Mike Flanagan is a darling of horror film festivals and a rapidly rising star of the genre. Therefore, I was not at all surprised upon learning that he had been tasked with bringing Stephen King’s ‘Doctor Sleep’ onto the silver screen. On the contrary, I was excited, and fortunately, my initial expectations were met although not dramatically exceeded. Don’t get me wrong, I was not disappointed, though I do feel like Mr Flanagan was constantly torn between pleasing both Kubrick and King audiences—surely, we agree they’re not one and the same.

Adapting Stephen King’s works has always been a hit and a miss process, with some exquisite cinematic masterpieces like ‘The Shining’ (1980), the celebrated precursor to ‘Doctor Sleep’, as well as ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ (1994), ‘Carrie’ (1976), ‘The Green Mile’ (1999), and ‘Stand by Me’ (1986), to name but a few. I’m relieved to be able to place Flanagan’s work into the good pile rather than the bad, where bombs like ‘Needful Things’ (1993) and ‘Maximum Overdrive’ (1986) dwell.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

‘Doctor Sleep’ has ginormous shoes to fill, and Mr Flanagan does an excellent job of not getting himself lost inside them. After all, ‘The Shining’ suffered critical modifications from book to screen. Most of you might remember that Mr King hated Kubrick’s adaptation so much that he invested in a remake which unsurprisingly bombed. As far as the storyline goes, ‘Doctor Sleep’ picks up where ‘The Shining’ left off—both the movie and the book, which had to be tied up somehow in a manner that made sense. The book saw the Overlook Hotel exploding. The film clearly didn’t. Some assembly was required.

In the first ‘chapter’ of the film, we follow young Danny Torrance at first with his mum, both of them learning to live with the trauma and grief after leaving Jack for dead at the Overlook. While Shelley Duval and Jack Nicholson dominated ‘The Shining’ back in 1980, Flanagan’s sequel adaptation has Henry Thomas and Alex Essoe as Jack and Wendy. Aesthetically grand choices, both talented and intense enough to portray iconic characters. Danny is trying to cope with his ‘shining’, his special ability that brought the Overlook to life, so to speak, in the first place. Having been introduced to death and ghosts and violence from such a young age, it’s difficult for him to move on, especially since the spectres have followed him home.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

After he learns to lock away the bad stuff with a little trick from his memory of Dick Hallorann, Danny delves into adulthood with a serious drinking problem. The film follows him right up to the peak of his crisis. Having used alcohol to cope with his ‘shining’, Danny hits rock bottom when he takes money out of the wallet of a woman with whom he had a coke-and-booze-addled affair the night before.

Ultimately, Danny moves to a small town in New Hampshire, sobers up, attends AA meetings, and remotely befriends Abra Stone, a little girl with a gift like his. Of course, things take the obligatory dip into nightmare territory when a cult of apparent immortals start hunting Abra down, desperate to feed on her ‘shining’ in order to further prolong their lives—her power could feed them for entire generations, unlike other kids with ‘steam’, as they call it, these days. Danny must therefore mentor and protect the girl against these monsters, who will stop at nothing to kill her.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

I am in awe of Ewan McGregor. He manages to do a lot more with an otherwise bland character—the book’s strength did not come from Danny Torrance, not where ‘Doctor Sleep’ is concerned, at least. The kid version of him from ‘The Shining’ was a strong presence. But Mr McGregor breathes life into a grown-up Danny with his fears and vulnerabilities and self-loathing. We believe him as the alcoholic in desperate need of redemption, and we believe him as the man who is ready to face the demons of his past, including his own father, in order to protect the future, here portrayed by young Abra Stone.

His growth as Doctor Sleep, the kind soul who guides the dying hospice patients where he works into the afterlife, is done with a certain solemnity and reverence towards death itself. This particularly poignant side of him has roots in Flanagan’s writing, too, carrying over several touching notes from ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ (2018). McGregor’s Danny isn’t just the main character, however. He is also the supporting element for Kyliegh Curran’s Abra—not necessarily a father figure but more of a Dick Hallorann himself.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

Ms Curran’s interpretation of a teenage girl who has grown with a titanic ‘shining’ is also noteworthy. While still young, she does not lack the talent to bring Abra to life as Mr King penned her. She is not a victim, nor is she entirely invulnerable. No, Abra is aware of how insanely awesome she is, but Danny does help to remind her that she is not invincible, either—that’s something she also gets from those frightful telepathic encounters with Rose the Hat.

From Abra’s point of view, I’d say that ‘Doctor Sleep’ is less a tale of empowerment and more a journey of overcoming trauma and horrific violence, as Abra sees the terrible things that The True Knot cult are willing to do for power like hers.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

Truth be told, I believe it’s Rebecca Ferguson’s stunning performance as Rose the Hat, the cult’s leader, that truly carries the film into the realm of greatness. The book offered little for us to work with as readers. There were plenty of gaps to be filled, yet Ms Ferguson, better known for her roles in ‘Mission: Impossible – Fallout’ (2018) and ‘The Greatest Showman’ (2017), manages to build an impressively spooky and authentic villain. There is depth in her persona and a truly desperate hunger for immortality.

While she has been a conscientious collector, her cult’s supply of ‘steam’ is running low, and their more recent victims have not been enough to feed them in the long term. The entire ‘tribe’ is a strange combo of misfits with sociopathic tendencies who live in their RV’s, crossing the entire country in search of more ‘steam’ to keep themselves young for longer. Their villainy is interesting, however, because they’re aware that they cannot live forever. Everything they do is solely for the purpose of cheating the clock. Rose and The True Knot are troubling metaphors for those in the real world who thrive and feed on pain and misery.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

In writing the screenplay adaptation, Mike Flanagan had to reconcile two sides of the same coin in a manner aimed at drawing and pleasing two kinds of fans—the Kubrick aficionados who still refer to ‘The Shining’ as one of the best movies ever made and the King devotees whose guilty pleasure is watching ‘The Shining’ since it is still superior to the remake. Both sides equally demanding. The writer-director faithfully recreates the elegant dread and the layered terror that made the Overlook so memorable. It is still home to a variety of live-in fiendish phantoms and a nightmarish cradle to which we are forced to return.

Story-wise, ‘Doctor Sleep’ builds Danny as the guiding light emerging from his personal darkness, a reluctant mentor to Abra’s fierce youth. She may be young, but she knows that she might be the only one who can stand up to the True Knot. On the other hand, Danny has his past demons to deal with—starting with the undying presence of his father, the spirits he locked inside boxes in his head, and the Overlook, where he knows they will have a better shot at defeating Rose the Hat.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

Mike Flanagan’s ‘Doctor Sleep’ is quite the visual treat, too. Rife with emotional close-ups and mainly adhering to a nocturnal grey and blue palette, the film can be seen as an extension to ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ and as a loving tribute to Kubrick’s original imagery. Michael Fimognari has worked with Flanagan before, on ‘Gerald’s Game’ (2017), another King adaptation, and on the above noted Shirley Jackson-based Netflix miniseries. I see this as a fruitful partnership, as Mr Fimognari not only understands the sophisticated yet heart-rending style that has become Flanagan’s signature, he also manages to convey the Kubrick-inspired imagery meant to tie ‘Doctor Sleep’ to ‘The Shining’.

The lighting is low, and there is much to work with in the darkness. Rose the Hat and Crow Daddy and Snakebite Andi are thrice as scary whilst glazed in shadows, each of them hungry for a few more years, a bit more youth. In Danny’s room, the tenebrosity serves to remind us where he comes from and where he’s been, while in Abra’s room it is a medium for her to sink into when she sleeps and unwittingly witnesses the terrible murders committed by Rose and her deranged crew.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

But it’s the production design that really does it for me. The sets, in particular, stand on the shoulders of Roy Walker and Leslie Tomkins. Combined with Fimognari’s cinematography, however, the viewer is mercilessly dragged back to the real Overlook—the ‘70s style orange and brown geometric carpets, the high ceilings with wagon-wheel chandeliers, the terracotta walls and the red-door elevators… the chills just rush through and anchor us so deep into the story, we cannot escape. Not until Danny deals with his past.

Production designer Maher Ahmad, best known for ‘The Fugitive’ (1993), ‘Zombieland’ (2009), and ‘Little Evil’ (2017), and art director Richie Bearden of ‘Den of Thieves’ (2018) and ‘Game Night’ (2018) are just two of the team that delivers the superb visuals behind ‘Doctor Sleep’, and they deserve a round of heartfelt applause. It’s not just the Overlook that stands out, however. A personal favourite of mine is the visual duet between Abra and Danny’s room, the latter fitted with a blackboard wall on which she leaves him telepathic chalk messages. And then there are the minds of our characters—Danny’s with its boxes and Abra’s with its traps for Rose.

‘DOCTOR SLEEP’ (2020), ©WARNER BROS.

While there are plenty of Kubrickian nods, the film ultimately stands more as a longer episode of ‘The Haunting of Hill House’, combining soul-stirring and supernatural elements that cause all kinds of jumps and jolts in the viewers. And while Mike Flanagan, a man of many talents, works hard in treading that fine line between Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King whilst building on the heritage of ‘The Shining’ left by both, he is at his peak when left to his own devices.

‘Doctor Sleep’ is the most beautiful when it steps away from its source material and predecessor, standing boldly as a cinematic oeuvre. By adding its own flavours into the mix, it expands on the book with deeply fascinating characters—I, for one, find it hard not to sympathize a little with Rose the Hat’s desire to remain young for longer. Of course, the end does not justify the means. Innocent children are tortured and murdered for the most selfish reasons, and so the horror transpires brutally onto the screen. Ultimately, Mike Flanagan follows his creative path and gifts us with a story that does not disappoint.

Let’s face it. From the moment Stephen King started writing, the world has never been the same. A master of blending suspense and horror with the supernatural in terrifyingly realistic ways, Mr King has given us at least 97 books up to date. It doesn’t look like he’s stopping any time soon, either—not that we mind.

His numerous bestsellers have become movie and TV rights darlings. Production studios continue to wrestle each other for a chance to put his stories onto the screen. Most of Mr King’s books have been adapted in one form or another: feature films (classics such as ‘The Shining’ of 1980 or ‘Carrie’ of 1976, as well as more modern takes like ‘It’ and ‘It: Chapter Two’ of 2017 and 2019, respectively); TV series (see Audience’s ‘Mr Mercedes’ featuring Brendan Gleeson and Harry Treadaway, or Hulu’s Stephen King-inspired ‘Castle Rock’ with Bill Skarsgård and Lizzy Caplan); and plenty of mini-series (remember the original ‘It’ of 1990, ‘Rose Red’, or ‘The Dead Zone’?).

BILL SKARSGÅRD AS PENNYWISE IN ‘IT’ (2017), ©NEW LINE CINEMA

He has written so much and so well that it’s a task and a pleasure to keep up. Not all of his book adaptations have been stellar, however. ‘The Mist’ (2017) was an absolute flop, while the earlier film from 10 years earlier, directed by King-aficionado Frank Darabont did noticeably better. The original ‘Pet Sematary’ of 1989 became a cult classic, but the remake of 2019 left much to be desired. ‘The Tommyknockers’ (1993) was dismal, yet John Carpenter’s take on ‘Christine’ (1983) brought the horror genre to a whole new level. Despite the risk of utter failure, the remakes and adaptations of Mr Kind’s source material keep coming. ‘The Stand’ (1994) was a moderate success for its time, starring Gary Sinise, Rob Lowe, and Molly Ringwald. It, too, is getting a remake this year, via CBS and featuring James Marsden, Jovan Adepo, and Whoopi Goldberg. We’ll see how that one turns out. The point is, Stephen King is a master storyteller, but his books are not always the easiest to transform for the screen. It’s a hit-and-miss game with his tales of the dreadful and the unbelievable.

‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

Enter ‘The Outsider’ (2020), HBO’s first foray into his world. Plenty of networks and hordes of more than capable producers have taken on his works, though few were able to reach the level of this most recent Stephen King adaptation. Based on the eponymous book published in 2018, ‘The Outsider’ follows a seasoned cop and a peculiar investigator as they try to make sense of a seemingly straightforward murder investigation that turns out to be anything but.

From the very first episode, we’re confronted with a difficult premise: how can someone be in two places at once?

Created by Oscar-nominated Richard Price of ‘The Wire’ (2003-2009) and ‘The Deuce’ (2017-2019) fame, ‘The Outsider’ offers a supernatural answer to the above question. The best part? It is so well put together, that we actually believe the unbelievable.

BEN MENDELSOHN AND CYNTHIA ERIVO IN ‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

The series is written by Mr Price and Mr King, with three directors at its helm: Andrew Bernstein, better known for ‘The West Wing’ (2000-2006), ‘Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan’ (2019), and ‘Ozark’ (2017-2018); Charlotte Brändström, of ‘The Witcher’ (2019) and ‘Counterpart’ (2019); and Jason Bateman, actor and director most famous for his work on ‘Arrested Development’ (2003-2019), ‘Bad Words’ (2013), and ‘Juno’ (2007). HBO has put together a truly exceptional team for this project, and it shows right off the bat.

As soon as episode 1, aptly titled ‘Fish in a Barrel’ opens up, we’re vehemently absorbed into the story. Terry Maitland of Flint City, Oklahoma—all-around good guy/dad/baseball coach for the local boys’ team, is arrested for the horrific murder of little Frankie Peterson. The evidence and a slew of credible witnesses are against him, while he insists on his innocence. His reputation is obliterated, his family torn apart, and then compelling proof and witnesses putting him miles away from Flint City at the time of the murder emerge. The mystery is set. How could Terry Maitland have raped, murdered and mutilated an innocent kid, when he was all the way in Cap City at a teacher’s conference? By the end of this episode, we’re left baffled, asking the same question, over and over. How is this possible? How is there solid and indisputable evidence and testimony both incriminating and clearing of Terry Maitland?

JASON BATEMAN IN ‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

This brings back one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s most memorable quotes: ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ It would be safe to assume that ‘The Outsider’ boldly spins the impossible and twists it into the truth. 

The HBO series is, at its core, a gruesome crime drama. The classic jump-style horror is swapped for a mood of pure dread. The characters are shaken out of their regular lives, their rhythms disrupted by this terrible murder—everyone is involved in it and in its aftermath, one way or another, and the series does an exquisite job of following them all.

JULIANNE NICHOLSON IN ‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

In an elegant set of parallels, Terry, superbly played by Jason Bateman, struggles to prove his innocence, while his wife, Glory, portrayed by Julianne Nicholson, juggles a suddenly chaotic existence—her husband in jail, her daughters scared and confused, and the whole town scowling in their general direction for the awful crime that Terry is blamed for. At the same time, Detective Ralph Anderson, brilliantly brought to life by Ben Mendelsohn (Danny Rayburn in Netflix’s ‘Bloodline’, Talos in ‘Captain Marvel’, and King George VI in ‘Darkest Hour’), tries to make sense of what was supposed to be a dead-to-rights arrest. His main suspect appears guilty and innocent at the same time. Meanwhile, the Petersons are falling apart in their grief, one by one, until none are left standing.

The writers do a stellar job of infusing fear and realism into what is basically a heart-breaking tragedy, neatly wrapped up in layers of the supernatural. When talking about ‘The Outsider’, Stephen King said: ‘I write stories that are supposed to be fun and scary and make readers believe the unbelievable.’ That can be easily observed throughout the series’ first few episodes. By the time we meet Cynthia Erivo’s Holly Gibney, that’s it. We’re hooked. Terry Maitland had to be innocent. Something else happened. We have to know the truth. Take us to the truth, Mr King, no matter how weird and unexplainable it is!

YUL VASQUEZ ‘THE OUTDSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

In terms of performance, each of the actors manage to stand out, breathing life into their characters like few other thespians can. Jason Bateman completely sells us this baffled version of Terry Maitland, a guy whose worse crime was that cowboy-style belt buckle. Glory Maitland is absolutely fierce, the lioness who must protect her cubs at all costs, as they’re now living in a town that has basically turned on them. 

Yul Vasquez of ‘Russian Doll’ (2019), ‘I Am the Night’ (2019), and ‘Captain Phillips’ (2013) as Yunis Sablo of the GBI brings a certain flavour of his own—the moderate bridge between Detective Anderson’s empiricism and Holly Gibney’s strangeness. A favourite scene so far is when these three characters meet in the diner to discuss a partnership aimed at finding Frankie Peterson’s real killer. ‘I have no tolerance for the unexplainable,’ Ralph tells Holly. ‘Well then, sir, you have no tolerance for me,” says Holly before she goes on to briefly but eloquently explain why she is different and definitely the right person to investigate the glaring mystery behind the kid’s murder.

BEN MENDELSOHN IN ‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

Referring to Ben Mendelsohn’s character, Stephen King said: ‘I had the idea of writing about a guy who was in two places at once, and what really turned my dial, […] I thought to myself, I’d like to have a protagonist here who has skin in the game.’ 

And Ralph Anderson certainly has that. He’s a father who lost a child of his own to cancer—coincidentally, Derek was also part of Terry Maitland’s baseball team, just like the Peterson boy. If anyone has what it takes to make this truly personal, it’s this weathered detective. But as we begin to peel away at the inconsistencies, we begin to understand that nothing is what it seems. 

Where storytelling is concerned, ‘The Outsider’ has not only succeeded in bringing Mr King’s tale to life, it has exceeded all expectations and elevated the standard once more for the crime and horror genres worldwide. An ample degree of insight and finesse are required for a writer to be able to show us how a person copes with the unbelievable, when nothing else explains what is right there, in front of his eyes.

‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

Of course, ‘The Outsider’ would be nowhere near as effective without its prolific cinematography. Kevin McKnight, Zak Mulligan and Rasmus Heise were brought on to help Mr King’s vision reach its full potential. Worth noting here are the image compositions, not only where the characters are involved in terms of on-camera position, but also where lighting and the establishing shots are concerned. There is a certain intensity that comes into each frame, as well as a nagging feeling that something worse has yet to happen. In an interview with IMDb, Stephen King said that he learned his ‘chops’ from some of the writers behind ‘The Twilight Zone’ (1959-1964), a fact which becomes obvious once you read one or more of his books. The cinematographers thus had the task of setting that mood across the board, inviting viewers to accept the fantastic in order to justify the horror that has befallen Flint City. 

Art directors Jason Perrine and Justin O’Neal Miller do a marvelous job of enhancing the story through its set designs and impressive detail work. One particularly memorable scene is when Yunis Sablo enters the barn to investigate the bloodied clothes. The ensemble of cobwebs and old wood against the forensic spotlight leaves an impression onto the viewer’s mind, further following the show’s overall visual patterns. Aiding in the rendering of this frightening realism, the editing team, comprised of Tad Dennis, Leo Trombetta, Dorian Harris, and Daniel James Scott, proceed with great care as they weave the scenes together, delivering a smooth selection of haunting and petrifying moments. Frank Peterson’s suicide scene continues to haunt us, even now.

‘THE OUTSIDER’ (2020), ©HOME BOX OFFICE/HBO

In case you’re wondering why we’re going to such lengths to applaud each and every member of this production and post-production team, it’s because they all had a part to play in making ‘The Outsider’ a tour-de-force of modern television. 

They deserve a standing ovation, for it is truly rare and surprising for an adaptation to surpass the book’s original craft. It takes talent and visionaries behind and in front of the camera. 

Fortunately, when HBO gambled on this series, they understood its potential and assembled the right team to take on the project. Not only is ‘The Outsider’ loyal to its source material, it goes that extra mile of adding more, of seamlessly reproducing and magnifying that Stephen King vibe which is so difficult to attain.

The trouble with Stephen King’s literary works is that, although they’re superb and masterfully written, they’re not so easy to adapt into films. Out of more than seventy attempts, barely a dozen of his novels made a successful leap from the page and onto the screen. It takes more than a skilled team of directors, editors, production designers, cinematographers, and more to make something bearing King’s signature work. A good screenplay is usually the starting point, and if it wobbles before it takes off, chances are that it will disappoint.

Who could ever forget Brian De Palma’s ‘Carrie’ (1978), David Cronenberg’s ‘The Dead Zone’ (1983), Frank Darabont’s ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ (1994) and ‘The Green Mile’ (1999), or Stanley Kubrick’s now-iconic ‘The Shining’ (1980)? What about the more recent ‘It’ (2018) remake by Andy Muskietti or the ‘Mr Mercedes’ (2017) TV series by David E. Kelley? Clearly, it can be done.

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That being said, ‘Pet Sematary’, the second adaptation of King’s darkest novel, while beautiful in its commercial delivery as a horror-genre darling, fails to deliver the very core of what made the story so enticing, in the first place. 

Perhaps the problem stems from having two directors, one might be tempted to assume. Two visions that maybe matched in pre-production but struggled to stay in perfect synergy along the way. It does feel like there are two movies collaborating and clashing at the same time, made compact over the course of one hour and forty-one minutes. The first wishes to honour Mr King’s novel, while the other tries too hard to please a much wider audience. Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer, both of ‘Starry Eyes’ (2014) fame, took on the challenge to redo ‘Pet Sematary’ after its first cinematic execution in 1989. Some would’ve thought it easy to go above Mary Lambert’s directorial work, but, as this year’s revival proves, it is anything but.

Or maybe the problem is rooted much deeper, in the writing. The screenplay was penned by Jeff Buhler, best known for ‘The Midnight Meat Train’ (2008) and the ‘Nightflyers’ (2018) TV series. The expectations were high for ‘Pet Sematary’, especially since this wasn’t his first foray into novel adaptations—as clearly evidenced by ‘Nightflyers’, which was quite impressively done. But something is missing. ‘Pet Sematary’ is a loving tribute paid to the master of horror, no doubt. It follows most of the original story, but it isn’t enough. There is simply too much plot and very little attention paid to the characters, their relationships, and what makes the viewers suffer when they inevitably die.

Maybe Hollywood is just generally terrible at doing justice to the source material of Stephen King. After all, Mr King cannot be blamed, for his stories are legendary, most of them bestsellers all over the world, forever loved and prized by readers, young and old alike. There is a timelessness to his horror tales, and it does not stem from cheap thrills and sudden scares. It’s the characters. It was always about the characters.

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For those who haven’t read the book, ‘Pet Sematary’ will come across as a decent horror movie with a truly dark and difficult theme. After all, if there’s one thing humans are bad at, it’s dealing with death and its aftermath. ‘Sometimes dead is better’, says Jud Crandall, and that’s what our protagonist, Dr Louis Creed, has trouble with.

‘Pet Sematary’ follows Louis and his family as they move into a new house on the side of a busy Maine road, known to be dangerous because of the many speeding trucks. At the back of the house, a thick forest unravels, complete with a pet cemetery used by the local kids to bury their beloved pets, and an ancient Native American burial ground, hidden farther back. Ellie, Louis and Rachel’s eight-year-old girl, is the beaming object of their affection, followed closely by two-year-old Gage. A Maine coon named Church completes this endearing picture, and it’s the cat’s tragic death that kickstarts the horror of King’s story. We follow Louis as he is first shaken but enticed by what the ‘sour dirt’ does—namely, the ancient burial ground behind the pet cemetery revives the cat. But Church doesn’t come back the same, leaving Louis doubtful as to whether he made the right choice. It’s quite obvious he didn’t.

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Of course, and as expected from a mind like Mr King’s, Louis’s beliefs and strength are put to the test again when Ellie is killed by one of the rolling trucks. His grief makes him do the unthinkable, and the end result is as one would expect: darkness, violence, and terror, with a smidge of old-fashioned horror-trope gore and a plethora of fake-scares. The viewer is dragged through the plot, which is just layer upon layer of tension-building and predictable artifices, all the way to the end, where the concept of ‘Sometimes dead is better’ is brutally replaced with an unnecessary twist.

From a screenwriting point of view, two major changes were made to the original story—in this second version of ‘Pet Sematary’, Ellie is the one who is killed and foolishly resurrected, not Gage. The end is certainly not what Mr King offered to his readers, either. The former was understandable, not only because of the complicated logistics of working with a toddler-zombie, but also because it opened up a realm of possibilities for Ellie’s character, superbly played by Jeté Laurence. The latter, however, has a lot of King fans polarized, and for good reason. We’re all asking the same question: what was the point? What was so underwhelming about the original ending that prompted Jeff Buhler to twist it beyond recognition? Not only is it pointless, but it also defeats the entire theme of the story, which is all about grieving and the unwillingness to accept or deal with death.

Louis and Jud’s relationship is practically ignored. That is probably the screenwriter’s biggest mistake. Without it, even the dynamic between Jud and Ellie is difficult to swallow, much like a bitter pill. The viewer has a hard time accepting Jud’s decision to show Louis where to bury Church, in the first place. The characters are simply spread thin, like butter over too much bread, and it is a shame, because there is still so much potential in this reboot.

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For example, the cinematography is outstanding. Laurie Rose, best known for her work in ‘Peaky Blinders’ (2016), does an exquisite job of playing with tight and wide shots, weaving them into a smooth canvas that commands the viewer’s attention. The characters, whilst lacking in development, are given room to breathe, or suffocated entirely when overcome by crippling fear. The panoramic views of Maine’s countryside are not easily forgotten, either. And let us praise almost every frame of Church, coming across as feral, fearsome, and with an untold plan long before Ellie.

The production design, helmed by Todd Cherniawski, further enhances the cinematography through its costume and set design. Having worked on major projects such as ‘Avatar’ (2009), ‘Star Trek: Discovery’ (2017), and ‘Star Wars: Episode VIII’ (2017), it is no wonder that Cherniawski was able to faithfully reproduce Mr King’s Mainestravaganza in impeccable detail. Every corner of Louis and Jud’s houses is a physical manifestation of the novel. The children’s masks, the way the pet cemetery headstones are displayed, the gritty overall vibe—they all serve to anchor the viewer deep inside the story, filling in for the screenplay’s emotional gaps.

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Another noteworthy aspect of ‘Pet Sematary’ is the sound editing. Crisp and sharp enough to cut through flesh like stretched filament wire, and accompanied by Christopher Young’s skin-prickling score, the sound is a sterling method to deliver good old-fashioned scares, of which there are plenty. While loyal to the thriller and horror genre, it is commanding, cold and in wicked correspondence with the film’s cinematography and design.

Production quality aside, however, what truly carries ‘Pet Sematary’ and stops it from causing too much anger or discomfort to its viewers—many of whom are likely King aficionados, is the actors’ performance. Aside from Jeté Laurence’s portrayal of Ellie, before and after death, Jason Clarke is startling and heart-breaking in his performance. Instrumental as the main protagonist, Clarke’s Louis Creed is a father we can all understand. He’ll do whatever he can to make his daughter happy, to keep her from getting hurt, and, eventually, to send her back where she should’ve never been taken from, to begin with: her grave.

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John Lithgow jumps out with his interpretation of Jud Crandall, a father figure to Louis in the novel but merely an almost-friend in the film. Lithgow’s thespian talents are beyond reproach, and it’s almost gut-wrenching to think of the relationships that could’ve been explored between him, Louis, Ellie, Rachel, and Norma—who doesn’t even get a second’s worth of screen time, since she’s already dead when the movie begins. Even Amy Seimetz’s Rachel Creed feels incomplete, though the directors did spend some precious moments delving into her childhood trauma regarding her sister, Zelda.

The actors were exceptional and crucial pieces to an otherwise lacking story. Unfortunately, they weren’t enough to save ‘Pet Sematary’ from some truly scathing reviews from both critics and viewers. There is only so much a team of film professionals can do, when they have insufficient material to work with. Nevertheless, the final product is good, somewhat superior to the 1989 version, for sure. But it does not hold a candle to the book, and that is the risk that every filmmaker takes when adapting a story for the screen.

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Past the praiseworthy cinematography, production design, sound editing, and the actors’ poignant delivery, ‘Pet Sematary’ feels like forced horror, perhaps too commercial for what the source material intended.

There was too much effort put into making it palatable for a mainstream audience of the aforementioned genre, and not enough attention paid to all the bits and pieces, all the threads and trinkets so carefully sculpted into the original story. 

‘Pet Sematary’ promised a lot, even through its trailer. It didn’t exceed expectations. It didn’t really meet them, either. After two endeavours, one can’t help but wonder: is the novel impossible to adapt into a feature film on a level of, say, ‘Carrie’ or ‘It’, or are we better off thinking that maybe the third time, another thirty years from now, will be a charm?