Pet Sematary | Little White Lies

Pet Sematary

30 Mar 2019 / Released: 04 Apr 2019

Illuminated wooden cross in dark forest, silhouettes of gravestones in foreground.
Illuminated wooden cross in dark forest, silhouettes of gravestones in foreground.
4

Anticipation.

Mary Lambert’s adaptation will be hard to top, but this reincarnation could work.

2

Enjoyment.

What a mess.

2

In Retrospect.

A missed opportunity.

A case of mis­cast­ing fatal­ly under­mines this adap­ta­tion of Stephen King’s chill­ing 1983 novel.

Our great­est fears – the ones that keep us up at night – find the super­nat­ur­al in the mun­dane, the unusu­al in the every­day, hor­ror in the innocu­ous. As irra­tional and ridicu­lous as they might appear in the clear light of day, they nev­er com­plete­ly lose their grip on us because we know that they have a point: we might not be not as strong as we like to pretend.

Stephen King has built a career on teas­ing out these night­mares and anx­i­eties, thrilling his read­ers by turn­ing their most inti­mate fears against them and lead­ing them well beyond the lim­its of ratio­nal­i­ty and com­mon sense. On the big and small screen, the best adap­ta­tions of his work are sim­i­lar­ly unafraid to delve head­first into the law­less ter­ror of his what if’ sce­nar­ios, often reach­ing a pitch of inten­si­ty where the com­i­cal­ly overblown becomes utter­ly petrifying.

The new Pet Sematary, the sec­ond film adap­ta­tion of King’s 1983 nov­el of the same name, is at its most thrilling when it fol­lows the same unwa­ver­ing ded­i­ca­tion to ter­ror as the source text and the orig­i­nal film. On the gore and jump-scare front, Kevin Kölsch and Den­nis Widmyer’s film can­not be faulted.

The writ­ers and direc­tors clear­ly under­stand that the premise – a ceme­tery that brings back to life those that are buried in it – would be laugh­able if the effects of said rest­ing place were any­thing less than hor­ri­bly gris­ly. Brief but shock­ing moments of extreme vio­lence (which shall not be spoiled here) con­vince us that, as the tagline puts it, some­times dead is better.

But as thrilling and suit­ably dis­gust­ing as these moments are, they feel like lit­tle more than com­pul­so­ry box tick­ing in a film mar­ket­ed as a loud mul­ti­plex hor­ror movie. This is par­tic­u­lar­ly dis­heart­en­ing when con­sid­er­ing their res­o­nance in King’s nov­el and in Mary Lambert’s 1989 film.

A person stands amongst fallen trees and debris in a dark, dense forest.

In both those ver­sions, the deaths of a cat and then a child are espe­cial­ly chill­ing due to the per­va­sive sense that some­thing about this fam­i­ly has been wrong from the start. By the time hor­rif­ic events begin to unfold, pun­ish­ment has already been loom­ing over this fam­i­ly for a long time.

King’s nov­el cen­tres on Louis Creed, a weak and inef­fec­tu­al man who finds him­self over­whelmed and intim­i­dat­ed by both his dis­sat­is­fied wife and his job as a doc­tor. His use of the pet ceme­tery in the nov­el there­fore appears like a man’s des­per­ate attempt to take con­trol of the sit­u­a­tion for once – to pro­tect his chil­dren, and to be the fam­i­ly man that his wife always want­ed him to be.

By con­trast, this Louis, as played by the com­par­a­tive­ly stur­dy Jason Clarke, is the image of mas­cu­line con­fi­dence. He has no trou­ble sat­is­fy­ing his wife, and enjoys his job as direc­tor of the uni­ver­si­ty cam­pus’ health ser­vices. This more macho per­for­mance makes sense to a degree: Clarke’s Louis is so arro­gant and enti­tled that he tries to cheat death.

Yet the lack of under­ly­ing ten­sion in this ver­sion of the Creed fam­i­ly makes most of the film’s run­time rather unevent­ful, and under­mines the story’s basic premise: why would this lev­el-head­ed, ratio­nal father move right next to a dan­ger­ous high­way? This ridicu­lous premise, as well as Louis’ oth­er ill-thought out deci­sions, seem out of char­ac­ter and thus become unin­ten­tion­al­ly funny.

Those bone-head­ed choic­es make sin­is­ter sense in the hands of King and Lam­bert. Utter­ly despon­dent, their help­less Louis can bare­ly tell the dif­fer­ence between right and wrong well before the tragedy of the sto­ry kicks in. In King’s nov­el, it is this famil­iar, real­is­tic image of des­per­a­tion that allows the author to lead the read­er towards the mag­i­cal and super­nat­ur­al. We can fol­low and under­stand Louis because, like him, we know that no one can come back from the dead – even though we some­times wish that they could.

Stripped of this sense of pan­ic – of loss of con­trol, of the dis­so­lu­tion of the fam­i­ly – every devel­op­ment in this new adap­ta­tion seems hor­ri­ble only for its own sake. The nar­ra­tive thrust and over­ar­ch­ing themes of King’s sto­ry are gone. Hol­ly­wood brought Pet Sematary back, but it didn’t come back the same.

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