Brimstone: Pilot
May. 29th, 2026 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annavereAlright, rewatching Brimstone over here, so I had to scrounge the internet for a plausible (grainy, low res) multipurpose icon to bust out for the occasion. For anyone who might want to read these posts while watching the show, I will avoid discussing future episodes except in generalities.
So, it was 1998, and Brimstone was perfectly timed to fill the slot between the concluded Highlander and the debut of Angel a year later, with strong similarities to both shows in themes of hunting down villains who can only be killed by very specific methods (destroying the eyes rather than severing the head), a version of immortality, a quest for redemption and (most importantly) a man in a long coat wandering around alleys filled with dry ice.
The pilot is not terrible, but it's a bit heavy on the exposition and set up, with limited space to work with for something this high concept. A two-part pilot might have been a better choice for laying the groundwork. On the other hand, since this first villain is absolutely the least interesting one the writers (in this case, creators Ethan Reiff & Cyrus Voris) ever came up with, I'm fairly content that they breezed through this plot quickly, so we could move on to better things.
The opening scene with the eerily empty subway appears to be the conveyance out of hell (a detail I missed on my previous viewing, as it's given no context outside of Ezekiel Stone's disorientation). It creates a neat impression of him phasing into mortal reality, fifteen years out of time.
This show had a lot of stylistic flair, from the fantabulous typeface onward. It showed a real fondness for flashy quick cutting and overbearing color filters, beginning with a very strong blue tint which slowly fades over the course of subsequent episodes, symbolizing Ezekiel's return to the land of the living and the journey he is on toward finding redemption.
So much for artistic flourishes. Much of the first fifteen minutes are basically pure exposition, with the convenient confessional (reworked into the opening credit saga sell) to explain the basic premise and Stone's backstory of how he went to hell, and then the Devil dramatically drops by his apartment to give him a lecture which sounds a lot like the mission briefing of a video game and/or 80s fantasy movie, explaining quest, macguffin and potential reward before leaving him alone for the rest of the episode. Indeed, it was supposed to be for the rest of the show, but the chemistry between Peter Horton and John Glover was so good in this scene that the series was retooled to have the Devil dropping by in every episode.
I like how the power dynamic is immediately made clear. The Devil holds all the cards, and spends his time judging and belittling Stone with a smile on his face. The only power Stone has is a knowledge that the Devil needs him to clean up his mess, and that he has the freedom to talk back. Calling him a "corporate big shot." Snark is Stone's main response to all conversations, but it comes out most strongly against a worthy opponent.
Wonderful detail that the Devil arrives with thunder and lightning and cheesy booming laughter, but once Stone hits the pavement after the Devil unceremoniously pushes him off the fire escape, the theme of a playfully sad violin arrives and becomes the Devil's leitmotif, heralding the way things will be.
One of the fun elements of Zeke Stone's character is that (unlike Duncan MacLeod and Angel) he's deeply unconcerned with maintaining the masquerade. This is a guy who has spent fifteen years in hell. He knows what's coming next, what's waiting on the other side. He can state definitively "there is justice" and he can therefore shrug off what goes on around him on the earthly plane, which plays into his interactions with the skeptical cop Kane. Instead of trying to avoid questions, he just goes all in and doesn't have time for niceties.
Stone is a loose cannon, with no remaining ties to his old life - except for his wife, who has been a widow for fifteen years. Kane telling him she's moved to California at the close of the episode gives Stone a potential thread to follow, but it also gives him something to fear far more than the Devil. This also provides a nice emotional hook for the audience, exemplified in the wordless scene of him revisiting the house they lived in and the memories it holds, which I found very touching.
Also, Stone's dynamic with younger cop Kane is fairly entertaining.
I haven't really mentioned the actual plot yet. Huh. Could be a reason for that.
So, there's a really evil priest. Bald, sinister, ranting about his mission of divine provenance, barely blinking. Peter Woodward does not use subtlety in this performance, nor does the script call for it. He's running around killing people with a sharpened cross, despite being able to burn them with his hands. There's not a lot to think deeply about or morally wrestle with about this particular escapee from Hell. The one interesting aspect of all this is that he's trying to trigger the Second Coming in a universe that is confirmed to be run by God, yet he went straight to Hell. This could have led to an interesting conversation about hubris and how murder is still a sin, but it's never picked up on, and he's treated as just a crackpot, despite his worldview being extremely accurate to the universe he exists in.
Also, everybody keeps calling the Book of Revelation, Revelations, too frequently for it to be accepted as a flubbed line. If you're gonna go fullblown religious horror involving sacrificing altar boys, at least pick up a Bible and check the name of the Book you'll be quoting from.
Of course, this plotline means child actors are necessarily involved alongside Woodward's Extreme Evilness and fairly standard central casting cops. So it's no wonder the creative team looked at the assembled cast and went, "I think this needs more John Glover."
In fairness, the blind priest Father Horn offers a chance for Stone to have a meaningful discussion about evil, justice and vengeance, so it's not all by numbers.
A nitpick from later in the show: How did Stone pay for his motel room?
The big showdown at the end did use a cool location (disused rail lines buried under New York City) and established the necessary element of it being quite difficult to destroy the eyes of the damned. Try it from a distance, and it's a small target for even a good marksman to hit. Get up close, and grappling is inevitable - and only the damned can hurt the damned. It also establishes that "the longer you're in Hell, the more it becomes a part of you," granting each damned soul of the week their own unique hellish powers, variety being the spice of life.
So over all, it's a fairly clear cut script that offers a blueprint for a good urban fantasy case of the week show, but it doesn't have much staying power taken on its own. It is very much a pilot, setting up a dark and troubled world for its dark and troubled protagonist to navigate, but leaving the hard questions about Stone's own actions and the larger ethical quandaries fueling heaven and hell for another day.
So, it was 1998, and Brimstone was perfectly timed to fill the slot between the concluded Highlander and the debut of Angel a year later, with strong similarities to both shows in themes of hunting down villains who can only be killed by very specific methods (destroying the eyes rather than severing the head), a version of immortality, a quest for redemption and (most importantly) a man in a long coat wandering around alleys filled with dry ice.
The pilot is not terrible, but it's a bit heavy on the exposition and set up, with limited space to work with for something this high concept. A two-part pilot might have been a better choice for laying the groundwork. On the other hand, since this first villain is absolutely the least interesting one the writers (in this case, creators Ethan Reiff & Cyrus Voris) ever came up with, I'm fairly content that they breezed through this plot quickly, so we could move on to better things.
The opening scene with the eerily empty subway appears to be the conveyance out of hell (a detail I missed on my previous viewing, as it's given no context outside of Ezekiel Stone's disorientation). It creates a neat impression of him phasing into mortal reality, fifteen years out of time.
This show had a lot of stylistic flair, from the fantabulous typeface onward. It showed a real fondness for flashy quick cutting and overbearing color filters, beginning with a very strong blue tint which slowly fades over the course of subsequent episodes, symbolizing Ezekiel's return to the land of the living and the journey he is on toward finding redemption.
So much for artistic flourishes. Much of the first fifteen minutes are basically pure exposition, with the convenient confessional (reworked into the opening credit saga sell) to explain the basic premise and Stone's backstory of how he went to hell, and then the Devil dramatically drops by his apartment to give him a lecture which sounds a lot like the mission briefing of a video game and/or 80s fantasy movie, explaining quest, macguffin and potential reward before leaving him alone for the rest of the episode. Indeed, it was supposed to be for the rest of the show, but the chemistry between Peter Horton and John Glover was so good in this scene that the series was retooled to have the Devil dropping by in every episode.
I like how the power dynamic is immediately made clear. The Devil holds all the cards, and spends his time judging and belittling Stone with a smile on his face. The only power Stone has is a knowledge that the Devil needs him to clean up his mess, and that he has the freedom to talk back. Calling him a "corporate big shot." Snark is Stone's main response to all conversations, but it comes out most strongly against a worthy opponent.
Wonderful detail that the Devil arrives with thunder and lightning and cheesy booming laughter, but once Stone hits the pavement after the Devil unceremoniously pushes him off the fire escape, the theme of a playfully sad violin arrives and becomes the Devil's leitmotif, heralding the way things will be.
One of the fun elements of Zeke Stone's character is that (unlike Duncan MacLeod and Angel) he's deeply unconcerned with maintaining the masquerade. This is a guy who has spent fifteen years in hell. He knows what's coming next, what's waiting on the other side. He can state definitively "there is justice" and he can therefore shrug off what goes on around him on the earthly plane, which plays into his interactions with the skeptical cop Kane. Instead of trying to avoid questions, he just goes all in and doesn't have time for niceties.
Stone is a loose cannon, with no remaining ties to his old life - except for his wife, who has been a widow for fifteen years. Kane telling him she's moved to California at the close of the episode gives Stone a potential thread to follow, but it also gives him something to fear far more than the Devil. This also provides a nice emotional hook for the audience, exemplified in the wordless scene of him revisiting the house they lived in and the memories it holds, which I found very touching.
Also, Stone's dynamic with younger cop Kane is fairly entertaining.
I haven't really mentioned the actual plot yet. Huh. Could be a reason for that.
So, there's a really evil priest. Bald, sinister, ranting about his mission of divine provenance, barely blinking. Peter Woodward does not use subtlety in this performance, nor does the script call for it. He's running around killing people with a sharpened cross, despite being able to burn them with his hands. There's not a lot to think deeply about or morally wrestle with about this particular escapee from Hell. The one interesting aspect of all this is that he's trying to trigger the Second Coming in a universe that is confirmed to be run by God, yet he went straight to Hell. This could have led to an interesting conversation about hubris and how murder is still a sin, but it's never picked up on, and he's treated as just a crackpot, despite his worldview being extremely accurate to the universe he exists in.
Also, everybody keeps calling the Book of Revelation, Revelations, too frequently for it to be accepted as a flubbed line. If you're gonna go fullblown religious horror involving sacrificing altar boys, at least pick up a Bible and check the name of the Book you'll be quoting from.
Of course, this plotline means child actors are necessarily involved alongside Woodward's Extreme Evilness and fairly standard central casting cops. So it's no wonder the creative team looked at the assembled cast and went, "I think this needs more John Glover."
In fairness, the blind priest Father Horn offers a chance for Stone to have a meaningful discussion about evil, justice and vengeance, so it's not all by numbers.
A nitpick from later in the show: How did Stone pay for his motel room?
The big showdown at the end did use a cool location (disused rail lines buried under New York City) and established the necessary element of it being quite difficult to destroy the eyes of the damned. Try it from a distance, and it's a small target for even a good marksman to hit. Get up close, and grappling is inevitable - and only the damned can hurt the damned. It also establishes that "the longer you're in Hell, the more it becomes a part of you," granting each damned soul of the week their own unique hellish powers, variety being the spice of life.
So over all, it's a fairly clear cut script that offers a blueprint for a good urban fantasy case of the week show, but it doesn't have much staying power taken on its own. It is very much a pilot, setting up a dark and troubled world for its dark and troubled protagonist to navigate, but leaving the hard questions about Stone's own actions and the larger ethical quandaries fueling heaven and hell for another day.
