In 1983, audiences were first introduced to Cujo, a grim and suspenseful tale based on Stephen King’s best-selling novel. Now, over four decades later, Netflix is reviving this terrifying story with a modern, intense reimagining titled CUJO (2025). Produced by Roy Lee (It, Barbarian, The Ring) and starring Scarlett Johansson in a raw, unfiltered role, this updated version is not just a remake—it’s a descent into claustrophobic dread, animalistic fear, and emotional collapse.
This is no longer just a story about a rabid dog; it is a horrifying character study, a survival thriller set in a confined space, and a chilling portrait of motherhood on the edge of madness.
Set in a quiet rural town, CUJO (2025) follows Donna Trenton (Scarlett Johansson), a single mother struggling to balance her unraveling personal life and the needs of her young son, Tad. While visiting a remote mechanic to get her car fixed, the two are unexpectedly stranded when their vehicle breaks down under the blazing summer sun.
Their seemingly simple errand transforms into a waking nightmare when Cujo, a once-gentle Saint Bernard, now infected with rabies, traps them inside the car. With no water, no shade, and no contact with the outside world, Donna must find a way to protect her child while battling dehydration, heatstroke, and her own mounting terror.
The enemy? A relentless 200-pound beast whose mind has been consumed by disease—and perhaps something darker.
Scarlett Johansson is no stranger to complex roles, but in CUJO, she delivers a performance unlike any in her filmography. Stripped of glamour, Johansson portrays a mother in survival mode, navigating panic, guilt, and primal rage with raw authenticity.
Her physical transformation is stark—sweat-drenched, dirt-smeared, with bloodshot eyes and trembling limbs. Yet it is her emotional unraveling that captivates most. In tight, breathless scenes filmed inside the car, Johansson explores what it means to be helpless yet determined, afraid but unbreakable.
Donna Trenton becomes not a damsel in distress, but a symbol of feral, maternal instinct when everything else is lost.
Known for producing genre-defining horror hits like The Grudge, The Ring, It, and Barbarian, Roy Lee brings his signature style of slow-building dread and psychological torment to CUJO. This is not a film that relies on jump scares or demonic possession. The horror here is grounded, visceral, and inescapably human.
The decision to keep the story small in scale—centered largely around a single location and minimal characters—amplifies the anxiety. The car becomes a tomb. The dog, a relentless, mindless predator. The heat, the thirst, and the helplessness slowly chip away at the characters and the audience alike.
Lee described CUJO (2025) as “more of an endurance test than a haunted house ride,” and that’s exactly what it feels like.
Where the original film focused on the sheer terror of the situation, the 2025 remake goes further, diving into Donna’s emotional trauma, her failed marriage, and the psychological weight of motherhood. The script, written by an as-yet-unnamed but acclaimed screenwriter, adds layers of context to the characters, without slowing the film’s relentless pace.
This version of CUJO doesn’t just ask “What if you were trapped with a rabid dog?” It asks:
- What happens when you’re already on the verge of collapse?
- What if this dog isn’t the only thing that’s been slowly killing you?
- What does survival cost you, emotionally and mentally?
It’s horror as metaphor—and it hits hard.
Visually, CUJO (2025) is a masterclass in atmospheric tension. The cinematography leans heavily into tight framing, sweaty close-ups, and wide shots that emphasize the isolation of the dusty, sun-scorched field surrounding the car. The hot color palette amplifies the discomfort—yellows, browns, and reds dominate the screen.
Sound plays an equally critical role. You hear the heavy panting of the dog, the thudding of its massive body against the metal doors, the desperate cries of the child, and the eerie silence between attacks. The minimalistic score throbs like a heartbeat in moments of calm, then spikes into screeching chaos during attacks.
The result? A film that not only shows terror—but makes you physically feel it.
Unlike traditional horror villains, Cujo is not evil—he is a victim. In this film, the dog is not CGI-heavy but instead brought to life through a combination of real animal acting, practical effects, and enhanced visual cues. His transformation is gradual and grotesque, with pus-filled eyes, foaming jaws, and blood-caked fur.
Yet, despite his horrifying appearance, there are moments where the film lets you see the tragedy of Cujo’s condition. This was once a gentle, loyal creature—now reduced to pure instinct and agony.
It’s a heartbreaking monster. And that’s part of what makes him unforgettable.
CUJO isn’t just about a dog attack—it’s a psychological exploration of how far a parent can be pushed to protect their child. Donna’s physical entrapment mirrors her emotional state—cornered by divorce, loneliness, and guilt. The car becomes a prison not just from the beast outside, but from her own shame and internal torment.
The film subtly critiques modern dependence on technology (no signal, no GPS), our fragility in the face of nature, and how trauma manifests in moments of extreme stress.
It’s a story about survival, but also about resilience. And in the end, it doesn’t just ask who will live—but who will remain whole.
The teaser trailer, released in mid-2025, broke viewership records for a horror title on Netflix. Within 72 hours, it had over 30 million views, with social media abuzz about the haunting visuals and Johansson’s fierce transformation. Critics who attended an early preview at Cannes described it as:
“A brutal, nerve-shredding experience that leaves you breathless.”
— Variety
“Scarlett Johansson is a revelation. This is her Room meets The Descent.”
— IndieWire
Fans of both Stephen King and elevated horror alike are calling CUJO (2025) one of the most anticipated releases of the year.
Netflix’s CUJO isn’t just a remake—it’s a redefinition of survival horror. It strips the genre down to its rawest components: fear, desperation, isolation, and instinct. It takes one of literature’s simplest premises—a mother and child trapped in a car by a mad dog—and stretches it into a harrowing, primal odyssey.
With a powerhouse lead performance, a harrowing yet deeply human script, and direction that bleeds tension from every frame, CUJO (2025) doesn’t just aim to scare—it aims to wound, to leave a mark, to linger long after the screen fades to black.
This is horror with heart. And it’s going to bite deep.
📅 CUJO (2025) premieres worldwide on Netflix in late 2025.
🔪 Prepare to be trapped, hunted, and tested like never before.
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