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The Creature in the Woods: The Role of the Wendigo in Stephen King’s ‘Pet Sematary’

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Mary Lambert’s 1989 adaptation of Stephen King’s arguably bleakest novel, Pet Sematary, was fairly faithful to the source material. But it left out one crucial component from the novel. One that gives much deeper insight to what made the Micmac burial ground turn sour, remained an evil presence looming large over the entire story, and provided some of the most intense moments of horror – the Wendigo.

Though the latest trailer for the new adaptation of King’s beloved book marks some major departures from the original story, the trailer gives a little tease that the Wendigo will finally make an appearance in some capacity. But what exactly is the Wendigo, and why is its inclusion a big deal?

Obviously, novel spoilers from here on out.

In the novel, the journey past the children’s Pet Sematary to the stony Micmac burial ground is much farther and more harrowing than the ’89 film suggests. The dangerous deadfall Jud takes Louis Creed over is only the beginning as they walk three more miles through treacherous land the Micmacs referred to as Little God Swamp, a boggy place full of quicksand, strange lights, and creepy sounds, all while knee deep in thick fog. Part way through Little God Swamp, Jud stops Louis and listens to the sound of breaking branches as something ominously moves toward them.

Now the thing out there seemed so close that Louis expected to see its shape at any moment, rising up on two legs, perhaps, blotting out the stars with some unthought-of, Immense and shaggy body.” Then, “a shrill, maniacal laugh came out of the darkness, rising and falling in hysterical cycles, loud, piercing, chilling” (p. 122-113).

Despite being frozen in fear at the massive thing closing in, Jud urges them on ahead to the burial ground, and dismisses what they saw as St. Elmo’s Fire and the cries of a loon. He explains that the burial ground was abandoned long ago once one of the Micmacs claimed to have seen a Wendigo there, though Louis doesn’t yet understand what that means.

It’s not until Ellie’s cat Church returns home from his burial there that Jud elaborates a bit more on the Wendigo – an evil spirit of folklore that Jud interpreted as a metaphor for the Micmacs’ need to turn toward cannibalism during a particularly harsh winter. The Wendigo would walk through their village while they slept, and whoever it touched would develop a taste for human flesh. The evil spirit cursed their burial ground, causing it to turn sour, and those buried there return from the dead touched by the Wendigo. Or rather, possessed by it.

While King’s novel is heavily themed around grief, the Wendigo manipulates that grief throughout the story. It’s the power of the Wendigo that drives Jud to bring Louis to the Micmac burial ground in the first place, against his better judgment. It’s also this power that causes the truck driver to run Gage down. It’s what continues to lure a man broken by grief to its lair, in hopes of receiving a new host. It’s what intervenes when Jud wants to stop Louis from making a drastic mistake in burying Gage in the Micmac burial ground, and what continues to throw obstacles in Rachel’s attempts to get home to Louis on that fateful night. As Louis, driven mad by what’s happened, makes one final trip to the Micmac burial ground, the Wendigo chillingly laughs in triumph.

Then, from the deep woods behind the deadfall, woods so deep that the light looked green and tarnished even on the brightest days, a low chuckling laugh arose. The sound was huge. Steve could not even begin to image what sort of creature could have made such a sound” (p. 372).

The Wendigo is pure evil, and the chilling puppet master orchestrating every tragedy and mistake that befalls the characters in the story. While it remains to be seen just how much of a role the creature will play in the new film, its inclusion means a new layer of horror yet to be introduced in what was once a familiar story.

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Co-Host of the Bloody Disgusting Podcast. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon and SeriesFest.

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‘Halloween: Illustrated’ Review: Original Novelization of John Carpenter’s Classic Gets an Upgrade

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Film novelizations have existed for over 100 years, dating back to the silent era, but they peaked in popularity in the ’70s and ’80s, following the advent of the modern blockbuster but prior to the rise of home video. Despite many beloved properties receiving novelizations upon release, a perceived lack of interest have left a majority of them out of print for decades, with desirable titles attracting three figures on the secondary market.

Once such highly sought-after novelization is that of Halloween by Richard Curtis (under the pen name Curtis Richards), based on the screenplay by John Carpenter and Debra Hill. Originally published in 1979 by Bantam Books, the mass market paperback was reissued in the early ’80s but has been out of print for over 40 years.

But even in book form, you can’t kill the boogeyman. While a simple reprint would have satisfied the fanbase, boutique publisher Printed in Blood has gone above and beyond by turning the Halloween novelization into a coffee table book. Curtis’ unabridged original text is accompanied by nearly 100 new pieces of artwork by Orlando Arocena to create Halloween: Illustrated.

One of the reasons that The Shape is so scary is because he is, as Dr. Loomis eloquently puts it, “purely and simply evil.” Like the film sequels that would follow, the novelization attempts to give reason to the malevolence. More ambiguous than his sister or a cult, Curtis’ prologue ties Michael’s preternatural abilities to an ancient Celtic curse.

Jumping to 1963, the first few chapters delve into Michael’s childhood. Curtis hints at a familial history of evil by introducing a dogmatic grandmother, a concerned mother, and a 6-year-old boy plagued by violent nightmares and voices. The author also provides glimpses at Michael’s trial and his time at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, which not only strengthens Loomis’ motivation for keeping him institutionalized but also provides a more concrete theory on how Michael learned to drive.

Aside from a handful of minor discrepancies, including Laurie stabbing Michael in his manhood, the rest of the book essentially follows the film’s depiction of that fateful Halloween night in 1978 beat for beat. Some of the writing is dated like a smutty fixation on every female character’s breasts and a casual use of the R-word but it otherwise possesses a timelessness similar to its film counterpart. The written version benefits from expanded detail and enriched characters.

The addition of Arocena’s stunning illustrations, some of which are integrated into the text, creates a unique reading experience. The artwork has a painterly quality to it but is made digitally using vectors. He faithfully reproduces many of Halloween‘s most memorable moments, down to actor likeness, but his more expressionistic pieces are particularly striking.

The 224-page hardcover tome also includes an introduction by Curtis who details the challenges of translating a script into a novel and explains the reasoning behind his decisions to occasionally subvert the source material and a brief afterword from Arocena.

Novelizations allow readers to revisit worlds they love from a different perspective. It’s impossible to divorce Halloween from the film’s iconography Carpenter’s atmospheric direction and score, Dean Cundey’s anamorphic cinematography, Michael’s expressionless mask, Jamie Lee Curtis’ star-making performance but Halloween: Illustrated paints a vivid picture in the mind’s eye through Curtis’ writing and Arocena’s artwork.

Halloween: Illustrated is available now.

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