Collins Crypt: No lessons learned from PET SEMATARY

"This movie is locked until 2032."

That was my last word on Mary Lambert Pet Sematary excerpt from an article that I wrote shortly after the birth of my son and that was a list of films that I did not think I could revisit, because at that time I spent every moment awake in the constant fear that something will happen to my beloved child. Fortunately, in the last four years (Jesus …), I've had less panic, so not only am I able to sleep again, but I've been able to watch the movie thirteen years earlier that I had supposed, and even watch this week's new adaptation with a minimum of worry (despite the advanced knowledge that they were making changes and I might not be able to calm down the nerves because I knew what was coming). Naturally, the new scene of the accident left me a lump in the throat and, in turn, I may have watched my child once again that night before I bed myself, but what kind of crippling, "no no no no no" reaction I received from movies like this? It was completely gone.

… until I decide stupidly to reread Stephen King's original novel, for the first time as a father.

Now the first movie and most of the new (good warning, there will be SPOILERS for those who have not seen the new movie yet) are quite faithful to the novel, especially as regards the character of Louis Creed, that is to say the guy with whom I identify the most easily. So, why do I agree with the movies now that the book had literally thrown me aside at some point so that I could calm down with some personal videos of my son? Why was I able to watch this infamous truck crash scene without a break, but I had to stop myself twice to get through Louis's opening description (less than three pages) the coffin of Gage? These are the banal details, something that is largely missing from both films. The part of the book that made me throw it on my couch next door was not even accident; It was an interlude where Louis and Gage fly a kite together, having one of those perfectly beautiful but natural days that I myself had with my son. The scene is nothing horrible until King does what he likes to do and informs the reader that someone in this scene will soon be dead, in which case the adorable toddler.

I've recently read King's Joyland and even tweeted about his inclination to do so, noting that in this particular book, he used the device more often than usual. But in this case, it made sense – the main character of the present told the story, telling an idyllic summer where he had lost his virginity and also solved a murder of several decades (on different occasions, I must emphasize) . It is therefore logical that he frequently speaks of people in the past and that he "take time out on himself" by telling the story. In Pet Sematarythere's really nothing like that for a moment – it's in the present tense, there's no first-person narrator, and so on. So when the passage on Gage and Louis having their perfect day ends with "And Gage, who now had less than two months to live, laughed happily," I lost it.

There are several reasons for this. The main one being that, like all adaptations (especially those of King), movies have to deal with a lot of things to get to all the important parts, so we've never had so much time with Gage (or Ellie, in the new) as we do in the book. Here we learn that his favorite cereal is Cocoa Bears and that he has a penchant for copying his big sister (even when she swears), we worry about her brief fight against the flu, we know it hides Matchbox cars under the couch. it is developed enough to make more of a real person than a baby who will soon be dead (it is useless in the movie, the mother even calls it "the baby" much more often than by his real name). Plus, even though I know this comes from the knowledge of the story, receiving this advanced notification makes you feel more helpless when you press to reach the inevitable few pages later, which do not help.

But also, strangely, it reminded me of my cat Butters, to whom I had not thought much until then despite what should have been a number of triggers. Now, everyone who knows the story knows that Church (shortcut for Winston Churchill) is the "monster" of the story, because the awakening of Gage is a kind of spoiler (the book has gone over half of his journey when he collapsed, there is less less than 10% on his return), and it is the return of the cat that gives the story the essence of its fears (and also the intrigue on the move). However, despite the presence of the Church and the descriptions of all these other pets in the appropriate "semaire", it is only when King teased Gage's death that the fairly recent loss of my own cat really sounded. It's Halloween night that the call of the veterinary hospital where he stood for a day (after acting strangely enough to worry me and drive him there- down) I warned that he was not submitting to the procedures and that the tests were still there. I did not find out what was wrong with him and so I had to go there to say goodbye to my best friend during what is normally my favorite day of the day. year.

I think that's the main reason why I got upset about the book – King was practically giving us a date when that would happen, while my "other" child was there and normal one day, leaving the next day – I did not understand. heads-up or subconscious desire to still have a great day with him. And for all my life, I can not think of my last normal time / content with Butters: did he sit with me the night before while I was playing on Xbox? Did I rub my back in the morning when he woke me up so that he would be fed as he usually did (with a slight tap to the face), or did he? that I told him to scramble and let me sleep a few more minutes? And these thoughts always end in the same way: "If I knew that he would be dead tomorrow, I would have done it differently." Hell, even in the new movie, where Church's death went from Thanksgiving to Halloween, I did not really get pissed off (beyond a brief sort of "Oh you're wanking", the change in the world). mood to change coincide), but King teases us with the possible idea that Louis knew unknowingly that his time with his son was about to end, so I really hit the belly. I had to say goodbye to my buddy (Will did not do it, alas), but he was plugged into machines and (thanks, doc, for saying that unnecessarily then that they prepared this last shot), "I did not even realize I was there", so this is not a last memory to cherish.

The book also gives us something concrete in none of the films: to make Louis look less stupid for using the Micmac Cemetery in Ludlow Woods. In the film, it sounds like a kind of mixture of shock and anger that the man does, with apparently no hesitation, but here we have his inner turmoil, how often he thinks to abandon the plan, and so on. to be pushed by a certain force. The 1989 movie skips over all the reasons that Jud might have for even telling the place to Louis, but the new one tries to at least explain it to both with the supernatural (John Lithgow's Jud hears voices / sounds at one point, as if and with some logic of decent horror movie – Jud said that his childhood dog was mean anyway, so he did not think about it a lot when he came back as such, never realizing that the place was making things bad on their return.

The new film also offers a moment that has never been seen in the older film or even in King's novel: a brief scene in which we see Louis getting everything he wanted, even if it is only momentarily. While the two incarnations of Gage immediately came to kill after crawling out of the grave (again, this represents the last 35 pages of the book of nearly 400 pages, and only covers the last 20 minutes of the film's 1989), Ellie resumes her time. The day after his return, Louis (Jason Clarke) goes down and sees her dancing in the living room. Outside of her pale skin and dirty clothes, it could have been any morning, back to normal. Louis smiled a little; It's probably the last time in the movie that we see him doing it, and then reality collapses as she begins to break objects in the living room as part of her routine. But for just a few seconds, we see exactly what the other Louis Creeds and all the parents who have already read the book / saw the movie and who said "I would probably do it too" wanted to: just live one of those mundane moments again.

There is a poem called "The last time" (author unknown) I have never been able to read without crying since Will's birth, which erases what parents do not notice disappeared until they disappear: the last time that a child sleeps on his lap, the last time he / she reaches out to cross the street (perfect example for this story!), etc. I go as far as "reading a last story at bedtime" before losing it, and there are already some personal examples that are not I do not remember the moment when they stopped. The genius of King's book – and in their own way, the two films – is to illustrate the ultimate loss and give the reader / viewer a glimpse of what can happen if you play God and find a way to keep them time at bay, apparently to convince you that it is better to accept defeat and move on … but without ever convincing Louis Creed, who rides for the third time in this mountain. Because King knows that logic is self-evident when it comes to these things, and it would be a hypocrite to suggest to any parent to be able to completely ignore the lure of getting another moment, whatever the circumstances.