Horror, Adventure and Adaptation: Locke & Key from Comics to Netflix (3 of 3)

Julia Round & Terrence Wandtke

JR

I’m glad you mentioned the McGuffin of Ellie taking the Shadow Key in Episode 9 – there’s no good reason behind it except to set up the final showdown! Those sorts of horror clichés always irk me! Along similar lines, there were a few other disappointments for me. They were mostly to do with simplification – the creation of the Matchstick Key and the Echo Key for example. But by contrast, I really liked the moments where the Netflix series edged towards something more complicated and more meta – Netflix’s Scot (who seems to be an amalgamation of Scot and Jamal from the comic) as a horror buff worked well for me, and although the Savini Squad were less memorable characters I liked the nod to horror royalty. One early moment that I appreciated for similar reasons was Kinsey’s ‘Final Girl’ speech in Episode 1 – it was nicely self-reflexive and I started to wonder if the television series was going to draw heavily on cinematic horror (which would have been great). That was another thing I liked about the comic to be honest – particularly near its start it seemed to draw on visuals from a lot of classic horror movies (Night of the Living Dead, I Spit on Your Grave).

Locke and Key Volume One

But overall, I think the comic book is able to do something quite special with the horror genre via its particular self-awareness and great use of the medium – that could have translated into the Netflix series, but didn’t. The story’s uncanny elements, its mirrors, shadows, caves and haunted houses all invite a reading of Locke & Key as symbolic horror, and there are lots of metaphorical phrases in the comic book that similarly nod to its motifs. For example when speaking about moving the family to Lovecraft, Nina says ‘They needed a few doors closed between them and what happened’ (Vol. 1). Towards the end of the series Rendell explains ‘Your body is a lock. Death is the key’, and the understanding that ‘Keys turn both ways’ is pivotal to the Lockes’ final victory (Vol. 6).

But for me the more interesting aspect of the Locke & Key comic is its use of phrases that sound metaphorical but in fact are literalized in the story. Nina says things like ‘I swear the locks in this house have minds of their own’ (Vol. 1); and Kinsey realizes ‘Ideas can’t really be killed. Not for good’ (Vol. 5) when the emotions she removes from her head remain alive as tiny anthropomorphic characters. This sort of merging and manipulation of the physical and spiritual runs throughout the comic book – demons become iron, emotions become flesh, characters change gender and size and ethnicity and corporeality.

I find that fascinating and I think that Hill plays with horror and metaphor in a very unique way. I’m not sure this comes across in the Netflix series; it seems to aim more for Whedon-style one-liners than subtle allusions. By contrast the comics page has the advantage of being able to offer visual immediacy but also time for thoughtfulness. So comics are a great place to tread that line between emotional engagement and knowing self-referentiality – not least because so much is asked of the reader! That’s why things like the Crown of Shadows work much better for me on the page – the reader has to immerse themselves (and perhaps look more closely than we would like!) to spot subtle changes, and their discomfiting effects may be felt even if we don’t consciously notice them.

TW

In order to appreciate the series, I tried to restrain my love of comics and my love of the way this particular series crafted word and image with nuance.  I also love film and television but, like you, felt the Netflix series failed to work with that same level of nuance.  The establishment of the Savini Squad was a nice start but the reference seemed to just set up laughs about low-budget horror and the cameo of Tom Savini himself.  This was a missed opportunity not only because it leads mostly to the fans’ thrill at recognizing horror royalty but also because it fails largely to explore the unconscious connection between humor and horror (acceptance and abjection).  Some negative reviews of the Netflix series suggested the show lacked the budget to realize the comic book’s fantastic elements with digital effects (like opening the lid on someone’s head with the head key to reveal their psychology in a symbolic world).  I’m not comfortable with this criticism as some of the best horror films and shows have been low-budget.  However, I do think the show lacked the confidence and perhaps imagination to create an experience like the strange, funny, and horrifying moment where Kinsey’s anthropomorphized emotions drown in a bottle of their own tears.  Instead, we have the first episode’s initially eerie threat of the mirror key resolved by Tyler chasing after his mother with a rope tied around his waist.  

It’s only fair to mention that there have been positive reviews but some of those reviewers do operate with an implicit sense of the source material in mind.  Still, for others who do not, they often marvel at the originality of the series’ ideas.  Although I don’t necessarily agree, I’m trying to keep these appreciations in mind and look forward to the next season promised by Netflix.  We often impose standards on current serial narratives (whether comic book and television) that we didn’t just two decades ago.  For instance, the first season of The X-Files had promise but only later gained truly solid creative footing; while fans look back on the clumsiness of that season affectionately, few season one episodes show up on those “best of” lists.  I’m hoping that the network’s support will cause the show runners to be more adventurous: in particular, to use Laysla De Oliveira more effectively and explore the fluidity of identity through not only the identity key and Dodge / Gabe but also the adolescent experience of the Lockes.  This would certainly then be fertile ground for the family and teen drama established this season.

I’ve also read what I consider to be somewhat forced comparisons between Stranger Things and Locke & Key.  Undoubtedly, this is motivated by the fact that Stranger Things will soon come to an end and Netflix will need something to feed that niche audience.  This could also be a beneficial as the influence of Stanger Things’ 1980s-era kids’ adventure aesthetic could feed some more horror into Locke & Key’s 2000s-era family and teen drama aesthetic; those 1980s stylings are less concerned with what’s “appropriate” than those 2000s stylings based on a time that firmly embraced television ratings in the US.  In any case, I loved having this conversation with you Julia and hope we can do it again: maybe for the second season and to talk a bit about the unexpected but definitely upcoming comic book crossover between Locke & Key and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman (with Sandman a television series also promised by Netflix).

Julia Round’s research examines the intersections of Gothic, comics and children’s literature. Her books include Gothic for Girls: Misty and British Comics (University Press of Mississippi, 2019, and winner of the Broken Frontier Award for Best Book on Comics), Gothic in Comics and Graphic Novels: A Critical Approach (McFarland, 2014), and the co-edited collection Real Lives Celebrity Stories (Bloomsbury, 2014). She is a Principal Lecturer at Bournemouth University, co-editor of Studies in Comics journal (Intellect Books) and the book series Encapsulations (University of Nebraska Press), and co-organiser of the annual International Graphic Novel and Comics Conference (IGNCC). She shares her work at www.juliaround.com.

Terrence Wandtke is a Professor of Literature and Media Studies at Judson University in Elgin, IL where classes taught include Comic Books and Graphic Novels and Media Theory. He has directed the school’s film and media program, served as the area chair of Comics and Comic Art for the Popular Culture Association Conference, and currently acts as the editor of the Comics Monograph Series for the Rochester Institute of Technology. He is author of The Comics Scare Returns: The Resurgence in Contemporary Horror Comics (RIT), The Dark Night Returns: The Contemporary Resurgence in Crime Comics (RIT), and The Meaning of Superhero Comic Books (McFarland); he is the editor of the collections Robert Kirkman: Conversations (forthcoming UP of Mississippi), Ed Brubaker: Conversations (UP of Mississippi), and The Amazing Transforming Superhero: Essays on the Revision of Characters in Comic Books, Film, and Television (McFarland).