‘Salem’s Lot’ Review: A Stephen King Classic Gets Drained of Substance in Max’s So-So Adaptation
It’s the fall of 1975 when writer Ben Mears (Lewis Pullman) returns to his childhood home in rural Maine, hoping the sleepy enclave might offer something in the way of inspiration. His previous books have been derided by critics. His publishers, it seems, are losing patience.
Ben spends most of his days in the library, where his presence and research into the archives becomes the talk of the town. Susan Norton (Makenzie Leigh), a fledgling real estate broker, catches his eye and the two form an easy friendship that eventually morphs into romance. But just as Ben’s settling in and tempering the suspicions of locals, one boy (Cade Woodward) disappears and another (Nicholas Crovetti) dies. It’s easy to wonder if this new guy — quiet, strange, from the big city — might somehow be involved.
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Premiering on Max, Salem’s Lot is a clipped horror that partially works thanks to a handful of assured performances and key style choices. Unlike the Stephen King novel it’s based on or Tobe Hooper’s popular 1979 miniseries adaptation, however, director Gary Dauberman’s new film forgoes much of the small town drama to delight in typical creature feature machinations.
It’s a missed opportunity, since most of the narrative’s atmospheric dread comes from understanding the prejudices and petty dramas of this claustrophobic suburban milieu. King has said that the cultural anxieties of the 1970s — specifically, the prevailing mood of suspicion brought on by CIA activities — influenced his thematic focuses in the book. Part of what makes Barlow (played in this version by Alexander Ward), the vampire at the center of the story, so persuasive is his ability to prey on the fears of a tight-knit community.
Dauberman, who is best known for his Conjuring universe entries Annabelle, Annabelle: Creation and Annabelle Comes Home, and casting director Rich Delia make some inspired choices that complicate King’s tale. Most notably, they make Mark (Jordan Preston Carter), the precocious new kid whose fearlessness inspires equal parts admiration and suspicion from his classmates, Black. But Dauberman’s screenplay misses the chance to consider how Mark’s race is considered in this mostly white, seemingly conservative area.
Mark’s personality, which is typified by the impulsivity of youth, is well complemented by Ben, played with a soft-spoken and bookish posture by Pullman (recently seen as a grifter in Elizabeth Banks’ slight but entertaining thriller Skincare). As relative newcomers to this insular enclave of paranoid cops and gossipy ladies, Ben and Mark share a status as outsiders and are thrust into each other’s lives after the disappearance of the boys whom Mark had counted as friends.
Ralph’s abduction is staged with a striking use of silhouettes, in one of a handful of exciting style choices that also includes a visual language defined by cold blues and even chillier oranges. It doesn’t take long for Mark to realize that vampires are behind the disappearance of his friends. To save the community, he partners with the adults around him, including Ben, Susan, English teacher Mr. Burke (Bill Camp) and physician Dr. Cody (Alfre Woodard).
Dauberman’s directorial confidence comes through more strongly after the crew figures out that Barlow is trying to turn the town. The action sequences feature thrilling moments — some more intentionally funny than others — that make Salem’s Lot perfect to watch with a crowd. Think too deeply, though, and the lack of stakes becomes too apparent to ignore. Ben and Mark’s relationship is central to the narrative, and Carter and Pullman deliver performances that highlight how their characters, bonded by traumatic turns of events, come to care for each other. But they’re so thinly developed that it’s difficult to invest in their adventure.
Part of the struggle with this revamped Salem’s Lot is where Dauberman chooses to focus his attention during the slender runtime. This version runs a little under two hours, which can feel meager when compared to Hopper’s 1979 version or Mikael Salomon’s 2004 miniseries. In its eagerness to get to the monster material, the film abandons the enduring themes of King’s novel: the paranoia bred by a specific kind of suburban and rural American life, the xenophobic attitudes that blind people to the reality of their situation and how much they need one another to survive.
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