Seven young outcasts in Derry, Maine, are about to face their worst nightmare -- an ancient, shape-shifting evil that emerges from the sewer every 27 years to prey on the town's children. Banding together over the course of one horrifying summer, the friends must overcome their own personal fears to battle the murderous, bloodthirsty clown known as Pennywise.
I delayed watching It because I had that nostalgic love of the original Tim Curry miniseries from 1990. That series had such memorable moments and imagery that it really stuck in my mind and wasn't something that I thought would ever need to be replaced. I then made the mistake of rewatching it, and realising that while Tim Curry was an absolutely brilliant rendition of Pennywise the Clown, the rest of the series was not quite as high quality; clunky dialogue, cheap special effects, and tedious melodramatic moments whenever Pennywise was absent.
So how does this new adaptation of Stephen King's book stack up? Well, it's pretty gosh darn good. 27 years on from the mini-series (the relevance of that number is not lost on fans of the story), and the visual technology has improved immensely. Where the mini-series was held back by budgetary and technological constraints, Andrés Muschietti's iteration does wonders at blurring the lines between practical effects and CGI on a modest horror budget (35 million USD).
The character of Pennywise has quite a noticeable change. Tim Curry's interpretation worked well by switching from the lovable, sweet-looking, innocent clown, to a horrible nightmare-inducing shape-shifting inter-dimensional spider. The contrast helped keep to its even lower budget (12 million USD) while providing a great visual contrast that brought the fear. Bill Skarsgård's Pennywise, on the other hand, always looks a little off. Erratic behaviour and tics, odd requests, and his strabismus (misaligned eye) all combine to create an uncomfortable persona that doesn't initially feel all that threatening, but constantly leaves you on edge. Even the costuming is much different with Pennywise wearing the frills of a 19th-century clown--rather than the cheap wig, fake nose, and garish clothes that modern clowns are known for--giving Pennywise, authenticity, presence, and speaks to the length of time that this being has been around for.
This new adaptation is split into two parts as well, and in this case, 2017's It focuses solely on the story of the children, leaving the adult storylines for It: Chapter Two. This is where the It really shines compared to the 1990 edition. While it is unable to focus on all of our lovable Loser's Club, it does still manage to provide a good level of backstory and development to our main stable of characters. More importantly, it focuses purely on what Pennywise is after; their fears. While the 1990 miniseries felt disjointed, overly dramatic, and unequivocally "unscary" when Pennywise wasn't in the scene, 2017's It features Pennywise much more prominently, and if he is initially absent, the film still develops and reveals the fears of our group. Being burnt alive, an abusive father, clowns, diseases and illnesses, each child has their own fears that are constantly being preyed on, and it keeps the tension high throughout the film.
The visuals can be a double-edged sword though. While the effects are very impressive, and the cinematography is mid-blowingly inventive with their use of perspective changes, there is a certain crisp sleekness that pervades the film. No matter how grungy and dirty a scene may be designed, there is something manufactured about the look that doesn't quite feel genuine. It is the sort of thing that could actually reduce the fear one feels as they become aware of the situation and gain some form of control.
It doesn't hold back. There is no facade; the threat is constantly there, even when our antagonist is absent. The effervescent character of Bill Skarsgård's Pennywise is beyond creepy, and the unknown boundaries to the powers of this cosmic being present an engaging challenge for our protagonists that has you gripping the edge of your seat.