Lord of the Flies: The Outcast Classic Is Surreal Horror So Excellent You’ll Feel Sick The Whole Time | TV and radio

CFar-flung stories, from Cast Away to The Martian, are often feel-good classics. They are tales of a brilliant person overcoming enormous odds, a triumphant metaphor for the human spirit. Here’s a funny thing: Outcast stories that depict large groups of people do exactly the opposite. Forced to self-organize, they ended up eating each other. Exception missing; I don’t know what that was about. Polar bears?

Needless to say I love them all. So it’s exciting to see a new kid on the block – or rather, an old boy. William Golding’s novel Lord of the Flies, about a group of British schoolchildren who land on a desert island, has been part of the UK school curriculum for more than 60 years. I wonder if we have forgotten the books we were forced to study, and forced to rediscover them later in life. I know this story well, but I’m not sure I can say I’ve lived it in full until the release of the stunning new BBC version (Sunday, 9pm, BBC One).

It is promising that the film will be adapted by Jack Thorne. Every time a new Jack Thorne drama comes out, which is no more than twice a month, my writer friends wonder about his amazing talent. Why does this man write as if he is running out of time? As if he found himself in possession of the last pen on earth? Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, This is England, The Toxic City, His Dark Materials, The Bathers, The Virtues, Motive and Sign. I’ve seen adolescence. Did this guy put his fingers into the socket while doing manual labor, and now electricity is flowing out of them?

Lord of the Flies brings Thorne back to the theme of developing masculinity, in a 1950s setting. Except that’s the thing about desert islands: they stay the same. Without clothes, you will lose another mark of time. Aside from the radio hissing over the opening credits, and the occasional use of period language from the book, there’s nothing in this four-parter that doesn’t sound contemporary, and painfully so. Think of it as Adolescence: The Origins.

The miniseries is directed by BAFTA award-winning director Mark Munden, and from the first episode, the series takes no prisoners. In television terms, it distances the audience from familiar comforts as much as it alienates the stranded boys. Dialogue is sparse, shots linger too long, and the fourth wall is broken too often. This occurs through repeated close-ups of the boys’ faces. They look back at us, up into the lens, saying – what? They are weak? aggression? Mystery says.

Boys are a diverse bunch, which doesn’t mean there isn’t a class analysis as well. The entrance of a band of the Canterbury Choir wearing top hats, preparing a white sand beach to the tune of religious hymns, is an extraordinary, mirage-like image. Luxurious, confident, redolent of ski holidays, and driven by Jack. After losing the primary leadership election to the more responsible Ralph, Jack decides that his followers will be the Hunters, a group in their own right.

“I hope no adults come for a week, so we can have some fun!” Jack the Crow, played by newcomer Lux Pratt, who I really hope is cute in real life. I’ll avoid spoilers (although the novel was written in 1954, and was pumped more to children than brown asthma inhalers). Let’s just say we all have different ideas of fun. Some of us love waffles and banana bread. Others like to set things on fire. The latter tends to have a greater impact on everyone.

It’s almost comical how quickly everything catches on fire. “Toilets, water, building huts, boring!” complains Jack, who wants to drive without guardrails. He may have been wearing a “Make Desert Island Great Again” hat; He’s actually wearing a face shroud made from clothing salvaged from a dead woman’s purse. Is this a story about politics or toxic masculinity? They are one and the same, that is the dismal proposition. The presentation is excellent, akin to Joseph Conrad’s fever, with moments of surreal horror. Still, I felt sick while watching it. I have never been more grateful to live under the rule of law, the ultimate dweeb charter.

Jack Thorne’s production remains unparalleled. He definitely needs a break from this stuff, go on vacation or something. Can anyone recommend a quiet beach?