other way, trying to suppress things they see, and forget. It’s all part of the same reflection.

It’s immediately obvious that some horrific things will be happening in this show, even more so than the films. The imagery is really nightmarish.

Andy Muschietti: Being a shape-shifter is the thing which keeps giving and giving, and there was a clear intention for us to raise the volume of intensity. You need to meet the expectations of the audience — they don’t want to see more of the same. And we are also dealing with a different time when the collective fears were different because of the social and political situation of that era — the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis — was just around the corner. Then there’s social unrest and segregation.

Barbara Muschietti: I’d like to say it’s all very cathartic. We’re very nice people. I swear.

A demon baby birthed in Episode 1 is among the monsters seen in “Welcome to Derry.”

(HBO)

The show also has a great feel and look to it when it comes to depicting the 1960s.

Andy Muschietti: There was a lot of instinctive respect and attention to accuracy, aesthetically and spiritually. It was the true work of a team in every department, the same folks who had worked on the movies. There was also the research from the writers.

Most of the cast members are kids who did not live in that era. How do you communicate that era and feel to a young cast?

Andy Muschietti: There is a lot of talking. Stephen King knows a lot about this because he was a kid in the 1950s. The book is so rich in detail. We have Ben Perkins, who is a child actor coach. And there is imagination. These kids like to play and at this age, they thrive when you don’t put a lot of restrictions on them. The only thing that went overboard was the cursing.

Barbara Muschietti: That’s one thing that Stephen came back to us with. “There’s too many f—.” We also send the kids with Ben who basically sets up a camp — a bicycle riding camp, a swimming camp, stuff like that which kids in 2024 did not have access to. We’ve been doing that since 2016 very successfully. Because of all of this, all these kids have an incredible bond. They’re friends for life. They get to say goodbye to adolescence on our sets in the most beautiful way.

How long will you keep expanding the ”It” universe?

Andy Muschietti: It’s Derry, Derry, Derry all day. “Welcome” is an arc that expands over three seasons. Why is “It’” Derry, and why is Derry “It”? We will eventually reveal a bigger story revolving around the existence of Pennywise.

I have to ask — what gives you two nightmares? What is scary to you?

Barbara Muschietti: Fascism. Guns.

Andy Muschietti: Violence in general. We’ve come so far as a civilization, and it seems like we haven’t learned anything. What happened to empathy, and seeing what makes us similar, instead of things that divide us?

Barbara Muschietti: And love and respect.

It’s dead certain that if you’ve been a television critic for, ahem, a number of years, you’re going to have reviewed a passel of shows based on the writing of Stephen King, America’s most adapted, if not necessarily most adaptable author. (It’s been a mere three months since the last, “The Institute,” on MGM+.) The latest float in this long parade premieres Sunday on HBO — it’s “It: Welcome to Derry,” a prequel to the 2017 film, “It” (and its 2019 follow-up, “It: Chapter Two”) based on King’s 1986 creepy clown novel, each of which made a packet. (There was a 1990 TV miniseries version as well.)

Developed by Andy Muschietti (director of the films), Barbara Muschietti and Jason Fuchs, “Derry” is an extension of the brand rather than an adaptation, which features a white-faced circus-style clown called Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård, back from the movies) who lives in the sewer and comes around every 27 years to feed on children’s fear — fear being the preferred dish of many famous monsters of filmland, and white-faced circus clowns having lost all goodwill in the culture. (No thanks to King. Or Krusty.) And while I assume some of the series’ points may be found within King’s original 1,138-page novel, life is short and that is going to have to remain an assumption. In any case, it’s very much a work of television — not what I’d call prestige television, despite a modicum of well-done fright effects — just ordinary, workman-like TV, with monsters. (Or one monster in many forms.)

It’s 1962 in Derry, Maine, and everywhere else. (Subsequent seasons — prequel prequels — will reportedly be set in 1935 and 1908.) The Cold War is heating up. Schoolchildren, forced to watch animated films about the effects of a nuclear blast, are ducking and covering beneath their desks (a psychological rather than a practical exercise). But the threat of annihilation has done nothing to slow them in their teenage rituals. Bullies chase a target down the street. A group of snobby girls is called the Pattycakes, because they play patty cake, and their leader is named Patty. On the other hand are the kids we care about, the outsiders, banded together in unpopularity. It’s a paradoxical quality of horror films that to be an outsider either qualifies you as a hero or the monster — the insiders are usually just food. Not that the monsters are particular about whom they eat.

We open in a movie theater. Robert Preston is on the screen in “The Music Man,” performing “Ya Got Trouble.” (Chronologically accurate foreshadowing!) In the audience is Matty (Miles Ekhardt), a boy way too old to be sucking on a pacifier. Chased from the theater — he’s been sneaking in — it’s a snowy night, and he accepts a ride from a seemingly normal family, who quickly turn abnormal. Suddenly it’s four months later and Matty is an officially missing child.

Taylour Paige, Blake Cameron James and Jovan Adepo play the Hanlon family, who have just moved to Derry, Maine.

(Brooke Palmer / HBO)

The series begins promisingly, setting up (as in “It,” or, hmmm, “Stranger Things”) a company of junior investigators. Phil (Jack Molloy Legault) has a lot of thoughts about aliens and sex; Teddy (Mikkal Karim Fidler) is studious and serious and has thoughts about Matty. Lilly (Clara Stack) is called “loony” because she spent time in a sanitarium — the King-canonical Juniper Hill Asylum — after her father died in a pickle factory accident. (Not played for laughs, although the pickle is perhaps the funniest of all foods.) Lilly thinks she heard Matty singing “Trouble” through the drain in her bathtub; Ronnie (Amanda Christine), the daughter of the cinema’s projectionist Hank (Stephen Rider), has heard voices in the theater’s pipes. The kids run the film, and supernatural mayhem ensues. It’s pretty crazy! Gross hallucinations — or are they? — will afflict them through the series.

Meanwhile, Air Force Maj. Leroy Hanlon (Jovan Adepo) has been transferred to the local base, where secret doings are afoot, involving (classic plot line) the military’s desire to claim and weaponize whatever barely understood dangerous thing that’s out there in the woods. (His value to this operation is that he cannot feel fear, the result of a brain injury.) The Hanlons — including wife Charlotte (Taylour Paige), a civil rights activist in a Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat, and son Will (Blake Cameron James) — are Black (as are Ronnie and her father, seemingly accounting for 100% of Derry’s in-town African American population). “Don’t be looking for trouble,” Leroy tells Charlotte, who responds, “There’s going to be trouble anywhere we go. That’s the country you swore your life to defend.” Will, who is scientific, will become friends with Rich (Arian S. Cartaya), an appealingly goofy kid in a band uniform; they’ll both wind up on the Pennywise case.

Typically, the kids — also including Marge (Matilda Lawler, the secret weapon of “Station Eleven” and “The Santa Clauses”), Lilly’s socially desperate friend — are the strongest element in the story and the show; their energy overwhelms the obviousness of the narrative, and whatever takes us away from them, into pace-slowing side plots, is time less well spent.

What else? There’s a Native American element — including the old Indian burial ground story — represented by Rose (Kimberly Guerrero), who runs a thrift store (called Second Hand Rose, in a nice nod to Fanny Brice) and whose indomitable air makes her a kind of counterpart and potential ally to Charlotte. Manifest destiny gets a mention, and the plot will conventionally pose Native humbleness against white hubris. Dick Hallorann (Chris Chalk) is a Black serviceman with a tragic mental gift, used cruelly by his superiors — a familiar King type. Racism is a recurring theme without becoming a consistent plot point, with messages for 2025. (Rich: “This is America. You can’t just throw people in jail for nothing.” Will: “Are we talking about the same country?”)

Also: A statue of Paul Bunyan is going up in town — and in fact a 31-foot-tall Bunyan statue was unveiled in Bangor, Maine, in 1959. This is pointed to a couple of times, so I would imagine some kind of Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man scenario coming in the series’ unseen back half. Or something.

Horror, especially body-horror — there are two monstrous birth sequences in the five episodes, out of nine, available to review — has, you may have noticed, moved from the fringes to the center of popular (even high) culture, with A-list stars signing on and Oscar and Emmy nominations not unlikely. Indeed, the good, cheap, unrespectable, unambitious variety of scare flick has mostly disappeared from the big screen. That “Welcome to Derry” is more of a cheesy B-picture than its makers might like to imagine, assembled from worked-over tropes — somewhat excusable for King having originated many of them — is more in its favor than not. TV remains a haven for cheesiness. Long may it remain so.

NEW YORK — A new report on book bans in U.S. schools finds Stephen King as the author most likely to be censored and the country divided between states actively restricting works and those attempting to limit or eliminate bans.

PEN America’s “Banned in the USA,” released Wednesday, tracks more than 6,800 instances of books being temporarily or permanently pulled for the 2024-2025 school year. The new number is down from more than 10,000 in 2023-24, but still far above the levels of a few years ago, when PEN didn’t even see the need to compile a report.

Some 80% of those bans originated in three states that have enacted or attempted to enact laws calling for removal of books deemed objectionable — Florida, Texas and Tennessee. Meanwhile, PEN found little or no instances of removals in several other states, with Illinois, Maryland and New Jersey among those with laws that limit the authority of school and public libraries to pull books.

“It is increasingly a story of two countries,” says Kasey Meehan, director of PEN’s Freedom to Read program and an author of the report. “And it’s not just a story of red states and blue states. In Florida, not all of the school districts responded to the calls for banning books. You can find differences from county to county.”

King’s books were censored 206 times, according to PEN, with “Carrie” and “The Stand” among the 87 of his works affected. The most banned work of any author was Anthony Burgess’ dystopian classic from the 1960s, “A Clockwork Orange,” for which PEN found 23 removals. Other books and authors facing extensive restrictions included Patricia McCormick’s “Sold,” Judy Blume’s “Forever” and Jennifer Niven’s “Breathless,” and numerous works by Sarah J. Maas and Jodi Picoult.

Reasons often cited for pulling a book include LGBTQ+ themes, depictions of race and passages with violence and sexual violence. An ongoing trend that PEN finds has only intensified: Thousands of books were taken off shelves in anticipation of community, political or legal pressure rather than in response to a direct threat.

“This functions as a form of ‘obeying in advance,’” the report reads, “rooted in fear or simply a desire to avoid topics that might be deemed controversial.”

The PEN report comes amid ongoing censorship efforts not just from states and conservative activists but from the federal government. The Department of Education ended an initiative by the Biden administration to investigate the legality of bans and has called the issue a “hoax.” PEN’s numbers include the Department of Defense’s removal of hundreds of books from K-12 school libraries for military families as part of an overall campaign against diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives and “un-American” thinking.

In Florida, where more than 2,000 books were banned or restricted, a handful of counties were responsible for many of the King removals: Dozens were pulled last year as a part of a review for whether they were in compliance with state laws.

“His books are often removed from shelves when ‘adult’ titles or books with ‘sex content’ are targeted for removal — these prohibitions overwhelmingly ban LGBTQ+ content and books on race, racism, and people of color — but also affect titles like Stephen King’s books,” Meehan says. “Some districts — in being overly cautious or fearful of punishment — will sweep so wide they end up removing Stephen King from access too.”

PEN’s methodology differs from that of the American Library Assn., which also issues annual reports on bans and challenges. PEN’s numbers are much higher in part because the free expression organization counts any books removed or restricted for any length of time, while the library association only counts permanent removals or restrictions.

Both organizations have acknowledged that because they largely rely on media reports and information that they receive directly, their numbers are far from comprehensive.

The PEN report does not include data from Ohio, Oklahoma, Arkansas and other red states because researchers could not find adequate documentation. Meehan said PEN also doesn’t know the full impact of statewide laws.

Italie writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Kate Payne in Tallahassee, Fla., contributed to this report.