The 1963 film adaptation of William Golding’s literary classic (and middle-school English-class staple) Lord of the Flies, by director Peter Brook, is a masterpiece. It’s one of the great films that captures the essence of the origin tome perfectly.
The characters of Ralph, Piggy, Jack, Simon and other English schoolboys—marooned on an island after a plane crash during a (probably nuclear) war—came to life in a way that made you think they must’ve made the movie before the book. Brook and co. were incredibly faithful to Golding’s words. The use of stark black and white gave the movie a newsreel feel, like a documentarian was filming the events as the boys descended from proper English gentlemen into savagery.
BBC’s new Lord of the Flies miniseries, now available on Netflix, is also a masterpiece, but in different ways. It’s much longer; the 1963 film was 92 minutes, while the new miniseries is about four hours long (four one-hour episodes named after the characters mentioned above) and filmed in lush color. The extra running time allows for flashbacks and further fleshing out of the characters. (Yes, there was a 1990 full-color adaptation of the novel starring Balthazar Getty. It was trash and shall not be mentioned further.)
While the original film created solid, full-bodied characters, the miniseries’ chance to go deeper with these kids is not only engaging, but invaluable. One of the great achievements of 20th century literature now has two very different and equally awesome film approaches thanks to director Marc Munden.
In his screen debut, David McKenna will break your heart as Piggy, who implores his comrades to maintain order and civility as the situation turns to chaos. His tending to the younger children and his sweetness in the face of true terror is hauntingly beautiful. Hugh Edwards, who played Piggy in 1963 in his one and only film role, created an amazing characterization. McKenna’s take is honorable—and then so much more.
Winston Sawyers, also a newcomer, is a solid choice for Ralph, the tribe’s original leader. Again, the extra time spent on his background—showing his tragic life before the island—brings a new dignity to the already dignified young man.
As the troubled Jack, Lox Pratt offers a chilling depiction of psychosis as a reaction to stress. He’s arguably the most dignified of the boys at the beginning, as their strict choir leader, but by the time he’s hunting pigs, he’s spiraled into one major breakdown. Munden takes the longer running time to give us significant looks at Jack’s makeup, including his unusual reaction to a plane crash. Pratt is also making his acting debut here—and it comes as no surprise that he has been cast as Draco Malfoy in the new Harry Potter adaptation on HBO. He is Draco personified.
The most changed character is that of Simon, played by Ike Talbut. The mostly quiet, angelic Christ-figure boy from the original is now a more vocal, slightly awkward kid. If you were to assess Talbut’s Christ figure status in the film, his is more Willem Dafoe (The Last Temptation of Christ) than James Caviezel (The Passion of the Christ).
It’s hard to mess with a classic. Brook’s Lord of the Flies seemed like a feat that couldn’t be topped. While Munden’s take doesn’t necessarily do that, it is a highly entertaining, equally relevant, respectful treatment of the classic.
English teachers now have a nice dilemma in choosing which interpretation of the novel to screen for their students. The new one is bloodier and will take up at least two classes instead of one. If I were in middle school again, I’d vote for the new one—it lets teach put their feet up for a little longer.
Lord of the Flies is now streaming on Netflix.