Pet Sematary is a film best left dead and buried

The latest adaptation of Stephen King’s novel hits all the requisite beats of the story but loses the movie in jump scares and weird humor.

In 1983, author Stephen King published Pet Sematary, a novel he’s cited as being one of his scariest for its stark portrayal of grief over the death of a child. Mary Lambert adapted the novel in 1989, becoming one of the few female directors to helm a horror blockbuster at that time, only to never receive an assignment on that level ever again.

Last year’s announcement about a remake left a bad taste in many a fan’s mouth, particularly considering it was being helmed by two men. None of this necessarily factors into the finished product, but it left Pet Sematary with many hurdles to climb and the house of cards tumbles mightily. This new interpretation certainly doesn’t imitate the original, but it fails to miss the point on what makes King’s story engaging, frightening, or worth watching.

Louis Creed (Jason Clarke) has moved his family to Ludlow, Maine to become the new town doctor. When the family’s beloved cat dies, the Creed’s neighbor, Jud Crandall (John Lithgow) offers Louis the opportunity to revive the pet by burying it on ancient tribal lands that “bring things back.” But when the Creed’s daughter Ellie (Jete Laurence) dies in an accident, Louis makes a choice that has deadly consequences for everyone.

This iteration of Pet Sematary is technically solid, decently portrayed, but completely uninspired. It’s as if the screenwriter and directors said they wanted to remake a Stephen King novel, but ended up with Pet Sematary and had to make the best of it. There’s little depth found on the characters with the central idea being that we’re supposed to like them because they’re so damn good-looking. Louis and his wife, Rachel (Amy Seimetz) certainly love each other and when they argue, there’s an authenticity and realism to it, at least on Seimetz’s part.

Clarke is certainly as bland as Louis Creed is in the book, and his acting is on par with Dale Midkiff’s monotone in the ’89 feature, but that still doesn’t make for a compelling character. Clarke has played this character — the skeptic turned believer — in enough horror movies at this point its rote. His reactions all have a sameness to them, whether it’s the cat coming back to life, his daughter dying, or just having a discussion with his wife. Seimetz is the one doing the heavy lifting and thankfully the film gives Rachel Creed a boost of screentime compared to the ’89 version.

Seimetz conveys terror as a mounting dread as opposed to grand hysterics. She feels haunted by the death of her sister, Zelda — a character whose death was one of the more misplaced moments of laughter in the theater — and shows the building sense of oppression that guilt lays on her. When Rachel believes something is wrong, she jumps into action, trying to hold it together for her child but never becoming a hard wall of stoicism. Where Clarke’s emotions just seem like automated responses, Seimetz’s are genuine.

The children are blank vessels to be filled or, more specifically, Laurence’s Ellie is. Unlike the previous feature, toddler Gage (Hugo and Lucas Lavoie), is just there to be part of an audacious final image. Laurence’s character arc was revealed in the film’s trailer so it’s not a spoiler to say she is the Creed child fatally killed by an Orinco truck. Laurence is certainly cute, but the movie relies on that far too much, substituting Shirley Temple precociousness for personality or character.

Her first introduction to Judd sees him as an old curmudgeon hanging out in the pet cemetery for reasons, only to have his ice cold heart melted by her adorable face. The film makes a point to cross-cut to several scenes of her giggling and smiling upon her death, just to remind the audience “Isn’t it so SAD that this DARLING girl died.”

The level of manipulation in lieu of story stinks to high heaven. Because there are so many “killer kid” movies in existence, there’s nothing shocking or unique about an 8-year-old girl being murderous, especially in comparison to the original book/novel doing the same thing with a toddler. Laurence, who was speaking more like a 6-year-old than a 9-year-old at the beginning of the film, drops her voice an octave and wields a scapel that’s meant to convey terror but it’s been done better in numerous other features.

When a killer cat seems scarier, and more clearly defined as a character, you know you’re in trouble. Pet Sematary is a feeble attempt at fixing something that was never broken to begin with, a nostalgia grab that fails to figure out what kept the original film in audiences’ minds. I don’t want wanna be buried with THIS Pet Sematary. (But, there is a rockin’ Ramones cover at the end that you should totally download on Spotify.)