A modern day Greek tragedy, complete with a tragic hero, comparable to Agamemnon or Oedipus, Dr. Louis Creed (Jason Clarke) and his family move to Main, Stephen King’s favourite haunting ground, where our tragic-hero discovers the truth behind the famous words, “sometimes dead is better.” With It’s killer clowns and, apparently, slasher-style zombie murderers, directors Kevin Kolsch and Dennis Wildmyer’s updated take on King’s infamous novel makes you wonder why anyone would move to Maine.
Pet Sematary is widely recognised as one of Stephen King’s darkest, more intense reads – as well as one his most iconic. So much so that upon its completion, King refused to publish the book, feeling its subject and tone were too dark and too personal. The story plays out like a Greek tragedy, shrouded in ominous foreshadowing and shocking deaths that cripple our ‘heroes’, plunging them down a path that grows ever darker.
“Sometimes, dead is better”
Jud Crandall
For the most part, this adaptation (especially the first act) follows very much the same structure as Mary Lambert’s 1989 rendition, though if you are familiar with Lambert’s version, you might be surprised around halfway through and even more so at the films climax, where a good few new twists drastically change the direction of the story. No spoilers here but I will say that while there is a degree of shock value at play, it is in a way less potent and distressing than the original novel, or indeed the iconic scene from 1989 film. Nonetheless, it does add a heightened sense of physical threat potential to our recently departed.
As with the previous adaptation, the omission of certain scenes and characters is unfortunate as they played a key role in the development of characters, story, and themes in the original novel. Naturally, any film adaptation will omit elements in order to comply with time restraints and, in some cases, practicality in terms of on-screen representation. However, this is a missed opportunity to flesh out more than Lambert’s film.
In particular, Jud’s wife Norma paved the way for the theme of accepting death and death as a concept, and by extent the tensions this brought to Rachel’s relationship with Louis and the rest of the family. Norma’s death forced the Creed’s to discuss and face mortality and the afterlife, anticipating events later in the book. It is a shame that these moments were skipped over, more so as it gives the impression that the directors wanted to skip ahead to the more iconic scenes – involving a certain Orinoco Truck and surgeons blade, for example. As a result, the first act plays out almost the same as Lambert’s, while the latter half of the film curiously shies away from Louis Creed’s grief and spiral into madness – although they are hinted at nearer the end. This would have added to the disturbing nature and extremity of his actions, while making you question whether you would do the same. In other words, it is sadly not as powerful as the novel, giving way instead to more obvious ‘horror’ elements.
Fortunately, the elaborate character moments that have been missed are more than compensated by consistently strong performances that reflect the dread and terror in a very believable, and frighteningly relatable, way. Jud Crandall, this time round, is portrayed by John Lithgow – who, we are reminded by Ellie, recently portrayed Winston Churchill (no, not the Creed’s household cat) in The Crown. Faithfully capturing the wise consoling friend of Dr. Creed from King’s novel, Jud plays the vital role of relating his knowledge of local Native American culture and crucially the Micmac burial ground – fulfilling an archetypical role in horror films who provides vital information that serves to foreshadow unfortunate events. Lithgow gives the strong impression that he is somehow being manipulated by forces at the burial ground, much more prominently than in the previous iteration. Ellie, portrayed by Jeté Laurence, is given a much more prominent role over her younger brother Gage – who in this adaptation becomes more of a Cassandra figure, predicting the misfortunes of the good Doctor (with the aid of Victor Pascow – or ‘Paxcow’, as Gage and Ellie say), a role held by Ellie in both the novel and 1989 film.
Louis Creed’s increasingly self-destructive grief is painstakingly portrayed by Jason Clarke. The Greek tragic character of Dr. Creed is clearer to see in his portrayal; it is a shame, then, that some of his more prominent moments from the novel are skipped over, though thankfully Clarke’s performance adequately provides that sense of madness, especially towards the end. This similarly plagues Rachel Creed’s story, though likewise, Amy Seimetz’s performance sells the trauma behind the character. Moreover, the effect of her traumatic childhood is better portrayed by her than the previous adaptation, even if it still lacks elements of the book.
Music is not quite as noticeable in this feature, in comparison to 2018’s nerve-racking adaptation of another of King’s iconic works, It – which featured a highly unsettling selection of strings and melodies – though a tad on the cliché side. What It did have that Pet Sematary lacks is a main theme – unless the Starcrawler’s rendition of the Ramones’ own theme in the end credits counts, serving as another nice nod to Lambert. There are some good musical moments at work, especially the funerary procession drums leading to the ‘Sematary’, but in terms of sound, it’s the quiet moments disrupted by the sudden roar an Orinoco Truck, or even the unsettling thudding of footsteps around a supposedly vacant house, that are most noticeable.
“Don’t bury me up there”
Rachel Creed. A call back to the Ramone’s titular song, which sent shivers down the spines of the audience.
The tone is bleak, the atmosphere deadly serious, heavy with a looming sense of dread, personified by the haunting presence of the reanimated cat, Church. The intensity of the atmosphere is more severe and oppressive than Lambert’s. Flashbacks, nightmares and hallucinations of Rachel’s sister, Zelda, successfully provide an excuse to throw in a few (un)healthy jump scares, especially in the final act where creeping suspense turns into an out-and-out gory slasher flick, complete with a twist on the iconic ending that leaves you hanging – though the sound of the trucks may make you think twice before crossing quiet roads any time soon.
Makes you wonder why they didn’t immediately build a fence around the property…?
Across all versions, we are presented with a relatable form of horror, that makes it that much more potent and unnerving – an element recognised by King fans about his particular brutish, and at times, dark humoured brand of horror. Attempts are made to scare us, with relatable themes of death and questions about the afterlife, while parents will likely recognise the oppressive fear of child death, packed in the latter acts with jump scares, and the mysterious power of a certain misspelt ‘Cemetery’. Fans of Kolsch and Widmyer’s efforts here should check out Hereditary (2018), if the oppressive atmosphere of Pet Sematary isn’t enough – though be warned: you will need to rewatch it multiple times to fully appreciate the intricacies.
