Past Traumas and An Old-Fashioned De-Gloving
Today we’re talking about Gerald and his game of severe consequences. This King adaptation aired on Netflix in 2017 and was directed by the amazing Mike Flanagan. Nowadays, when you hear King & Flanagan, you know it’s going to be good. But back in 2017, I wondered how the hell they were going to successfully adapt such a unique novel to the screen without losing the story’s potency. If you’ve read Gerald’s Game, you know how very wrong this could’ve gone. A protagonist stuck in bed throughout the vast majority of the book, reliving past traumas, with very few characters to play off. Traditionally, these wouldn’t be considered the ingredients for a great novel or film. But King and Flanagan are no chumps, and what we got instead was a deftly constructed film with depth, style, intrigue, and substance.
Since its release, I’ve re-watched this film approximately once a year. Not deliberately. It just happens that I’ll be searching for something reliably good, and I’ll spot Gerald’s Game. I most recently did this last week, when I realized my youngest hadn’t yet seen it. Very little gore (with the exception of one incredibly earned scene I'll never forget), great storytelling, compelling character dynamics, and amazing attention to detail. It’s our preferred flavor of psychological horror, and it offers a reliably great movie-watching experience. But something was different this time.
The first viewing of a film is usually the most unreliable, yet the most genuinely experienced. Emotionally speaking, our most genuine reactions will be felt throughout the initial viewing. We’ll laugh the most, cringe the most, fear the most, cry the most, etc. A new film is just that: New. It’s a journey we’ve never taken, with emotions we’ve possibly never traversed, and so the element of surprise is in play. This makes for a lot of fun. But there’s something to be said for subsequent viewings. Sure, some of the spontaneity is gone, but that leaves room to properly analyze the film, and to take in those smaller details you missed in the initial excitement.
I still remember watching Gerald’s Game the day it premiered. Dinner done, dishes clean, and the kiddos off to bed, my husband and I settled in. I wasn’t terribly familiar with Mike Flanagan at that point. This was before The Haunting of Hill House, Doctor Sleep, or Bly Manor. I’d seen Hush and Oculus, which I enjoyed, and Ouija, which I didn’t enjoy. As far as I was concerned, it was a coin toss. Sure, the trailer was promising, but the cast? I wasn’t super familiar with Bruce Greenwood’s work, and Carla Gugino had seemingly disappeared since the days of Son in Law. She hadn’t, of course. But her parts had often been small and obscure—none of which came close to putting her talent on display like Flanagan’s work has. Still, I knew Netflix was churning out decent material, and I had been pleasantly surprised by two of Flanagan's films, so I dove in, more curious than anything.
That first viewing left me pleased. I liked it. Love would’ve been too strong a word. But I also knew there was more to the film. Not the story—I had a firm grasp on that. But the language of the film. Not the dialogue, but the rhythm of it, the dance. I was so busy watching how they adapted the story, I glossed over just how beautifully they’d adapted it.
Gerald’s Game offers a simple yet terrifying concept. A woman who’s been running from monsters her whole life finds herself at the mercy of her own thoughts when her husband dies suddenly during an exotic game that leaves her handcuffed to a bed. A chilling concept. Throw in everything else our protagonist is contending with, and you’ve got the makings of one hellacious, Mt. Saint Helen-sized mental eruption. Fears taint the senses, dehydration fogs the mind, the threat of lunacy leaves room for doubt, and the past is only a memory away. A true nightmare for our protagonist, who’s spent her life under the proverbial covers, even though we all know that doesn’t mean the monsters aren’t lurking beyond. Just means you can’t see them coming.
As always, I won’t offer any spoilers. I’ve said what I can about the plot. And it’s a great plot. But as is usually the case, the plot is only the frame. Not to minimize plotting. Without a sturdy concept, you’ve got nothing to flesh out, leaving your story a sloppy pile of meat and flesh, with no legs to stand on. And Gerald’s Game offers a more intriguing plot than most. But that could be said for several of King's novels. Still, that hasn’t always made for the most successful adaptations, which almost always boils down to poor execution. Luckily for viewers, this is where Flanagan shines. The man knows how to breathe life into an idea.
So, we’ve got a great plot. But the magic Gerald’s Game offers comes in many other forms. All our more practical areas are covered. Great lighting, cinematography, music, set design, etc.—the things film nerds are into but the general audience doesn’t notice, unless they’re done poorly. The basics are covered, with solid grades across the board. But these aren’t the absolute darlings of moviemaking. Writing, directing, acting, and storytelling. These are what separate the majors from the minors. And this is where Gerald’s Game, like all great movies, does its best work.
The acting in this film was fantastic. Bruce Greenwood and Carla Gugino hit their roles out of the park, which was made all the more enjoyable by their minor obscurity. We expect great things from big names, while often underestimating those with names we have to repeat twice. Without giving too much away, Bruce Greenwood played a unique role, portraying an interpretation of himself as seen through his wife’s eyes. This could’ve been done excessively, without objectivity and consideration for both characters, resulting in a disconnection between the audience and the character, but through amazing writing and directing, we get to know exactly who Gerald is, while simultaneously getting to know exactly who Jessie is. Bruce Greenwood did a fine job, delving into the ego of Gerald and conveying his complexities and abrasive energy, while also knowing how to pull back and administer just enough love, even if it is veiled in contempt. His was a solid performance, with fantastic interplay between him and Carla Gugino.
As for Carla Gugino, it’s needless to say she’s come a long way since starring alongside Pauly Shore in Son in Law. To say she acted well in Gerald’s Game would be an understatement. She had to answer to a high calling with this project. Most actors and actresses will never be given the opportunity to showcase their talent in a film like this, nor would many of them prove capable of doing so. It’s an incredibly difficult task, acting alone, playing off yourself. It means carrying the weight of a film largely on your back—portraying all the emotions of a broken character, while also acting as the driving force behind the film’s momentum. Carla Gugino not only proved capable, she fucking nailed it! Despite the restrictions inherent to being confined to a bed, I never found her screen time monotonous, nor was I bored by her or her journey. On the contrary, it’s what propels the story forward. And because she didn’t under or over sell the character of Jessie (which would’ve been very easy to do), the character was always believable, and her ever-evolving journey compelling. Spending nearly the entire film in a state of distress, Carla Gugino maintained energy throughout, while upholding the integrity of the character. Take after take, she brought authenticity to a shoot that must’ve been exhausting.
Without believable characters, a story like this would sink. It’s completely character driven, relying solely on the protagonist (and her mental state) to tell the viewer how to feel, what to fear, and where to place their hope. When you’re on such an intimate journey with your protagonist, character development is paramount, and the manner in which the story is told is critical. Mike Flannigan does this exceedingly well, seamlessly blending these crucial elements together with such deftness, the viewer walks away satisfied but with no real idea how much skill it actually took to complete the task.
A film like this could’ve failed at nearly every turn. If heavy attention to detail hadn’t been used to finesse every scene and bit of dialogue, Gerald’s Game might’ve been unrealistic, or campy, or silly, or gratuitously graphic, or over-sexualized, or over-dramatic, or any number of things you don’t want your film to be. But with Flanagan, it seems every word of dialogue is considered, every turn the story takes is weighed, and every characteristic is carefully formed. It’s storytelling and character-building gold, and it makes for beautiful looking films that tell equally beautiful stories, even if they do portray some of the ugliest aspects of humanity. What Flanagan does the absolute best is peel back the skin, exposing painful truths by telling the tales of broken people. In other words: He knows how to tell human stories, with fantastically horrific elements that have earned him a place in the horror genre.
So what was different during this last viewing? Nothing drastic. The movie hasn’t changed, of course. Same plot, same actors, same outcome. But the small intricacies of the film really stood out this time, like never before. Those seemingly small details, from a scene shift, to a singular word choice during a bit of dialogue, to a color choice. With time, the brilliant qualities of this movie have revealed themselves, and my appreciation for it continues to grow.
Gerald’s Game is triggering. It’s engaging. It’s scary and lovely and thoughtfully told, and its impact grows with each viewing. The more you watch, the more you’ll pick up on subtle nuances. If slashers and jump scares are strictly your thing, Gerald’s Game might not be your next destination. But if you enjoy thoughtful horror—the spine-tingling stuff of real monsters—give Gerald’s Game a try. Like many of Mike Flanagan’s projects, this film offers something for all film lovers, even those who don’t consider themselves horror fans.
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