Clive Barker, the master of horror and wonder, creator of the Hellraiser series, is getting his Weaveworld to the small screen. Where else can such a magical place live? The CW of course. The network will be developing Barker’s 1987 novel, for which he will be the executive producer. Jack Kenny (Warehouse 13) will write and produce as well.
More on this below.
Although the novel has been on the brink of adaptation for decades (most notably by Showtime), it has never come to fruition, mainly because of the grand scope and intricacies of “The Fugue” and the “Seerkind.” Now, with shows exploring other timelines like The Flash, other worlds like Once Upon A Time, and hallucinations like Dominion, all on a TV budget, the way has been paved for the effects necessary to pull this magical realm. It will be set in Savannah, rather than Liverpool, and although that makes me a little nervous, I have trust in two things – The CW to produce a great show, and Clive Barker to oversee his life’s work, faithfully.
“That’s not so difficult,” Immacolata said. “Remember what my sister prophesied? Events are close to crisis-point.”
As she spoke, the shadows in the corner of the room stirred afresh, and Immacolata’s two dead sisters showed their ethereal skirts. Shadwell had never been easy in their presence, and they in their turn had always despised him. But the old one, the Hag, the Beldam, had skills as an oracle, no doubt of that. What she saw in the filth of her sister, the Magdalene’s after-birth, was usually proved correct.
“The Fugue can’t stay hidden much longer,” said Immacolata. “As soon as it’s moved it creates vibrations. It can’t help itself. So much life, pressed into such a hideaway.”
“And do you feel any of these… vibrations?” said Shadwell, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.
Immacolata shook her head, “No. Not yet. But we should be ready.”
Shadwell picked up his jacket, and slipped it on. The fining shimmered, casting filaments of seduction across the room. By their momentary brightness he caught sight of the Magdalene and the Hag. The old woman covered her eyes against the spillage from the jacket, fearful of its power. The Magdalena did not concern herself; her lids had long ago been sewn closed over sockets blind from birth.
“When the movements begin it may take an hour or two to pin-point the location.” said Immacolata.
“An hour?” Shadwell replied. The pursuit that had finally led them here seemed today to have been a lifetime long.
“I can wait an hour.”