"1922": A Small, Dark Treasure by King and a Majorly Successful Adaptation

Prior to beginning the next Stephen King novel I plan to dive into (which is one I am very excited about), I got the idea to pause and do a quick re-read of 1922.  I wanted to finally watch the recent Netflix adaptation, which I heard was quite good, and figured it would be fun to get a refresher on the story and then see how the movie version measures up.

The novella, one of four excellent stories that comprise Full Dark, No Stars, is one I hold in high regard.  Reading it again definitely affirmed my appreciation for it.

1922 is one of King’s absolute darkest stories.  It is an interesting work; uncompromisingly bleak and disturbing, yet deeply moralistic at its core.  Because it is so stark and grounded in its realism, it serves as an effective cautionary tale. (At least three of the four stories in Full Dark, No Stars are more or less realistic, devoid of much in the way of supernatural elements.  The “haunted” aspects of 1922—I’m thinking of the rats and visions of a zombie Arlette—strike me as resulting from the narrator’s tortured psyche, brought on by the oppressive weight of his guilt.) Wilfred James, the central figure and the man whose confession provides the story’s structure, is responsible for his own undoing.  All the horrors that ensue as the grisly tale unfolds are a byproduct of James’s plotting, deception, and manipulation.  And King doesn’t hold back—James loses everything; even, it seems, his own mind. 

The story is perhaps not King’s most original idea, but such a thing hardly ever bothers me anyway.  I am much more interested in how a story is told.  And this one is incredibly effective.  The essential concept of 1922 is to explore the devastation that follows in the wake of a murder. King writes convincingly of a specific period in America’s past, and depicts an intriguing, fairly vivid portrait of the lifestyle of his characters—where and how they live—all through the use of first-person narration.  More and more, I am impressed by how good King is at this, since he is effectively restricting himself by framing the story this way; he could write deeper, more expansive exposition if he told his story from the third-person omniscient point of view.  That he manages to create such a textured, fully realized milieu in the manner he does is a big credit to his abilities, especially when you also consider the fact that this is a novella, and therefore not very long at all.

The telling aims to evoke James’s motivation, thought process, and subsequent attempts to justify and cope with what he’s done.  King does so with a strong command of tone.  As is the case with some of King’s other first-person storytelling, the mental and emotional point-of-view of the narrator is consistent throughout.  This element is enhanced by King’s masterful use of a period and region-specific vernacular.  As you read the language, you quite naturally hear it in a deep, sometimes gritty, Southern drawl.  I imagine King may have had some fun writing this one, playing as he does with certain anachronisms.

 
The characters, even those we’d consider minor, are all believable.  There's really not a bland character to be found.  They come quickly and memorably to life through King's strong, sharply written dialogue.  For example, even Arlette’s appearance is fairly brief, yet King gives us a good sense of her personality and of the troubled marital history between her and Wilfred, in what essentially amounts to a small portion of the novella.  And again, mostly it is through dialogue.   

 

Wilfred James is a strong character, and the authorly “voice” King adopts does a lot to convey this man’s attitude and beliefs.  One of this story's clearest ideas—a big takeaway for me, at least—is that, given the right set of circumstances and a particular motivation (or desperation)—each of us is capable of heinous evil.  James's particular character arc is a perfect means of communicating this idea.  Because he is the one telling of the horrors he's experiencing, as readers we feel the truth of what he's describing more strongly.

 

I appreciate that King doesn’t seem to exploit his premise for thrills or scares.  The notion of a man manipulating his son into helping him kill the boy’s mother is one of King’s nastiest, most tragic story ideas.  It is awful even in theory, and King portrays the act and its horrible implications as brutally as it deserves.

 

Along those lines, the murder itself is described in graphic fashion.  Sometimes, King’s inclination toward the explicit and gory when describing violence strikes me as excessive.  Here, I feel it is warranted.  The killing is deeply unsettling to read, but I think that is a necessary evil, in order to convey just how terrible, and significant, the act is.  Plus, the remainder of the story involves examining the damage that follows, so in no way did I wonder if King was somehow sensationalizing the violence. Ultimately, the toll the crime takes on James’s conscience is severe, steeped in guilt and moral grief.

 

My thoughts on the film?

 

As you know from my prior posts, I tend to approach film adaptations of King’s work with trepidation.  So was I surprised by how good Netflix’s “1922” is?  Oh, yes.  It is, I think, a near-perfect adaptation.  It is very faithful, missing perhaps a few details here and there, but sticking close to the novella in terms of story structure, specific scenes, even its use of voice-over narration and dialogue lifted straight from the book.

 

The movie struck me as a project the writer-director seemed passionate about.  Nothing excites me more than the prospect of a talented filmmaker tackling a work by King in a serious, thoughtful, and artistic manner.  That’s precisely what I think happened in this case.

 

The movie evokes the tone and essential feel of the novella remarkably well.  If you had not read the story, you would still very likely walk away from the movie with a fairly accurate sense of what it’s like to read it.  It is a very well-made film, in terms of attributes such as art direction, set design, cinematography, and acting.  But even beyond that, it is unnerving and depressing in ways that I was not sure the filmmakers would be able to pull off.  Part of what makes the novella such an effectively dark and difficult read is that the story inhabits, in large part, the inner world of James’s mind and soul, which are rotting with guilt and grief.  The book achieves this effect by using the framing device of James's confession.  He is able to tell the story through the lens of painful experience and regret.  To the film's great credit, even though it doesn’t use a lot of voice-over narration to reinforce the confessional aspect, the basic sense of devastation is nevertheless present throughout. 

 

Really, the only criticism I could offer is that it is perhaps a bit long.  In the movie’s last stretch, there were one or two times I felt a bit restless.  But, folks, this is a very slight demerit on what is otherwise a very strong report card overall.

 

1922 may not be one of King’s most popular works, but it is a solid little story.  And the movie version is a brilliant adaptation.  Neither is particularly pleasant to endure, but both are sure treasures for any King fan.