What makes a Stephen King story unique in the horror world is his ability to go from creepy to terrifying, all the while placing his tongue firmly in the cheek, with sardonic commentary on the pathetic situation his characters find themselves in. Every time a character goes towards the abandoned house, is waved at by the clown, or (in this case) turns the key of the cursed monkey, you can’t help but begin to smile through your gritted teeth. It’s the same action one supposes King is doing just as he’s writing it; and it’s why so much of his work endures. This new hit, ably adapted to film by writer and director Osgood Perkins (and producer James Wan), is no different.

Based on King’s short story for Gallery magazine in 1980, the plot centres around twin brothers Hal and Bill Shelburn (both played by Theo James), whose lives are sent into a spiral by a cursed toy monkey they receive from their deceased father (Adam Scott). The idea is simple: turn the key, and the monkey will spin its beater, and then bang its drum… oh… and then somebody dies — horrifically. There’s that rising smile again…

Fresh from writing and directing the smash horror Longlegs (2024), I’m happy to report King’s story is safe in Perkins’ hands, with plenty of good jump scares and elaborate deaths to make the audience squirm in their seats. Theo James keeps the pace up as the cursed twins, and Elijah Wood induces a grin with his cameo as the sickly parenting author Ted Hammerman, the new husband of Hal’s ex-wife. But all too often, the film dips, just when it should be finding greater pace — a frustratingly all-too-common trait of Stephen King film adaptations. So often, you’re left questioning why the scares can’t come thicker and faster. Well? Why can’t they?

I’ll explain. The reason King’s work is so hard to adapt to film is that his enduring quality as a horror writer is his propensity to ground the supernatural and terrifying within the real word. Killer monkey toys aren’t just with us by chance; they’re symbolic of a chink in the armour of our lives. In this case, it’s symbolic of the most heinous of ideas: estranged twins (as opposed to inseparable ones). “Twinned” with abject horror, this desire to root the action in real and relatable people’s lives can come across as overly sentimental, when so often the horror genre demands voyeurism. Yes, we want to imagine ourselves in the situation — but we also don’t want it to be too real. It’s why King so often uses children in his stories, plays around with time (delving into the past before bringing the narrative to the present), and why his stories depict the breakdown of the family unit. It lends itself to the page and imagination, but is harder to realise on screen. This adaptation once again falls into the same trap; but it stays the right side of creepy to keep the audience on their toes.

Playing in cinemas from 21 February, 2025.