When the second trailer dropped for the new adaptation of Pet Sematary, reactions were divisive. A major departure in Stephen King’s overly familiar story seemed to give everything away in that one bit of marketing. But directors Kevin Kolsch and Dennis Widmyer, the minds behind the brutal Starry Eyes, weren’t messing around. Everything you thought you knew about this story still won’t prepare you for the abject terror and intimate relationship with grief that they’ve prepared.

For those familiar with Stephen King’s 1983 novel, and subsequently Mary Lambert’s 1989 adaptation, Pet Sematary tells of the Creed family and their recent move to the small town of Ludlow, Maine. Hoping for a quieter life that allows for more time spent with the family, the opposite proves to be true when tragedy strikes and an Indian burial ground hidden in the Creed’s own backyard provides a temptation to defy the very nature of death, leading to catastrophic depths of horror.

One of King’s most well-known, and most terrifying works of all time, how do you approach another cinematic adaptation? Especially considering how involved King was in writing the screenplay of the first film. Well, if you’re screenwriter Jeff Buhler and directors Kolsch and Widmyer, you catch the audience with their pants around their ankles. Everything you thought you knew about this familiar tale will be used against you in the most invigorating, and chilling ways.

This take on Pet Sematary assumes you already know how this story will play out, and subverts that knowledge at every possible turn. From the moment the Creed family arrives, Kolsch and Widmyer honor the very essence of what made King’s novel so utterly terrifying while taking the story in unexpected directions. After a familiar start that introduces us to Louis Creed (Jason Clarke) assuming a new, quieter job at the college campus to spend more time with his wife Rachel (Amy Seimetz), daughter Ellie (Jete Laurence), and son Gage (Hugo and Lucas Lavoie), Louis finds his first day of work overwhelmed by the horrific accident of Victor Pascow (Obssa Ahmed) while Ellie finds herself interested in a funeral procession heading toward the Pet Sematary in the depths of her backyard. It leads to her bonding with neighbor Judd Crandall (John Lithgow), the gruff old man who finds himself moved by Ellie’s sweet innocence. From that point on Kolsch and Widmyer take this story in completely new directions while retaining the core themes of King’s novel.

While many of the same story beats play out in relatively similar fashion, Rachel is given a far more satisfying arc than ever before. Seimetz outshines Clarke as the spouse grappling with the very concept of death, stemming back to a traumatic childhood with her older sister Zelda. Between Seimetz’s captivating performance and the role she’s given here, Rachel Creed is the one we nearly wish was the focal point of the film. As for Zelda, it seemed difficult to conceive anything could’ve topped the nightmare fuel of Lambert’s vision in her ’89 adaptation. Until Kolsch and Widmyer decided that instead of competing, they could bring an entirely different take to the fold. This Zelda is may be different, and yet she’s so extremely scary in her own right. Seriously. It’s so impressively scary.

For a 2 hour run time, you never feel it. Kolsch and Widmyer keep things moving at such a brisk pace. They also layer in an unexpected level of dark humor, which helps when the horror sinks to visceral, singular levels of edge-of-your-seat terror. And it does, often. There’s a level of danger that wasn’t present in the ’89 adaptation. The changes are such a big departure from the source material that it’s quite likely to ruffle feathers of book purists, but it retains the core essence of King’s themes and it always works for the better. And the final act is so absolutely off the rails bonkers that it’s amazing that a big studio release ever let it pass. It’s freaking twisted.

Here’s the bottom line: Pet Sematary doesn’t dare bother following the footsteps of its predecessors. Kolsch and Widmyer don’t bother retreading the story we know and instead give us something far more satisfying in its own right. Instead, they give us a story so bone-chilling, so substantial, and even with a little bit of humor to alleviate the brutal blow of abject terror. It honors every bit of King’s meditation on death and grief while retaining its own identity. Truthfully, I could write another 2000 words on why this is such a great take on one of the best King stories there is, but I’d rather you see if for yourself. Forget King’s novel or the ’89 film, there’s room in the genre space for them all to coexist. Go in fresh, and let the exhilarating tale of primitive dread and anguish wash over you. It’s shocking, heartbreaking, freaking scary, and even funny. It’s worth it.