I went into Netflix’s East of Eden ready to protect John Steinbeck’s epic novel at all costs, which is probably unfair to anyone trying to wrestle that massive book into seven one-hour episodes.
For the most part, Zoe Kazan’s adaptation won me over. Florence Pugh is terrific as Cathy Ames, and Christopher Abbott gives Adam Trask the right wounded softness, which is why I'm pumped for his Xavier. Mike Faist makes Charles feel lonely and painfully human, which is why I’m a little baffled that the book-to-screen adaptation gives us so little of one of my favorite stretches in the book: Adam and Charles becoming brothers again.
The Book Lets Adam And Charles Relationship Breathe
Adam’s return to the Connecticut farm does not magically fix anything. Charles once beat him nearly to death. Their father clearly favored Adam, and while Adam spent years avoiding home, Charles stayed behind, worked the farm, and grew increasingly isolated. Now the two brothers are suddenly expected to live under the same roof again.
That is where some of the book’s most human material begins. Adam sleeps late. Charles is up before dawn. Charles keeps working because that is simply what he does, even though their inheritance means neither brother needs the money. Adam talks endlessly about California. Charles thinks the whole idea is ridiculous. They argue. Adam disappears on trips. Charles buys more land. Adam comes home, and eventually they fall right back into the same routine.
That cycle repeats until Adam finally lets his guard down and tells Charles about the years he spent drifting across the country, including his time as a transient and his arrest. Charles starts laughing, but something between them changes. He tells Adam that knowing all of this actually makes him respect his brother more. For once, the distance between them shrinks, and the two finally begin working together.
As someone with seven brothers, I adore this part of the novel. It is one of the funniest and most realistic versions of brotherhood I have ever seen put on the page because Steinbeck lets them love each other without suddenly becoming good at it. They can barely stand one another, but Charles misses Adam when he is gone. Adam, who once lived in genuine fear of Charles, eventually realizes that fear has loosened its grip. Their reconciliation is not some grand speech about forgiveness. It happens through years of irritation, routine and choosing to remain in each other’s lives anyway.
The entire premise of East of Eden is built around complicated family, and more specifically, complicated relationships of brothers and how these behaviors and actions have ways of repeating themselves. Adam and Charles become the first version of the conflict Cal and Aron eventually inherit. The richer that first relationship is, the harder the second one lands.
I'd Happily Trade Ghost Charles For More Actual Charles
Netflix gives us a taste of Adam and Charles rebuilding their relationship, but it moves through those years quickly and mostly relegates it to a montage. I understand why. Kazan has talked about having to “kill some darlings” while condensing Steinbeck, including cutting much of the Hamilton family story so the series could stay focused on its central characters.
I understand the reasoning, but that doesn't make me miss Charles any less. Faist is great in the role, particularly when Charles’ anger cracks open and lets you see the lonely guy underneath. The show clearly knows it has something in him, too. It even invents a version of Charles who continues appearing as a mental ghost haunting Cathy after he is physically gone. That is actually one of the adaptation choices I like least.
I would gladly trade some Ghost Charles for more Actual Charles. Give me Adam and Charles sharing that farm. Let them fight about work, money, California and all the tiny grievances that somehow become enormously important when the person annoying you shares your blood.
Netflix’s East of Eden is still an ambitious adaptation, and I love that it attempts the multigenerational sweep of Steinbeck’s novel rather than focusing almost entirely on Cal and Aron, as the 1955 James Dean adaptation did. All seven episodes are streaming on the 2026 streaming schedule. All you need is a Netflix plan to enjoy them.
If I could put one thing back into this version, it would be those two damaged men slowly figuring out how to be brothers again. Maybe that hits harder when you have seven of them, but for my money, we don't see enough onscreen depictions of brothers and the complicated love they often share. East of Eden could have leaned into that just a bit more.
