Cujo (1983) review: Stephen King’s rabid dog classic lacks bite

Welcome to Knockout Horror. Today we are looking at a Stephen King novel-based classic – the rabies-infested, canine chaos of Cujo (1983).

The story follows a woman and her son who, after heading to the local mechanic for some car work, find themselves attacked by a rabid St. Bernard dog. Thus beginning a days long struggle against the choking heat, dehydration, and relentless attacks as they are trapped in their car by the merciless mutt.

The Hound and the Pinto: A (Sort of) True Story

The story behind Cujo’s conception (the story, not the dog itself) might go some way to explaining the elaborate way in which a writer’s minds work. Stephen King had gone to a local mechanic to have his car fixed. When he arrived, he was greeted by a rather cantankerous St. Bernard. He wasn’t hurt but this inspired him to apply the real life worst case scenario to this event and turn it into a novel.

“The novel was a gut-wrenching tragedy as much as it was a horror. The adaptation is a simple monster movie. It loses all of that.”

He somehow came up with over 300 pages of fiction surrounding two people trapped inside a car by an angry hound. Not just any angry hound, of course, but one of the world’s most well loved “nanny dogs”. A breed famed for their laid back and affable natures.

King even featured one of his own cars, a Ford Pinto, as the second antagonist of the story. A vehicle which was notoriously unreliable and, in many cases, legitimately dangerous thanks to some extremely stupid fuel tank placement.

It’s a plot that’s noteworthy for being, on one hand, more feasible than most but, on the other, as ridiculous as It or The Tommy Knockers. I mean, sure, dogs become rabid and they bite people. But I doubt that a quick Google search will turn up anything other than this film and the novel it is based on. Certainly very few, if any, real life cases of this happening.

Apparently the script for Cujo landed in the hands of Halloween director John Carpenter, at one point. He deemed it to be too ridiculous, however, and instead decided to opt for directing the far more believable Christine which features a car that becomes sentient and goes on a killing spree.

Wagging Tails and a Man in a Dog Suit

Needless to say, this was a production that was fraught with difficulties. The studio fired director Peter Medak and cinematographer Alex Richmond (or they left depending on which story you believe) after just a couple of hours on set. The studio hired Lewis Teague as a replacement, at King’s request. He brought along future Speed director Jan de Bont to work as director of photography.

Tasked with hitting the ground running. They jumped in immediately on a movie that had already started shooting. The problems weren’t over, however. Far from it! The crew were quickly hit with a major issue and it came in the form of the film’s furry antagonist.

St. Bernards are famously docile and far from willing to engage in the violent outbursts needed to replicate Cujo’s rabid state. Five puppers shared the role and none of them seemed to quite understand the manic motivation required. There was absolutely no method acting, here.

Tails had to be tied down due to relentless wagging. The pooches gleefully and repeatedly licked off the egg and sugar based mix used for the foam around their mouths. And the director’s instructions were followed with a lack of enthusiasm that would make Bill Murray blush.

Teague had to resort to a more compliant Labrador in a St. Bernard suit for certain scenes and even a stunt actor in a dog costume for others. That wasn’t all. Lead star Dee Wallace ended up in a weeks long state of hysteria due to the intensity of the shoot.

This would go on to cause a period of exhaustion for her after the filming wrapped. She even takes a nasty bite from co-star Danny Pintauro at one point. Who’d have thought it was the child’s teeth she had to worry about, not the dog’s?

Was It All Worth It?

For all that effort, Cujo released to a negative reception and for good reason. This is one of the weaker King adaptations from a purely objective point of view. It’s, quite frankly, a fairly boring and unimaginative movie.

The first half builds pretty slowly. We, naturally, have to establish how Cujo was actually a very good boy. A bite from a rabid bat sent him on his path towards a career in munching on people. His gradual change from best boy to bitey boy is flanked by some very vanilla family drama between our protagonist Donna and her husband Vic.

It feels every bit like the type of padding you would expect when you need to truncate the 40 minutes we are about to spend staring at the ugly interior of a Pinto. While the baking hot sun that is slowly cooking the mother and son inside of their locked car is definitely oppressive, the threat here feels a bit milquetoast.

That’s not to mention the abundance of idiot plot follies that make up almost every action sequence. Not a single character acts logically or with any sense. They do the complete opposite of what they should be doing in each and every scenario. It gets old very fast.

From Gut-Wrenching Tragedy to “Simple Monster Movie”

It’s a real shame because, let’s be honest, a rabid 200lb pooch with a bad temper is definitely something to be scared of. But there’s so little going on here that it never really amounts to anything. Cujo gets by on the same basic scare sequence repeated over and over again. The mum opens the car door for some reason, the dog charges at her, she closes it, and the dog barks at the window. It gets old very fast.

As soon as you realise that the dog can’t actually break through the glass, the threat feels fairly minimal. The movie then transforms into something of a wait-and-see story of what events will lead to the pair escaping the confines of the vehicle.

It’s extremely repetitive and, ultimately, extremely predictable. All of which robs mercilessly from the tension and atmosphere. Cujo is far from the scariest of King adaptations and it feels like it is dragging its feet, for the most part.

“Dee Wallace’s performance goes some way to adding some serious weight to the proceedings. She looked like she wanted to tear her hair out in frustration.”

The novel was actually told partly from the perspective of Cujo himself. Something which actually adds a ton of intrigue to the story but the movie simply could not replicate that narrative structure. The novel was a gut-wrenching tragedy as much as it was a horror. It was a genuinely sad story about a dog who wanted to be good but was being overtaken by something truly evil. The adaptation is a simple monster movie. It loses all of that.

Appreciating the Suffering (On Both Sides of the Screen)

Dee Wallace’s performance goes some way to adding some serious weight to the proceedings. She was, evidently, having a hell of a time and she looked like she wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. This quickly becomes the strongest part of the film. It’s very easy to appreciate her suffering.

You really relate to her when she screams at her son due to his constant crying, as well. I was wanting to do the exact same thing. Tad’s obnoxiousness is almost turn the damn thing off worthy. Though I suppose fairly believable given the scenario.

The cinematography and direction does deserve some praise. There are some great perspective shots here and there that feel very inventive. Teague also captured the oppressive nature of that overwhelming heat tremendously well. This movie is almost hot to the touch. There’s some fantastic foggy scenery shots, as well, that are simply a joy.

I should probably mention the sound production, as well. The abundance of loud, aggressive barking coupled with the constant screaming is deliberately designed to overwhelm your sense. For better or for worse, it works. Cujo is a definite head splitter when it comes to noise.

Our Scoring Philosophy: A Fair Fight

Horror is a genre that thrives thanks to indie film makers and low budget creators. At Knockout Horror, we firmly believe that every movie that we review deserves a fair fight. That's why we grade on a curve. Our star ratings are all about context, judging a film on what it achieves with the resources it has.

A 4-star rating for a scrappy indie horror made for $10,000 is a testament to its ingenuity and raw power. A 4-star rating for a $100 million blockbuster means it delivered on its epic promises. We don't compare them side-by-side; we celebrate success in every weight class, from the back-alley brawler to the heavyweight champion. Please keep this in mind when considering star ratings.