15 Best Stephen King TV Shows, Ranked

To call Stephen King one of the most influential writers of our time is an understatement. A quick look at his massive literary library reveals a vast collection of stories — “The Shining,” “Carrie,” “The Shawshank Redemption,” and more — that have bled into pop culture and left a lasting impact.

King has also carved out a prolific position on television, his stories often merging with the medium far better than those made for the silver screen. In fact, we dare say, the best way to begin a foray into King’s mad universe is on the small screen where his massive stories unfold in all their strange glory, for better or worse.

Time will tell where HBO’s “IT: Welcome to Derry” — currently airing Sundays at 9/8c — will wind up on our ranking of the best series based on King’s published works. In the meantime, grab your axe — er, mallet — and let’s smash through our current picks for the 15 best Stephen King TV Shows.

An intriguing premise gives way to a frustrating, bloated, and bizarre TV series in “Under the Dome.” Starring Alexander Koch, Rachelle Lefevre, Mike Vogel, and Dean Norris, among others, this initially gripping tale sees an impenetrable dome suddenly descend over a small town, cutting its citizens off from the outside world. Predictably, panic sets in as supplies dwindle, and human nature does its thing. 

Sounds cool, right?

Well, the pilot episode starts off well, paving the way for a decent first season. By Season 2, however, everyone starts feeling like a plot device, the result of inconsistent writing, baffling creative decisions, and an abundance of silly twists. (The egg!)

So, why place “Under the Dome” on this list? Because, despite its ridiculous back half, the series is still pretty entertaining. Like a dysfunctional cousin to “The Mist,” the series embodies classic King themes of paranoia, power, and the collapse of community under pressure. It’s far from perfect — OK, it’s a mess — but taken as pulpy network chaos, it’s hard to look away. Even with that terrible ending.

Sometimes, it’s best to leave well enough alone. In the case of “The Shining,” Stanley Kubrick delivered the ultimate adaptation, improving upon Stephen King’s prose and making it an all-time classic. Even so, King sneered at Kubrick’s coldness and decided to produce a more faithful version in 1997 with mixed results.

The newer version starring Steven Weber and Rebecca De Mornay hearkens closely (perhaps too closely) to the book and carries over the story’s emotional weight. Jack Torrance (Weber) is depicted more like an average father stuck in a bad situation rather than an outright monster, and Wendy (De Mornay) is much stronger than Shelley Duvall’s timid counterpart. Spanning close to five hours, the miniseries has more time to breathe and is undeniably more novelistic.

Still, as TV adaptations go, “The Shining” at times feels more like a soap opera than a massive epic. Director Mick Garris never finds the proper momentum, either, relying on cheesy melodrama that clashes with the psychological horror. And yes, the effects, as expected, are terrible.

That said, fans turned off by Kubrick’s detached approach may find this version more emotionally satisfying, flaws and all. It’s King’s vision brought to life — sincere, faithful, and a little too literal for its own good.

Stephen King’s “The Stand” is notoriously difficult to adapt, not only because of its gargantuan length, but also due to its sheer scope and size. The best version remains the 1994 miniseries, but those looking for a more polished production could do far worse than the 2020 Paramount+ iteration.

A stacked cast consisting of Alexander Skarsgård, James Marsden, Amber Heard, Whoopi Goldberg, and Greg Kinnear lends gravitas to King’s archetypal characters, while strong production values capture the apocalyptic aesthetic. Fans may scoff at an all-new ending, co-written by King himself and his son Owen, but the fresh approach offers closure and reframes the story’s moral balance. 

On the negative side, the narrative is told through confusing flashbacks that jump between timelines instead of building natural tension. A clunky script likewise renders many of the characters as hollow caricatures, flattening what should be epic arcs of faith, corruption, and redemption. And while it all looks expensive, the series lacks the warmth and humanity that made the 1994 version so memorable.  

Ultimately, “The Stand” succeeds because of its source material, yet it also fails to live up to either the book or its TV predecessor. We have yet to receive a perfect version of “The Stand,” so the first two attempts will have to suffice for now. 

On paper, “Castle Rock” sounds like a sure-fire slam dunk. A series set in the fictional Maine town where Stephen King’s most iconic stories intersect and bleed together – who wouldn’t want that?

At times, this handsome production truly crackles, thanks to a talented cast — most notably Lizzy Caplan as Annie Wilkes from “Misery” in Season 2 — and an intriguing premise that nods to everything from “Cujo” to “The Shawshank Redemption.” Yet despite its big-budget sheen and clever references, the series often drags, feeling more like glorified fan fiction than a bold new exploration of King’s universe.

The Hulu series spans only two seasons — 20 episodes total — and contains enough of King’s trademark weirdness to justify a weekend binge. Still, as devoted fans, we can’t help but wish it had gone further before Hulu canceled “Castle Rock.” The show sizzles with potential but never quite explodes, a fascinating experiment that ultimately leaves you wanting more.

Youngsters will never experience the pure joy of 1990s-era Stephen King TV. We already discussed the “Shining” miniseries and would just as soon stab ourselves in the heart as ignore 1995’s campy classic “The Langoliers.”

Yes, one glance at the trailer reveals low-budget sets, melodramatic performances, and some of the worst CGI ever unleashed on any screen, big or small. And yet, the flaws are part of the charm. They align perfectly with King’s outlandish imagination, lending an uncanny eeriness to the proceedings that slicker production might have ruined.

At its core, “The Langoliers” is creepy, creative fun. David Morse (who would later star in the big-screen adaptation of King’s novel “The Green Mile”) and Bronson Pinchot lead the cast, respectively playing the pilot and one of the passengers on a red-eye flight. These passengers awaken midair to discover almost everyone else — including most of the crew — has vanished. When they land, they find themselves in a world frozen in time, haunted by a mysterious sound growing louder by the minute.

No, it’s not high art. Yes, it’s cheesy. But that’s the appeal. “The Langoliers” may drag through its overlong three-hour runtime, yet it remains a charming, eerie time capsule of an era when Stephen King on network TV felt like an event.

On the Apple TV miniseries “Lisey’s Story,” Lisey Landon (Julianne Moore) is the widow of Scott Landon (Clive Owen), an acclaimed novelist. Years after his death, she is still haunted by his memory, only to discover a series of clues he left behind to guide her to a mysterious world he called Boo’ya Moon. Her dark journey into her husband’s childhood trauma and her own repressed feelings are further exacerbated by the appearance of an unstable fan (Dane DeHaan) who threatens Lisey unless she delivers Scott’s unpublished work.

A fascinating blend of love, grief, and psychological horror, “Lisey’s Story” sometimes falters under the weight of its ambition, struggling to balance its surreal beauty with bursts of violence and magical realism. Even so, it’s worth watching for Moore’s commanding performance, Pablo Larraín’s elegant direction, and King’s deeply personal exploration of love, loss, and the creative mind. It may prove too literary and subdued for viewers seeking the pulpy thrills of King’s more conventional works, but for those willing to surrender to its rhythm, “Lisey’s Story” offers a haunting, emotional experience unlike anything else in his catalog.

More polished than its 1979 iteration, 2004’s “Salem’s Lot” unfortunately doesn’t rise to the same heights. Maybe it’s the colder, more grounded tone that leans heavily into psychological dread, or the lack of payoff to its aggressive moodiness, but something’s missing. Still, it remains a respectable, atmospheric retelling that sits comfortably in the middle of Stephen King’s TV catalog, a worthwhile endeavor for devoted fans of the author’s work.

Guided by heavy hitters Rob Lowe, Donald Sutherland, Andre Braugher, James Cromwell, and Rutger Hauer, “Salem’s Lot” sees successful writer Ben Mears (Lowe) return to his hometown of Jerusalem’s Lot, Maine, to confront lingering childhood trauma connected with the abandoned (and cursed) Marsten house. Soon after his return, strange things begin happening, and they all seem to herald the arrival of a mysterious antiques dealer named Richard Straker (Sutherland) on behalf of an unseen partner, Kurt Barlow (Hauer). Eventually, residents start disappearing or turning up dead, drained of blood, causing Ben to realize the town is under attack by an ancient, supernatural force. 

Steeped in atmosphere and anchored by strong performances, “Salem’s Lot” is a solid King adaptation, though it unfortunately gets lost in the shadow of its 1979 counterpart.

A made-for-TV riff on Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House” novel, penned by King himself? Sign us up. Indeed, 2002’s “Rose Red” is classic King, replete with gifted misfits, psychological obsession, and ancient evil — and while it may feel a tad too familiar at times, it nevertheless delivers the spooky, weird, and emotionally resonant goods.

The miniseries follows Dr. Joyce Reardon (Nancy Travis), a psychology professor hell-bent on proving the existence of the supernatural, who assembles a group of psychics to explore a Seattle mansion known as Rose Red. Cue the steady mix of eerie visuals, paranormal happenings, psychic warfare, and haunted-house horror, brought to vivid life by director Craig R. Baxley. 

Like many of King’s early-2000s adaptations, “Rose Red” occasionally suffers from dated effects and a bloated four-hour-plus runtime that meanders, particularly in its middle act. For viewers willing to settle in and embrace its gothic weirdness, this ambitious, imaginative ghost story remains quintessential King — atmospheric, unhinged, and haunting right down to its bonkers finale.

Haunting, beautifully acted, and tonally rich, “The Outsider” is easily one of King’s best modern adaptations. However, its deliberate pacing and slower back half may turn off viewers more accustomed to the author’s usual rhythm — slow build toward a propulsive finale. 

Executive-produced by Jason Bateman (who also directs the first two episodes and co-stars in a pivotal role), “The Outsider” starts as a grounded murder mystery before gradually transforming into a story about grief, doubt, and the nature of evil. Ben Mendelsohn leads the way as detective Ralph Anderson, who arrests a Little League coach (Bateman) after discovering the mutilated body of an 11-year-old boy. At first, his investigation is fairly rudimentary, but Anderson begins to suspect something far sinister is at play, and teams up with an eccentric private investigator (Cynthia Erivo) to confront a malevolent, shape-shifting force that hides behind ordinary faces.

Dark, intelligent, and meticulously crafted, “The Outsider” is King at his most unsettling. 

“11.22.63” isn’t quite as memorable as some other series on this list, but the unique historical angle, time-travel intrigue, touching love story, and cinematic approach (a result of J.J. Abrams’ involvement) make this one of King’s most mature TV adaptations.

Starring James Franco and Sarah Gadon, the series follows Jake Epping (Franco) as he travels back in time to stop the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Initially, Jake focuses entirely on his mission, but as the story progresses, his black-and-white objective blurs as he realizes that changing a singular moment in history alters countless lives. Basically, he grapples with a God complex, shifting the narrative from a sci-fi adventure to a moral and philosophical exploration of consequences where the real antagonist isn’t Lee Harvey Oswald, but fate itself. 

Granted, “11.22.63” doesn’t lend itself to repeat viewings — it’s more of a one-and-done emotional experience — keeping it just outside the pop-cultural pantheon. The series also abandons King’s trademark weirdness (and typical Maine setting!) for a more grounded, sentimental approach that may divide purists. Still, this thought-provoking thriller delivers in unexpected ways, revealing a softer, more reflective side of the famed novelist.

Some of the best King stories don’t deal with ghosts or goblins. Rather, in the case of “Mr. Mercedes,” the chills spring from human darkness, obsession, and guilt.

Brendan Gleeson stars as retired detective Bill Hodges as he becomes obsessed with catching the deranged, manipulative, and tech-savvy killer Brady Hartsfield (Harry Treadaway). Over three distinct periods of Bill’s life, we see the detective evolve from an embittered lone wolf haunted by his past to a man whose life is defined by purpose. It’s a captivating journey, brought to vivid life by Gleeson’s remarkable performance, sharp writing, and assured direction.   

Adapted by David E. Kelley, “Mr. Mercedes” is far more grounded than many of King’s stories. When the series eventually delves into the paranormal in later seasons, the shift feels earned after carefully crafted psychological realism that steers clear of shock value. Conversations feel natural, with space for ambiguity and nuance. Kelley and King trust the audience to engage rather than react, and while that quiet confidence occasionally slows the pace, it also gives the show its power. The result is one of King’s most grounded, thoughtful, haunting, and overlooked television adaptations.

King’s sweeping tale of good-versus-evil, “The Stand,” first aired on television in 1994. Starring Gary Sinise, Molly Ringwald, Miguel Ferrer, and Jamey Sheridan, the ambitious production was a massive undertaking for its day. Yet, the miniseries managed to capture the essence of the novel without losing its emotional core, a result of King writing the teleplay himself.

Ultimately, the perfectly cast heroes and villains, epic scope, and W.G. Snuffy Walden’s haunting score propel this version of “The Stand” to the upper echelon of King’s adaptations, even if the special effects and overall production haven’t aged particularly well. King’s fingerprints are everywhere — his dialogue, pacing, and moral complexity lend the story an authenticity that later versions couldn’t replicate.

And look, like many entries on this list, “The Stand” served as the point of entry for youngsters just discovering King’s universe. Sure, we may have stumbled upon “Carrie” or “Cujo” during a late-night TV run, but few stories match the depth and intricacy found here. “The Stand” remains a spiritual odyssey that, while sanitized for TV, still delivers apocalyptic storytelling at its most human.

At his best, King spins complex tales of good versus evil, often exploring the inner demons of small-town life amid a larger supernatural menace. “Storm of the Century” follows this formula to a tee, albeit with greater thematic depth, higher production values, and powerhouse performances from Tim Daly and a chilling Colm Feore. 

Uniquely, King penned the screenplay directly for television, giving him total control over this dark fable about a demonic stranger named Andre Linoge (Feore) who wanders into the isolated island of Little Tall, Maine (the same location as “Dolores Claiborne”), and begins to dismantle the town from within. His single command? “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away.” 

A slow-burning morality tale, “Storm of the Century” asks what we’re willing to sacrifice to preserve our way of life, then delivers one of the bleakest endings in King’s catalog. Told in three parts, this compelling 1999 drama is more psychological horror than monster thriller, and that’s exactly what makes it so effective. Well, that, and a creepy-as-hell demon.

Also, it’s King’s personal favorite series. So, there’s that.

It must be said that King, coupled with a 1970s aesthetic, equals genuine terror. The decade’s low-budget production values, moody lighting, and muted color palette perfectly complement the author’s twisted imagination — one of the reasons films like “The Shining” and “Carrie” are practically carved into our collective nightmares. Add 1979’s “Salem’s Lot” to that list: a smart and faithful adaptation of King’s work that exudes an eerie, slow-burning dread, lifting the vampire tale into something that feels almost cinematic.

Director Tobe Hooper (of “Texas Chain Saw Massacre” fame) crafts unease through long stretches of silence and a steady drip of haunting imagery, building an oppressive tension that suffocates rather than startles. The terror creeps in slowly, but once the ancient, blue-skinned, Nosferatu-inspired monster emerges — his appearance contrasting with the suave, romantic depictions of vampires of the era — you’ll find yourself watching most of the carnage through your fingers.

Genuinely scary and impressively staged, “Salem’s Lot” is a fine example of King done right.

The 1990 miniseries “IT” may not score high on the critical scale, thanks to its campy acting and dated, low-budget effects. Still, ask anyone who grew up in the ’90s to name the most terrifying monster of their childhood, and odds are they’ll recoil and shout, “Pennywise!” Like a candy-colored serpent of evil, Tim Curry’s killer clown slithered into the nightmares of an entire generation. His manic, larger-than-life performance made Pennywise as iconic as Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees and probably belonged in a better production.

Even so, Curry is good enough to elevate King’s strange tale to the top of the list, production values be damned. And hey, the cast — consisting of legends like Harry Anderson, Richard Masur, Richard Thomas, Annette O’Toole, John Ritter, and ultimate ’90s child actor Jonathan Brandis — is mighty impressive, to say the least, even if they don’t have much to work with.

Call it nostalgia, or a lingering case of childhood dread, but “IT” still sends a chill down our spines and remains the most memorable entry in King’s vast TV legacy.