My dear readers, though at my core I consider myself something of an optimist, always willing to give his fellow man and woman the benefit of the doubt and all that, one must bow to the possibility that common sense will not aways reign supreme. While it might seem all well and good to assume that folks can be left to their own devices, at some point a formal notification or proper signage is necessary to stave off any unwanted incidents. To provide but one example from the domestic front, there is a painting of my ancestor Caradoc Hauntedhouse that was clearly produced well before linear perspective became all the rage in portraiture. And so if you were to find his eyes following you, it would be perfectly reasonable to conclude that the effect is not an artistic one and that vacating the ancestral hall for an hour or so is perhaps the best course of action. But after more than a few of our wayward dinner guests went missing, we decided it best not to make assumptions about anyone’s familiarity with art history and to amend the plaque that sits below his portrait to include a word or two of warning.

Unfortunately, the residents of Ludlow have not adopted a similarly preventative attitude. Despite its reputation for facilitating unambiguously evil resurrections, the way to the old “Pet Semetary” has not been barred, the ground has not been consecrated and no other measure has been taken to notify the uninformed its insidious influence. And so another sequence of fatalities leads the uninitiated to seek out the unholy effects of a cursed Indian burial ground. This time around its Jeff Matthews (Edward Furlong) the young son of a veterinarian. Jeff recently lost his mother and is new to town, a difficult double bill of alienating circumstances.  

It is hardly surprising, then, that Jeff develops a morbid attraction to the Pet Semetary after he witnesses his newfound friend (Jason McGuire) using the crusty plot to bring unnatural life to his mortally wounded pup and, in time, to the man who mortally wounded the pup in the first place. Imperfect and violent as these animated corpses may be, the whole thing still gives the lad an idea or two regarding his recently departed mother. Jeff’s father (Anthony Edwards), as the lone medical professional in the bunch, does his best to tourniquet the hemorrhage of sanity that follows but the temptations presented by shoddy versions of recently lost loved ones prove to be a great challenge for the struggling widower.

Mary Lambert, director such indisputably canonical horror entries as Pet Sematary (1989), strikes a markedly different tone for this contribution to the series. Ms. Lambert provides the sequel with a much lighter touch and as someone who remembers the spinal meningitis portions of the first film, I, for one, am comfortable the idea of introducing a spot of comic relief. To achieve these unheralded levels of hilarity, she casts the ever-capable Clancy Brown as Sheriff Gus Gilbert, a man whose contemptible severity gives way to slapstick gold the very moment he dies. Witnessing this character’s progression from strict disciplinarian to undead simpleton makes merry of the grotesque in a most welcome fashion.

There are plenty of genuine horrors to be found within and anyone particularly fond of animals will still find a plentitude of reasons to be upset. But at least this time, we have a winning buffoon in our corner, leaking victuals and giggling at the crudest of jests. I myself, if I may be so shamelessly personal, am a bit of a “mutt mourner” and for this respite from the relentless shedding of smaller lives, I give Mary Lambert my sincerest thanks.

Pet Semetary II runs 100 minutes and is rated R for strong horror violence, sexuality and language.