There’s a special corner of Hell reserved for bad Stephen King adaptations, and it smells like mothballs, wet carpet, and regret. Graveyard Shift isn’t just in that corner—it’s the greasy recliner everyone avoids sitting in. Based on King’s 1970 short story (which is creepy, concise, and effective), the film manages to take ten lean pages and stretch them into a bloated 90-minute endurance test, padded with filler characters, romantic subplots no one asked for, and a monster that looks like the mascot for a discount Halloween store.
This is the Stephen King Cinematic Universe equivalent of ordering filet mignon and getting a microwaved Hot Pocket stuffed with rat hair.
John Hall: Hero by Default
David Andrews plays John Hall, the kind of bland drifter hero who seems like he wandered in from a deodorant commercial. He’s widowed, but don’t worry—that emotional baggage is never explored. He’s hired at the rat-infested mill by Warwick (Stephen Macht, chewing scenery like he’s auditioning for Scarface: The Musical).
Hall quickly proves himself by standing up to Warwick and making googly eyes at Jane Wisconsky (Kelly Wolf), because what’s a horror film without a romance subplot that feels like it was written by someone who has never actually spoken to another human being? Hall’s real personality trait is “isn’t Warwick,” which makes him instantly sympathetic in comparison, but about as memorable as the extra rats skittering across the set.
Warwick: The Boss From Every OSHA Training Video
Warwick is the foreman of the mill and apparently a part-time sexual predator, full-time sadist, and occasional Reagan-mask enthusiast. He’s the kind of villain who’s so on-the-nose he should have been played by an actual rat in a hardhat. Macht’s performance is somehow both over-the-top and undercooked, giving us a character who’s less scary and more “angry uncle yelling at Thanksgiving.”
His biggest crime, though, isn’t murder—it’s dragging the plot out. Every time he appears, you know you’re in for more shouting, sexual harassment, or “clean the basement” speeches that feel longer than the actual graveyard shift.
Brad Dourif: The Only Person Who Knew What Movie He Was In
Bless Brad Dourif. As exterminator Tucker Cleveland, Dourif delivers the film’s only spark of energy. He’s twitchy, unhinged, and monologues about ‘Nam flashbacks while exterminating rats. It’s insane, it’s unnecessary, and it’s glorious. He’s the only one who seems to know that the script is garbage, so he leans into lunacy.
Naturally, he gets crushed by a coffin before the halfway point. Because why let the one entertaining character live when you can spend more time watching Andrews and Wolf flirt in the shadows of a textile mill?
The Creature: Rat? Bat? Discount Muppet?
And then there’s the creature. Oh, dear viewer. The rat-bat hybrid lurking in the basement is supposed to be terrifying, but looks like something Jim Henson rejected for being “too silly.” Imagine a Halloween decoration with a $5 animatronic jaw, and you’ll get the idea.
The buildup to the reveal is actually effective: workers vanish, shadows move, bones pile up. But once you finally see the thing, the tension collapses like Warwick under a cotton picker. You can practically hear the crew off-camera whispering, “Don’t let it linger too long—the rubber suit’s melting.”
By the finale, when our hero shreds the beast in a cotton picker, you’re not cheering—you’re wondering how many rats had to unionize to get through this shoot.
The Love Interest Who Deserved Better
Jane Wisconsky (Kelly Wolf) exists to pout, look miserable, and be sexually harassed by Warwick until Hall sweeps in to play hero. Then she promptly gets stabbed for her trouble. The character arc here is less “tragic heroine” and more “final girl bait-and-switch.”
Her chemistry with Hall is nonexistent, their romance is unearned, and her death is treated with about as much weight as someone stepping on a mouse trap. You almost expect the giant rat-bat to pause and say, “Oops, my bad.”
A Basement That Goes on Forever
A major chunk of the film involves Warwick sending workers into the mill’s basement to clean out decades of junk. Turns out this basement is less “storage space” and more “portal to H.P. Lovecraft’s wet dreams.” It goes on forever, morphing into caves, tunnels, and eventually a full-blown underground lair filled with bones.
It’s as if the set designers started with “dusty boiler room” and ended with “Haunted Disney ride.” The geography makes no sense—one moment you’re in a textile basement, the next you’re spelunking in Mammoth Cave. It’s so absurd that when the giant rat-bat shows up, you’re almost relieved.
King Deserved Better
Let’s be clear: Stephen King’s original short story is simple and effective. A few workers cleaning a basement, an oppressive boss, and something lurking in the shadows—it’s tight, atmospheric, and genuinely unnerving.
The movie, however, bloats this into melodrama. Warwick’s affairs, Hall’s romance, Jane’s misery, the entire OSHA subplot—none of it matters. The horror of King’s story is suffocated by filler, like rats chewing through insulation. By the time we get to the actual monster, the audience is too exhausted to care.
The Final Act: Cotton Picker vs. Rubber Suit
The climax should be epic: man vs. monster in the bowels of the mill. Instead, it looks like Lou Diamond Phillips’ understudy battling a rejected Gremlins 2 prop in a barn. Hall shreds the rat-bat with a cotton picker, which is technically creative, but staged so clumsily it plays more like slapstick than horror.
And then the movie ends with a sign declaring the mill “under new management.” Oh good, can’t wait for the sequel: Graveyard Shift 2: Management Training Seminar.
The Extended TV Ending: Because We Needed More
For reasons known only to Satan and Ralph S. Singleton, the TV version ends with Hall punching Jane’s timecard before leaving the mill. Yes, she’s dead. Yes, it’s supposed to be poignant. Instead, it’s hilarious—like a punchline to a joke no one told. Nothing screams “romantic closure” like clocking your murdered girlfriend out of work.
Final Thoughts: Rats Deserved Better Union Reps
Graveyard Shift is the cinematic equivalent of being stuck on the actual graveyard shift at your job: endless, miserable, and filled with the sound of things scurrying in the dark. The cast ranges from dull to deranged, the creature is laughable, and the pacing is so bad it feels like the film itself was buried alive.
It takes a ten-page King story and manages to make it feel like ten years. When the rat-bat finally dies, you’re not relieved because the monster’s gone—you’re relieved because the credits are rolling.
