This Lord of the Flies review is spoiler-free.
Even if you’ve never actually read Lord of the Flies, you probably still know the story of Lord of the Flies. William Golding’s iconic novel was written over 70 years ago, but its influence can still be felt throughout our pop culture today. It has been parodied on The Simpsons and South Park. Dramas from Lost and The 100 to Yellowjackets have cribbed bits and pieces from its story. Heck, Stephen King named his town of Castle Rock after a fort in the novel. There’s probably even an argument to be made that reality elder statesman Survivor — and all the shows it subsequently spawned — owe Golding a debt of gratitude.)
The basic beats of its story are familiar, if not necessarily for the faint of heart: A tale of shipwrecked children stranded on a deserted island whose attempts to form a functioning society spiral into savagery, chaos, and death, it’s a showcase for the worst elements humanity is capable of, told using a group of its most vulnerable members. As such, it’s difficult to imagine a writer working today who’s better suited to telling this story than Jack Thorne. The creator of the critically acclaimed limited series Adolescence, which sparked a global conversation about toxic masculinity, internet culture, and what, precisely, is going on with teen boys today, this feels like nothing so much as the natural next step for him as a writer and creator, a trip back to the text that first interrogated so many similar questions.
The bones of the story remain the same. Set in the 1950s, Lord of the Flies follows a plane full of British schoolchildren, seemingly being evacuated from England during an unnamed and unexplained war. The plane crashes on a remote tropical island, the pilot dies, and the kids are left to fend for themselves, with no grown-ups to tell them what to do. What follows is a rapid descent into anarchy.
Though the boys initially elect a leader and attempt to impose familiar rules of structure and order — they are British, after all — things crumble rapidly. Factions form, fight, and fall out, with members arguing over everything from where to build lavatories to whether the weakest among them are worthy of care and protection. As the group splinters further, almost everyone descends into a kind of savagery, painting their faces with blood and clay, joining in chants and dances, and just generally becoming the monsters they’re so afraid lurk in the woods around them.
Golding’s work has been adapted for the screen a handful of times, this four-part Netflix drama is the first time the novel has been made into a television series. The shift in format not only gives its story more space to breathe, but also adds new flashbacks meant to flesh out several of the core characters’ histories. Each of its episodes is centers on one of the story’s four main characters: BrainyPiggy (David McKenna), cruel Jack (Lox Pratt), sensitive Simon (Ike Talbut), and well-meaning Ralph (Winston Sawyers).
With an assist from Piggy, Ralph is initially elected leader, thanks to being moderately good at sports and the son of a military officer. He comes into immediate conflict with the hyper-competitive Jack, a smug choirister who wants power for himself. Not content with being named leader of the “hunters”, a.k.a the squad charged with finding food for the rest of the camp, he sets out to undermine Ralph at every turn, ultimately using his charisma and disregard for rules to tempt those bored by his rival’s attempts to impose structure and order in such a wild locale.
The series’ cast, comprised of over thirty child actors of various ages with little to no acting experience, is phenomenal. It’s honestly incredibly refreshing to see actual kids cast as children for once, a move that not only makes the entire endeavor feel more realistic, but the characters inevitable descent into violence all the more harrowing. (So many of these kids are just so small.) McKenna is particularly excellent, imbuing Piggy with a level-headeness that feels beyond his years, a sly sense of humor, and a fervent belief in right and wrong. And Pratt, who is set to play Draco Malfoy in the forthcoming (and largely unnecessary) HBO Harry Potter series, already feels like a star in the making. HIs Jack is petulant and aggressive by turns, horrifying and infuriating in equal measure. (That kid is a Slytherin through and through, is what I’m saying.)
Even the island itself comes alive as a character in its own right. Director Marc Munden makes the most of the show’s lush Malaysian filming location, blending wildlife shots, vibrant colors, and beautiful vistas in a way that feels as much like a nature documentary as it does a TV drama. Extreme close-ups of the boys’s faces slide by, interspersed with shots of rotting fruit, dead animal carcasses, and a plethora of insects. Hallucinatory night shots see the forest drenched in reds and pinks, giving an otherworldly sheen to the world the boys find themselves in. As technical achievements go, this series is a complete success. (Well..except for the CGI wild pigs. Those aren’t great. But that’s a nitpick, in the grand scheme of things.)
As for its narrative, Golding’s lessons about the fragility of social norms, the dangers of tribalism, the appeal of charismatic leaders and the seductive nature of violence feel as timely and terrifying today as they ever have. (Possibly even more so, given, well…everthing.). Thorne smartly doesn’t attempt to draw direct parallels between the world of Lord of the Flies and our own present day, content to poke at broader truths and questions about human nature and let his audience draw their own conclusions. The result is something that feels bigger than the sum of its parts, and, at the very least, a rather convincing argument to give this book we read in English class so long ago another look.
All four episodes of Lord of the Flies are available to stream on Netflix now.
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