Netflix adaptation of ‘Locke & Key’ is not entirely magical
LOS ANGELES: Connor Jessup, 25, a budding teen heartthrob and a star of the Netflix fantasy series “Locke & Key,” was getting ready for its premiere. But first, he wanted a new nail polish colour.
So on a recent afternoon, he walked into Helen Nails, a no-frills salon near his friend’s apartment in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. He surveyed the rainbow wall of colours and narrowed his choice to an inky midnight blue and fire engine red.
“I spend a lot of my time typing, so I’m just looking at them a lot,” said Jessup, who clearly isn’t afraid of accessorizing with colour.
Moving to a new place can be rough, but in “Locke & Key,” the experience is downright dreadful.
Shadows attack from the corners of a room. A mysterious woman in the depths of a well speaks to a young child. There’s no way the family’s new house, out on a remote, snowy hilltop, gets decent Wi-fi.
After the violent death of Rendell Locke, his traumatized family — widowed Nina, teenaged Tyler and Kinsey, 9-year-old Bode — drive cross-country to Keyhouse, the legacy home of Rendell’s family.
Nina plans to fix up the sprawling Gothic mansion and flip it (this place just screams “bed and breakfast,” or, in any event, just screams). It’s bad enough that the kids have to jump into the middle of a new school year, but it’s immediately clear that everybody in the small Massachusetts town of Matheson is familiar with Rendell’s tragic death.
Keyhouse is full of secrets, as well as hidden magical keys. A sampling: the Anywhere Key allows the user to open a door and step through into anywhere in the world. The Head Key is a therapist’s delight; it literally opens the user’s mind to everything, from your fears to fuzzy childhood memories.
The Ghost Key allows a sparkly CGI Bode to fly over the grounds and encounter one of his spiritual ancestors. Then there is the ominous Omega Key...
There is evil lurking at Keyhouse as well, and that presence particularly wants the Omega Key. What does the key do? No spoilers here.
Based on the Eisner Award-winning graphic novel series by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez, the troubled Locke family has at last made its way onto the screen after a few false starts.
A 2011 pilot for Fox was shot at Hartwood Acres and around Ellwood City. That never went to series. In 2017, Hulu announced it would be shooting a new pilot with Andy Muschietti (“It”) directing. That fell through.
Like Alan Moore’s “Watchmen,” the complexity of the original material makes “Locke & Key” one of those properties that seems to defy adaptation. Yet in this eight-part Netflix series, producers Carlton Cuse (“Lost,” “Bates Motel”) and Meredith Averill (“The Haunting of Hill House”) have come up with an admirable attempt.
As a young adult series, it’s fine. The teen characters are attractive and quippy, although having one of them be a charming Brit seems a tad gratuitous. As a horror/fantasy mystery, it takes awhile to get rolling and perhaps works better as a snapshot of a family in crisis.
“Locke & Key” has Hill (“N0S4A2”) in on the production, and he is credited with writing one episode. Among the principals are Darby Stanchfield (Nina), Jackson Robert Scott (Bode), Connor Jessup (Tyler), Emilia Jones (Kinsey), Bill Heck (Rendell), Laysla De Oliveira (Dodge), Sherri Saum (Ellie Whedon), Thomas Mitchell Barnet (Sam Lesser), “American Vandal’s” Griffin Gluck (Gabe) and Coby Bird (Rufus Whedon).
The series pays winking homage to any number of the horror fantasy masters who came before “Locke & Key”: The town name surely must be in honor of author Richard Matheson (“The Incredible Shrinking Man,” “Duel”), and the blood-and-splatter film enthusiasts at the local academy call themselves “Savinis” — that would be Tom, the Pittsburgh special-effects make-up icon. The kids watch “Dawn of the Dead,” one of Savini’s films.
Fun, somewhat-related fact: in Season 3 of Netflix’s hit “Stranger Things,” the local mall is showing George Romero’s “Day of the Dead.”
The tone of the series plays more “video game” than “graphic novel,” in that as keys are collected like tokens, they unlock more worlds/abilities. It’s never fully explained why grownups don’t seem to fully comprehend or even remember the magical elements but that’s not really a big deal.
More frustrating are the Locke kids’ failure to take advantage of them. Sure, a scary demon appears now and again to blow up light fixtures or summon those shadow creatures. Yet there are stretches where the real dangers seem to fade into the background and an already traumatized family seems to blithely go on to more mundane matters.
In short: the Lockes are going to school or playing hockey and just living their everyday sort-of best lives. While there’s MAGIC to explore.
In particular, Bode’s experience with the Ghost Key stands out as the sort of addictive rush anyone would want. Flying? We’d be so using that key, often.
This is a series for the “Stranger Things” crowd, especially since Hill and Rodriguez’s original level of violence has been scaled back. The cast is attractive and the two teen leads, Jones and Jessup, are credible in incredible situations.
The series’ production design, primarily by Rory Cheyne, is beautiful. Keyhouse might be dark and foreboding, but its Victorian mansion bones will delight fans of HGTV. The Head Key unlocks ventures into a realm of cool visuals, including a candy-colored shopping mall on steroids. It’s nicely shot as well; there are swooping, overhead shots of snowy roads cutting through the woods, and of the nearby cliff high above crashing waves.
Word has it that “Locke & Key” is already ramping up for a second season. Netflix hasn’t made a formal announcement, but that might be a mere formality. After all, spooky is big on the streaming service, as are high school dramas. Put the two together and there’s the real magic.