Ezekiel Stone’s narration at the beginning of Brimstone sounds like a setup with bite:
“I was a cop. When my wife was raped, I caught the guy who did it, and I killed him. Two months later, I died. I went to Hell. A hundred and thirteen of the most vile creatures… escaped.”
A revenge-driven ex-cop clawing his way out of Hell by tracking down demonic escapees? Supernatural noir? Creepy vibes? Brimstone should’ve been my jam.
And yet. Yet.
Let me be brutally clear: I wanted to like this show. I hunted for it — like, back-alley-of-the-internet hunted, because it’s nowhere. Not streaming, not for sale, not even on those janky DVD sites that usually have everything. That should’ve been my first clue that this thing was buried for a reason.
On paper, this had all the right ingredients for the perfect horror binge. But the execution was flat, bleak, and about as fun as a demonically possessed tax seminar.
Mopey Souls and Tragic Backstories
Let’s talk about Ezekial Stone, played by Peter Horton, who honestly should’ve stuck with Thirtysomething-type roles. He’s supposed to be this tormented ex-cop with a shot at redemption, but he reads more like an undercooked meatloaf with angst issues.
There’s no charisma, no hook, just monotone moralizing and a trench coat ala Columbo. Maybe if Horton would’ve sat down and watched the Fantasy Island 1977 pilot movie, he would learned the art of charismatic moralizing from the master himself — Mr. Roarke.
Even the Devil’s a letdown. John Glover is doing his best “Gary Cole cosplay” and somehow still manages to feel like a second-rate lounge act. Compare him to Ray Wise in Reaper, Gary Cole in American Gothic, or Terry O’Quinn in 666 Park Avenue, and this version of Satan barely registers.
The pilot had me hanging by a thread, but by episode two I was clock-watching. By episode three, I was rage-Googling why it even got greenlit and why in God’s name this is considered a cult classic. By episode four, I was done. The procedural format with its “soul of the week” setup is already tedious, but Brimstone doubles down on being dark and boring — a deadly combo. We should just crown it the King of the River of Molasses.
The Verdict
Let’s break this down:
- First soul up: A predator priest. I mean… really? That’s where we’re starting? No style or flare — just misery from the jump, not to mention tropey as all hell.
- The vibe: Too serious to be fun, too bland to be compelling. It wants to be Millennium with a supernatural edge but ends up being spiritually beige (and yes I know this came out before the Millennium masterpiece.)
- The pacing: Glacial. I’ve seen haunted chairs with more urgency.
I gave it four episodes, because that’s all I had access to. And I could go track down the full run, but why? So I can spend nine more hours watching a sad trench coat wander through dimly lit alleyways talking to mopey souls with tragic backstories? No thank you.
You want this story done right? Watch Reaper. Or check out Prime Video’s The Bondsman with Kevin Bacon, a recent show that had way more potential but got canceled before it even had a chance to breathe.
Brimstone coughed up 13 full episodes back in 1998, and that was way more than it deserved. Maybe they cursed themselves right out of the gate.
Interestingly enough, FOX aired this series out of order just like CBS did with American Gothic back in 1995, another show that got canceled after one season. But American Gothic is Fire. This one is not.
🗑️ Final Verdict: Straight to the Tap Out Trashbin. Brimstone is exactly the kind of forgotten relic that should stay forgotten. Moody, murky, and miserable — a one-way ticket to Boredom Hell.
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