Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Pet Sematary: Bloodlines’ on Paramount+, a Prequel to a Middling Stephen King Property

What would Stream and Scream be without a new Stephen King thing? Pet Sematary: Bloodlines (now streaming on Paramount+) isn’t technically a story from the warped mind of the celebrated author, but it’s close – director and co-scripter Lindsey Anderson Beer conceptualized it as a “prequel to the book” that was adapted twice for the screen, in 1989 and 2019. And so we get an origin story, not necessarily about the mysterious burial ground that brings dead things back to life, but about the Jud Crandall character (played by Fred Gwynne in the original 1989 movie), who knows all about his town’s scary secrets. The big question here is whether we should give a poop about this story or not. 

PET SEMATARY: BLOODLINES: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: GOTTA GET THE EFF OUTTA LUDLOW. That’s Judson Crandall’s (Jackson White) M.O., but more so that of his ol’ man, Dan (Henry Thomas), a horn-rimmed, graying-templed, plaid-shirted, cigarette-smoking, grave-toned, square-jawed Stephen King Character if I’ve ever seen one. Catch him out of the corner of your eye, and you’d think he was King himself. Dan’s been in Ludlow his whole life and he knows everything about it and he knows it’s best if his boy gets the eff outta here cuz the place just ain’t no good. There’s a darkness to it, see, an old secret darkness that sometimes seeps out, and that’s why he’s coldly pushing his fresh-faced adult son away, in hopes of motivating him to R-U-N-N-O-F-T to a better place. And that’s what Jud’s doing – he and his sweetie Norma (Natalie Alyn Lind) are packing up the car to go join the Peace Corps. It’s 1969.

Of course you know, Jud isn’t gonna make it out, since this movie precludes the original Pet Sematary, in which Jud was a Ludlow lifer. So, as the guy once said, wha happen’d? Some freaky shit, that’s what. It all begins with scraggly Bill (David Duchovny), who we meet as he drags a body into the “sematary” and buries it. That’s his son, Timmy (Jack Mulhern), who came back from ’Nam with a Silver Star in the coffin with him. Uh oh. Looks like he’s about to make a return trip from Resurrection City. Cut to Jud and Norma, on their way out of town for good when a bad omen slams into their windshield. It’s just a bird, but it isn’t just a bird, you know? They get out of the car and spot Timmy’s dog, who doesn’t look right. He’s filthy and gives off a DON’T YOU F—IN’ PET ME vibe. They gingerly walk the devilish pooch back to Timmy’s house, where they get a similar vibe from the man, who just stands there like he’s, I dunno, undead or something, as the dog mauls Norma and puts her in the hospital. It seems the Peace Corps will have to wait until she convalesces.

Now what the h-e-double-hockeysticks is wrong with Timmy? It seems to go beyond PTSD from the war, or even growing up with the last name “Baterman.” At this point, we get about 45 minutes of hand-wringing and the introduction of a handful of Key Townsfolk, so the plot has some people it can murder. The most crucial is Manny (Forrest Goodluck), who was tight bros with Jud and Timmy when they were kids, sneaking beers out in the treehouse; he lives with his sister Donna (Isabella Star LaBlanc), and they’re Native American, so that automatically means they’re more in touch with the land and its secrets than any of the White people around these parts. There’s also the local cop (John W. Lawson), the local mail carrier (Pam Grier!), the local priest (Vincent Leclerc) who’s always drunk because if God was in Ludlow it wouldn’t be so miserable, and Jud’s local mother (Samantha Mathis). The bottom of this will be gotten to, but at what cost? Besides your highly valuable time, of course? 

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Recent middling King fare The Boogeyman was similarly lackluster; thank the lawd it’s not as crappo as 2022’s Firestarter reboot.

Performance Worth Watching: Goodluck seems to be the only one who’s committed to a performance that’s more than 1.63 notes. 

Memorable Dialogue: It’s not dialogue, but it’s the most inspired “line” in the movie: One of the dog graves is marked with a wooden cross carved with the words “BIFFER, HELLUVA SNIFFER.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: The climactic sequence of Pet Sematary: Bloodlines finds Jud slogging knee-deep through a swamp and, having watched the entire movie, I know exactly how his shins felt. So much of this movie is visually murky unto incomprehension, I felt like I was peering through a quarter-inch of sludge. You’d think the most important sequences of any movie shouldn’t force you to squint at a dimly lit screen, trying to determine where characters are in relation to each other, but this film apparently begs to differ.

That isn’t my biggest issue with Bloodlines, though. It struggles to justify its existence thematically, posing questions about the nature of “home” and what it means and why we stay there and why we leave there, without following through on the idea. Ludlow has a grip on people for no discernible reason. I know that moving away from the place that made you is easier said than done, but what if it’s haunted by – checks notes – an ancient Native curse (I think?) that transforms the dead into CHUDs? Is that enough motivation? The successors of the town’s founders apparently adhere to some sort of responsibility or stewardship of, you know, things, and so they stay. I guess. If their goal is to keep people out of the “sematary,” they’re doing a remarkably poor job.

Beer’s direction is at best workmanlike, nurturing some atmosphere, often at the expense of character development, and therefore our emotional investment; she shows some facile vision in a handful of nifty, shocking horror shots, but it’s not enough. It’s a movie that insists Things of Consequence are happening, but fails to fully convince us that they’re consequential, despite its relentlessly grim tone. It’s a mediocre film, brutally so. 

Our Call: Bloodlines makes the master of horror a maser of bore-or. SKIP IT. 

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.