Lord of the Flies towers above the field of English-language allegory such a prominent part of literary canon that one tends to forget just how young the novel actually is – a mere 72 years, to be precise. One may also fail to remember, from somewhere in a lecture hall long ago, that William Golding’s novel, in its first draft at least, is based on contemporary experience, from the author’s war service during World War II to a reading of The Coral Island, R.M. Ballantyne’s utopian adventure story about shipwrecked boys coming together to survive, to his children. It seems almost impossible, in light of decades of television dramas inspired by the work, including Yellowjackets, Survivor, and Lost, that the novel hadn’t yet been brought to television until this year. Appropriation, maybe, is part of the reason we’ve collectively disremembered the novel’s nuances. Lord of the Flies stands as a parable of humanity’s fall into barbarity. It is much more than that, however.
Jack Thorne hasn’t forgotten any of this. Author of many of the finest television dramas exploring social issues, including the disturbing Adolescence, Thorne brings to his adaptation of Lord of the Flies (which premiered on the BBC in February and can now be streamed on Netflix) a keen understanding of not only Golding’s novel but the contemporary relevance of its themes. Brought to life with brilliant cinematography and stellar performances from the child actors, Thorne’s psychological interpretation provides insight into the unconscious forces driving contemporary political turmoil.
While generally sticking to the plot, this Lord of the Flies masterfully tweaks its tale of mid-century schoolboys marooned on a deserted island by adapting it for episodic television by telling each episode through the eyes of a different pre-adolescent protagonist. The first is smart, pragmatic, but frail Piggy (David McKenna, making an extraordinary acting debut). He wanders around in the wake of the tragic airplane crash where he and the others survive, where he encounters the brave, benevolent, and fair-minded Ralph (Winston Sawyer), who personifies the civilizing influence and will emerge as their democratically-elected chieftain. As the thinker who considers such matters as sanitation and suggests starting a fire to alert rescuers to their presence, Piggy assists Ralph in leveraging the trust of their constituents to form a makeshift democratic government that cares even for the smallest and most vulnerable survivors.
The harmony quickly falls apart. After one boy claims to see a "beastie," panic ensues at the camp. Seizing the opportunity, Ralph's arch-rival Jack (Lox Pratt, a notable performance), who commands the slightly older and more cohesive choirboys, who have assumed the mantle of hunters, attempts to take control through sheer physical force. By turns brutal and debauched, domineering and indulgent, Jack appeals to the baser instincts of the children by leading wild hunts for pigs, followed by orgiastic feasts which give them a sense of invincibility. The manifestation of the bestial impulses that, during Golding's era, spurred the formation of fascism, Jack has a figurative angel on one shoulder—empathic and spiritual Simon (Ike Talbut)—and a sadistic devil, Roger (Thomas Connor), on the other.
Thorne evokes life on the island so palpably—through vibrant, even sometimes infra-red colors and scenes without dialogue and tight close-ups of pure faces gradually growing more and more soiled and bloody—that occasionally Thorne’s interludes with the boys before the crash become distracting interruptions to the drama unfolding on the screen. (The creator of Adolescence cannot help but trace these sons back to their fathers.) Not only are these unnecessary because they detract from the power of the plane crash as an exposé of these characters, their archetypes, and their personalities, they are also distracting because they have no place in the Lord of the Flies of this day and age.
The geopolitics of World War II are a distant memory and so, too, are our egalitarians and authoritarians. But there’s still a great deal about humanity to be learned from the story. The brilliance of this interpretation of the classic novel comes in updating the internal lives of these characters rather than their circumstances. Tenderness becomes rare and treasured among young men fighting for any chance at conveying masculinity. When Ralph is unable to come up with a decent solution that adheres to his democratic beliefs, he finds himself justifying Jack’s undemocratic ambitions. And Jack becomes the most interesting boy in the lot: fragile, delusional, and certainly not completely self-interested, but terrified of doing anything himself while filling his camp full of affection and inciting hatred among the opposition with inflammatory speeches. We see how his weakness feeds into Ralph’s noble failings, and vice versa.
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