‘IT: Welcome to Derry’ Review: What Happens When Evil Is Set Free

The following text contains SPOILERS for the season finale

The nature of Evil in IT: Welcome to Derry became unmistakably clear by the end of the season’s striking penultimate episode. Not that there was ever much doubt—both the series and Stephen King tend to be fairly blunt on that front—but here it’s laid out with full force and clarity. Pennywise, and everything that strange creature represents, is merely one manifestation of an ancient Evil that adopts different shapes over time. In 1962, the year in which the series is set, that Evil takes on a specific and overtly political form, one tied to keeping an entire country subdued through fear—the creature’s essential nourishment. General Shaw (James Remar) articulates it explicitly: anything that “divides” the nation must be stopped, whether it’s the civil rights movement, feminism, or anti-gun campaigns. His goal was never to contain that Evil, but to unleash it, so that the whole country—perhaps the entire world—might become as falsely calm as Derry, a place Charlotte memorably defines as “a monster.”

In the final episode of Chapter 1, that monstrosity is confronted head-on. Rather than trying to outdo the previous episode’s astonishing action and suspense set pieces—one that could easily be paired with the climactic sequence of Sinners—Andy Muschietti and his team opt for a conclusion that is more mythical and fantastical than epic or hyperviolent. The ambitions here are more modest, focused less on spectacle for its own sake and more on opening and closing narrative doors tied to the saga’s lore. It’s a finale that aims, on the one hand, for emotional resonance, and on the other, to complicate what Shaw had previously articulated: once you release that Evil, to what extent can you actually control it?

A newly freed Pennywise returns and takes not only Will (Blake Cameron James) but also all the schoolchildren who fell under the spell of his “deadlights.” There is, however, one last risky chance to save them—an option as arbitrary and outrageous as these narrative structures tend to allow. The group must find the dagger that limits Pennywise’s power and place it at a precise point on the map so it can connect with the other fragments embedded in the pillars surrounding Derry. Before anyone can say The Lord of the Rings, the four surviving kids (RIP, Rich Santos) must carry this rebellious object—one that doesn’t necessarily submit to being controlled—and get it to the key location before the creature itself, or the military forces protecting it, arrive.

That mission occupies most of the season’s final hour: watching the reunited kids, with help from several adults (the deeply unsettling Dick Halloran does his part, Rich gets a cameo, and Leroy Hanlon gives it everything he’s got), carry out this epic task in a fog-shrouded setting that feels closer to German opera than to any recognizable corner of the United States. The omnipresent smoke allows Muschietti to construct a more or less plausible framework for a series of actions that owe far more to medieval fantasy than to realism. The outcome is, predictably, a success—though by the very end (don’t turn off the TV during the credits) it becomes clear that the joke is far from over.

The finale is packed with small nods to future events, beginning with Pennywise’s “revelation” to Marge (Matilda Lawler) that she will be the mother of an important character later in the saga, and extending to what we already know awaits Dick Halloran (Chris Chalk), destined to work at a hotel (“What trouble could I possibly have in a hotel?” he asks). It also includes the life and family decisions made by Charlotte (Taylour Paige) and Leroy (Jovan Adepo) Hanlon—a surname that, for those in the know, clearly signals what’s still to come. These teasing gestures are capped off after the credits with new connections involving Ingrid (Madeleine Stowe) and other characters from IT (2017) best left unspoiled.

Beyond the emotional impact of an episode that includes the burial of our young Cuban would-be drummer—a scene Rich witnesses, or at least is seen witnessing by Halloran—there’s another unsettling idea that transcends the simple act of eliminating Pennywise, at least for the next 27 years. At one point, Shaw confronts the creature while it lies immobilized before him. He explains that he has no intention of killing it; he wants to set it free so it can impose Fear openly, using it as a tool of political power. It quickly becomes clear that the former clown has little interest in anything mundane and he dispatches Shaw without a second thought. The implication is unmistakable: he will do the same to anyone who stands in his way, whether they are social activists, conservatives, or soldiers. Once that energy is unleashed, it cannot be controlled.

With that, the series ultimately expands and deepens its political reading. From the outset, it was clear that—unlike the films—Welcome to Derry was addressing far more grounded aspects of the contemporary world: racism, the abuse of Indigenous peoples, the mistreatment of women, and the deliberate effort to keep populations silenced and fearful before they can voice any criticism. This isn’t evident only in shots that practically rub Pennywise’s orange wig in the viewer’s face (the references to Donald Trump are obvious), but in the entire collision between ancient Evil and everyday cruelty that crashes down on Derry with full force. The show’s lore may be convoluted, capricious, and overengineered at times, but its central idea is both clear and forceful: when fear becomes the engine of behavior, the consequences can only be catastrophic.