This is a real struggle for me. I don’t like to not like things. Even if I’m not enjoying something I have to review, I try to have fun with it. I’ll try to assess its merits as best I can, give it a fair chance and a strong critique, but being a hater? That’s not my style. But this show is… bad. It’s gone from something I’d recommend my friends with teenage kids who have never read the book to something I’d maybe wish on my worst enemy. What once felt like a poor adaptation of one of my favorite comics is turning into a cautionary tale of how not to make TV. The worst part is that a lot of the people involved are clearly talented- and the show is flushing all the good acting and production design down the drain! So I am gonna be a bit of a hater, because Locke & Key on Netflix deserves it. OK. Let’s talk about “The Keepers of the Keys.”
1. What even is writing?
Well, if I’m gonna be honest about my issues with this show, I think I need to start with a big one: the dialogue is actively bad. “Hey Rufus, has your mom ever mentioned someone named Lucas?” Bode asks. “Oh yeah, he was her first love,” he answers, “He died. She still gets sad about it sometimes.” Not “he was her friend,” or “he was her boyfriend.” Is that how you’d talk about your mom’s dead ex? I know I sure as hell wouldn’t.
I don’t mind when TV characters don’t talk like real people, but there needs to be a rhythm, a style to their words. Joss Whedon shows work because everyone is quippy, too clever by half, and faux-awkward. Vince Gilligan shows are best when the characters are talking through long anecdotes/metaphors. The dialogue in Locke & Key is what the world would sound like if life was scripted by disinterested TV writers who wanted to go home. Everyone says the fewest words they need to in order to convey the information that will drive the characters to do the next thing the plot requires. They talk in spurts of information. It’s maddening.
2. #FearlessKinsey
On to the specifics of the plot though- we knew Kinsey was gonna give herself a makeover this episode and that at least does not disappoint. After all, what else do teens do when they enter their psychic mindspace and eliminate the concept of their ability to feel fear? Kinsey’s behavior changes in a lot of ways in what is the highlight of this episode. She’s more confident. Maybe a little inconsiderate. She’s… mildly (and erroneously) critical of her mom? And this really sets Tyler off who gets judgmental which is as hypocritical as it is annoying. After justifying the beatdown he gave that non-character last episode (an event that everyone seems to have moved on from), suddenly he’s really worried that Kinsey is awkwardly giving her mom a feedback sandwich. And look, I guess any bad writing can be excused by saying, “teenagers, amiright?” but that gets tiresome to watch. And it’s not like anyone else’s behavior is dictated by anything resembling the real world. So instead of contrived drama, maybe… I don’t know, find something else to do with these characters? (I for one would suggest adapting the comic that this show is named after).
We also see how those Savini kids feel about #FearlessKinsey, and they are bad friends! They are so excited to let this traumatized girl get involved in their splatter flick after they’ve seen what it does to her- twice! Seriously, she comes out to do their gory movie thing and has a panic attack so understandable, a mental-health denying Boomer would be like, “Oh yeah, that girl has clear trauma.” Than she assures them all that she’s OK, asks to star in their movie and has another panic attack. And their reaction when she does the same thing a third time, one week into knowing her. “Wow, Kinsey has changed. New Kinsey is pretty cool.” This is the worst goddamn town I’ve ever seen.
3. Grown ups just don’t understand.
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We check in with a couple of the adults of Matheson throughout the episode, and they all know something is up, but not a one of them knows what. That’s not their fault- the Riffel Rule is in effect, remember? They literally can’t remember. But man it’s hard to be a Matheson grown up.
First we’ve got Ellie Whedon, and literally what does she do all day besides come over to be the world’s most supportive neighbor? In the comic she was the school track coach, she was raising her teenage son, and taking care of her evil mother. Here she just seems to have no friends except for Nina Locke, and she lives for coming over for coffee and some of that aforementioned exposition. Ellie, respect yourself and your part in this story.
Then we meet Ellie’s childhood friend Erin Voss. The show made Ellie the black supportive friend who has no interests of her own. And now they’ve gone and made Erin Voss white, after her blackness was such an important part of her comic book story. As with a lot of the comic, it wasn’t something written with an ounce of subtlety, but it was an interesting story about peoples’ prejudices and assumptions. Comic Erin is treated as intolerant by the town, when in fact her shouts of “White! White!” are connected to a magical torture inflicted on her by Dodge. I’m not saying that story is better, but I always appreciated the comic for taking big swings in telling stories about marginalized people. The show seems to prefer avoiding those topics altogether.
Then we’ve got Mister Ridgeway, who is played with a lot of charisma by character actor Steven Williams. There’s something magical about his performance. He doesn’t feel like he’s in the same show as anyone else, but he’s so magnetic that he totally takes over the show whenever he’s on the screen. He meddles in a pretty obnoxious way throughout the episode, but when he was droning on about his wife and gardening, well, I couldn’t look away. That’s the alchemy of a good cast!
4. All these girls can do better
Tyler uses the Head Key to make himself an expert in everything he thinks Cute Girl Jackie is into. He’s such a lousy flirt though, it’s like a train wreck. He recites facts for her, and she tries to show genuine interest, but he’s got nothing to say about any of it, which is actually an interesting fantasy problem to have. He’s got all this knowledge, but it hasn’t really changed who he is and what he’s into. But she’s asking a hundred questions and when Tyler gives her nothing, she starts talking about her favorite Jane Austin book. Not Pride and Prejudice, that’s basic. She’s much more into Sanditon. Now, the point of the scene is that using the Head Key to enhance your flirting is a tricky proposition, but my main takeaway is that Jackie is a lovely girl and that Tyler is a doofus.
Speaking of flirting, #FearlessKinsey is totally DTF, but her confidence is totally intimidating to Scot. And power to him, despite Kinsey busting out the Head Key and being disarmingly forward, he tries to keep it together and hey, I can’t say I could do any better. Of course, the exposition-y dialogue sort of washes out all possible chemistry. Still, I get the appeal of teenage magic memory flirting. Kinsey and Scot get to share parts of themselves with each other while Scot gets to be excited that magic is real and promise Kinsey that her brain is um, an imperfect machine. Man, teenage boys is bad.
5. Keygion of Doom
In the final moments of the episode, Dodge give the Fire Key to Sam Lesser, clearly ready to spring him from jail. This is a curious pacing choice. Though Dodge is the antagonist throughout the comic series, the first volume is all about the Locke family and Sam. The show has already blown through most of the plot points of that first volume in the very first episode of the show, and is now taking its sweet time meandering through volumes two and three. Moving the Sam story around isn’t a bad decision necessarily, but the expert pacing of the comic seems to be replaced with the pacing of the average Netflix show- and that ain’t great!
