Carrie (1976): A Film Review

Pig’s blood seeps into every corner of the screen in this cinematic haze of slow dancing and high school hierarchy directed by Brian De Palma. An adaptation of the novel by Stephen King, this film encapsulates the already unsettling essence of being an adolescent at the bottom of the social food chain.

Carrie White (Sissy Spacek) is introduced through a rather vulnerable lens against a backdrop of  shower steam and nudity as she navigates her first menstruation; crimson fingertips plead for help in a scene of high emotional intensity. As the title suggests, the protagonist is a looming presence,  woven throughout the plot. Spacek upholds this in the most haunting sense throughout, both in  terms of line delivery and overall performance. Her talents intertwine seamlessly alongside the  theological disputes with mother Margaret White (Piper Laurie). A scarcity in maternal instinct  echoes between each icy syllable of biblical recitation. The visible contrast between Carrie’s  relationship with her mother and her gym teacher is upheld by Miss Collins (Betty Buckley). Unlike Laurie, Buckley assumes the position of an unofficial guardian, a gentler and amiable presence  in her student’s troubled storyline.  

It is unfortunate that, although Carrie was originally a narrative piece that drove its rich plot to pave the way for an explosive conclusion, the director’s inability to bind the plot together becomes apparent in a bothersome sense. Instead, we are presented with a decaying sequence of  events which seem to have been eaten away by insects of slight negligence. The audience are  involuntarily left to decipher the true intentions of Tommy Ross (William Kate) and Sue Snell  (Amy Irving). Though I understand that the focal point of Carrie’s journey is her internal battle  between the supernatural and identity, it cannot be denied that this left a cryptic aftertaste upon a  dizzying view of the two teenagers on the dance floor.

Many visual productions of this era already exude a somewhat uncanny aura as a result of the  grainy colour palette of each shot alongside the use of film cameras. When placing this particular  horror narrative against the above skeletal structure of visual art in the 1970s, the result is unconventionally perfect. The camera pans on our young protagonist’s jagged reflection through shards of her bedroom mirror as she meticulously grooms herself prior to prom. The juxtaposition between the aforementioned and the initial destruction of the mirror is tastefully compiled.  Religious iconography peppers the house which, coupled with the set design for the claustrophobic ‘prayer room’ underscores the notion of Carrie’s world slowly but surely consuming her.

This 1976 rendition would go on to ignite a domino effect of later adaptations. Though some branches of the story felt open-ended, Brian De Palma must be recognised for his attention to detail on this project as well as his capabilities in nurturing a time capsule for today’s audience. It is undeniably nostalgic in the most effortless way.