Time is a Wheel: In Defense of the 2020 Mini-Series THE STAND
By Justin Drabek
The Stand by Stephen King is my favorite story of all time. I say “story” rather than “book” because, as time has shown, it is a living entity. New versions and interpretations continue to emerge. First, King expanded and updated the novel, then came Mick Garris’s 1994 miniseries, followed by the world of The Stand appearing in Wizard and Glass as part of King’s The Dark Tower series. There’s also the graphic novel adaptation, and, most recently, a new ending written by King for the 2020 miniseries, which will likely be added to future editions of the book.
The Stand is the story that turned me into a constant reader many years ago. It taught me so much about society — about how, in moments of panic and distress, we can either rise to our best or descend to our worst or sometimes find ourselves somewhere in between those extremes.
This exploration of self, and of those around us, is where I love to spend my time, whether in prose or film. I don’t know if I would be the person I am today without this story and its many adaptations, changes, and versions — and I mean that without any hyperbole. The impact these characters and moments have had on my life is immeasurable in so many ways. I will forever be grateful to King for his tale of good, evil, and everything in between. Yes, it’s a story of about a pandemic with a classic battle of good versus evil, but it’s so much more.
When I first heard that CBS All Access (now Paramount+) would be streaming the new adaptation of The Stand, I could hardly contain my excitement. The chance to see these characters, whom I’ve spent most of my life with, in a new light and on a new journey was thrilling. I was eager to see how this version could improve upon the 1994 Mick Garris miniseries, which I also loved. Garris’ miniseries was the first adaptation I had seen after reading the book, and the magic of watching that book come to life before my eyes was unforgettable. While it’s a product of its time, it was still a faithful and enjoyable adaptation, one I revisit every year. If you don’t have the remastered Blu-ray, I highly recommend picking it up. It helps mitigate some of the datedness and reminds you just how skilled a filmmaker Garris is and why he’s often King’s choice for so many adaptations of King’s work. Still, even with my love and adoration for Garris’ work, I was ready for this new version told by Josh Boone and company.
My first reaction to the pilot episode wasn’t exactly favorable. Like many, I was jolted by the flashback structure, and I realized that this approach was probably chosen because the filmmakers didn’t want to repeat Garris’ straightforward narrative. More importantly, they likely didn’t want to spend too much time on a plague that had wiped out 99% of the world’s population, especially with viewers at home during a real-life pandemic.
As much as I loved Gary Sinise’s portrayal of Stu, he never quite fit the character in my mind. James Marsden, on the other hand, not only fit the role but at times seemed to leap right off the page and onto the screen. Stu is a stoic character — he’s someone who, even in his confusion and uncertainty, is always firmly on the side of good. He’s the type of character I wish I were more like. When I first read The Stand, Stu had always been steadfast and true to himself. The same goes for Stu in this adaptation. The scene where he’s under quarantine, confused and angry as they try to figure out what’s happening to him, took me right back to those pages in the book. Sure, some of the doctor characters were eliminated or merged into one, but something about that scene really captured the essence of the book.
Most of the characters match my internal image of them, with many of the leads excelling. However, some missed the mark, and a few took time to grow on me, particularly Randall Flagg (Alexander Skarsgård) and even Vegas itself. This version of Vegas is grittier, more grounded in 2020 than the glamorous depiction from the book. Flagg, too, differs from the one in the book. The book’s Flagg is all about control, even going so far as to ban drugs among his followers. This Flagg, on the other hand, seems more relaxed, encouraging his followers to break free from the constraints of society — so long as they follow him. Despite the differences, this is still Flagg. He’s charismatic and inviting, creating a world where people can indulge their carnal desires, yet he remains as evil and terrifying as any version of the character I’ve seen before. It’s his charm, his manipulation, and the way he controls his followers through fear. Flagg is the unreliable, unpredictable figure that King has woven into multiple stories. In this Vegas, there are orgies and death matches every night, but anyone who questions Flagg or defies his plans becomes an example for others. People are crucified along the Vegas Strip, or they beat each other senseless. It’s a false promise of freedom and security, one that requires total obedience to a single man. But like any promise based on absolute control, it’s not as good as it seems.
This is when it clicked for me: this is just another “Turn of the Wheel.”[1] This version will be different from the others because it’s part of the ever-evolving structure of the story. Sure, many of the key moments will remain the same, but this time we get to see more of the world and spend more time with certain characters and less with others. Some things feel familiar, while others don’t. And that works, because everything has happened to these characters, turn after turn — sometimes we just see it from a different perspective.
Once I embraced this view, it freed me to fully enjoy the journey the characters were taking this time. Maybe if it weren’t for The Dark Tower, my perspective would be different. I know many who aren’t fond of this version, but I think the coda written by King confirms this approach and adds more than just an Easter egg. Instead of Ka being a wheel, here it’s time that’s a wheel. It’s a powerful concept: time changes, starts over, and we must take our stand in the world we live in. Doing this from Frannie’s (Odessa Young) perspective was an inspired choice, and it gives her a moment to take her “stand,” which was sadly missing from the book and the first adaptation. This shift in the ending tells the viewer that this will all happen again. Time is cyclical, and everything that has transpired will happen once more. I like that change; it fits well within the world of The Stand, and even more so within the broader context of King’s work.
The Stand will forever be my favorite story, and I’m grateful to experience this turn of the wheel. This isn’t the last time this tale will be told. It’s just the latest incarnation. I look forward to adding this version to my ongoing experience of this world and these characters where not everything is the same, but the wheel turns, time changes, and we must take our stand in the world we live in, more now than ever. 🩸
Footnotes
[1] “Ka is a wheel; its one purpose is to turn. The spin of ka always brings us back to the same place, to face and reface our mistakes and defeats until we can learn from them. When we learn from the past, the wheel continues to move forward, towards growth and evolution. When we don’t, the wheel spins backward, and we are given another chance. If once more we squander the opportunity, the wheel continues its rotation towards devolution, or destruction.” ― Robin Furth, Stephen King’s The Dark Tower: The Complete Concordance
About
Justin Drabek is a contributing writer for Manor Vellum. He also writes for Horror Obsessive and formerly for Killer Horror Critic. He loves cats, and dogs seem to like him…he’s not so sure about them.
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