Carrie (1976)

Stephen King is widely regarded as a master or the horror/suspense genre, and with fifty-five published novels under his belt, one of the most prolific. His first novel, and consequently the first film adapted from his writing, Carrie, is a mainstay of the horror genre. Heralded as not only one of the best adaptations of King’s work, but as one of the best horror films ever made, Carrie has been keeping audiences on the edge of their seats for almost forty years.

Opening in a manner befit of a cliché 1970’s porno, Carrie follows a group of girls into the locker room, where the steamy atmosphere is ripe with hairspray and teenage angst. Carrie White (Sissy Spacek), one of the least unlikable, yet most disliked girl in school, suffers crippling embarrassment at the ever-brutal hands of Mother Nature. The rest of the film follows thusly, mostly showing Carrie being the butt of jokes, and being constantly belittled by everyone – including her mother. Things take a much darker turn when Carrie’s hopes are built up by her crush’s invitation to prom, and dashed by the cruelty of teenage girls.

Director Brian De Palma (Scarface, The Untouchables) and King, by way of screenwriter Lawrence D. Cohen make Carrie one of the most sympathetic high school loners of all time. Quiet, polite, utterly innocent, and taken under the wing of the gym teacher, it’s almost hard to see what anyone could have against such an unassuming person. Her only faults come from her awkwardness, which are a direct result of some of the worst parenting since Cinderella.

Carrie’s Evangelical mother (Piper Laurie) masks her abuse under the guise of religion. Forcing her daughter into quiet submission, and fearful obedience, she uses her pamphlets on the Bible and Jesus to inflict incredible mental pain upon Carrie. Locking her in a “prayer closet” adorned with sadistic Christian mementos of Jesus’ suffering, she is seen by the audience as the root cause of Carrie’s ailments. Inviting even more sympathy from the audience, Carrie’s interactions with her abusive mother leave one stunned, and angered.

De Palma loves to play with the passage of time. Whether its panning across the girl’s locker room in slow motion, or “pressing” fast-forward through some idle conversation, De Palma alters his audience’s sense of time, and uses it to his advantage. Certainly as a means of controlling the tempo of the film, De Palma’s playful camera tactics also as a way of altering overall mood. De Palmas’ camera trickery lends a lightness to the film, and imparts a sense of teenage euphoria to the otherwise sullen film.

De Palma, King and Cohen are masters of inciting quiet rage (very much the same as what lies within Carrie’s mind) in the audience. Slowly building tension throughout the film, De Palma focuses on Carrie’s tormentors and their behind-the-scenes dealings in an attempt to emotionally teardown the helpless girl. Hardly a standard horror (I would hesitate to even label it as such), De Palma’s film plays more like a teen drama, completely void of “gotcha” scares or creepy characters. The only thing supernatural about the film is Carrie’s telekinetic abilities, which are mainly shown to break ashtrays, lightbulbs, and in one instance knock over a bicycle. De Palma uses most of this as a means to a spectacular end. Creating audience spite towards various antagonists and their accomplices all goes towards aiding in the spectacular release of energy in the final twenty minutes.

With astonishingly powerful, for horror, performances from Spacek and Laurie (both received Oscar nominations for their efforts), Carrie is a compelling and steadfast adaptation of Stephen King’s novel. A cautionary tale against pushing religion on children, with a surprisingly biblical warning against bullying, Carrie will remain in the upper echelon of the annals of horror.