Carrie

I’m pretty sure I don’t need to say that Stephen King’s first novel was already made into a movie nearly four decades ago (if you didn’t know that, well, it was). So seeing it adapted again arouses that eye-rolling “not another remake” feeling we get all too often. But actually giving the picture that label would be a mistake.

It’s the same story—a bullied high school girl discovers she has telekinetic powers—with all the same major plot points. But director Kimberly Peirce’s adaptation takes a different approach to the narrative in several ways. For one, it’s obviously been updated from the 1970s to the present day. As such, the cars and fashion aren’t distractingly dated, and a camera phone and viral video come into play in the infamous gym shower menstruation scene. The film also offers some more spectacular demonstrations of the title character’s power, thanks to modern effects. And beyond the aesthetics, the tone and characterization are drastically different. Not for the better, unfortunately.

Chloë Grace Moretz’s Carrie White is not the waifish, almost creature-like outcast of King’s original story. Nor is she so spiritually beaten down by her religious fanatic mother (played here by Julianne Moore) that even when she discovers her powers, she only meekly pushes back. From the start, Moretz is a much more assured Carrie, less submissive recipient of abuse than loving child trying desperately to care for her mentally ill mother. When she uses her powers against Moore, it seems out of exasperation, not revenge. To her credit, Moretz plays this role well, and it might have been heartwarming in a different movie about mental illness. Here, though, it doesn’t fit, because no matter what Moore does onscreen—and she’s much more unstable than previous depictions, abusing herself as well as her daughter—she never seems like a strong antagonist because her daughter still loves her. She arouses more pity than hatred.

That’s Carrie at home. At school, aside from telekinesis, she seems like a rather normal high schooler. Shy and socially awkward perhaps, but still pretty well-adjusted (the shower scene notwithstanding). Considering the amount of bullying she’s subjected to, it’s entirely understandable that she’s so introverted. The cast of meaner students creates a believably hostile school environment, pointlessly cruel just for its own sake, not based on some clichéd Hollywood system of cliques versus other cliques or people who are different. It’s almost a little too cruel to swallow, as some of the abuse lobbed Carrie’s way seems rather exaggerated. Then again, the aforementioned added technological element in one scene conjures up thoughts of real cyberbullying cases from today’s headlines (though the movie doesn’t really try to say much on this issue, just utilizes it for effect).

After dealing with all that for much of the picture’s runtime, there is some base, bloody satisfaction when the film gets to the famous climax on prom night (although diehard horror fans might be disappointed that the gore factor is nothing too eye-popping). Up until that point (and during it, really), the picture isn’t very scary. I’m not saying that because I already knew what happens, but because it’s more of a high school drama than a horror flick. In addition to the aforementioned bully stuff, there are all the soapy, schmaltzy montages of people getting ready for the prom, and the pervading feeling that it’s the biggest moment of everyone’s life. Not only does this jarringly contrast with the darker elements, and even some of the meaner tormenting Carrie suffers, but it supersedes them. When the movie ended, I felt like the prevailing sentiment wasn’t a shaken feeling from the carnage, or fear after a dark, supernatural experience, or even sadness at the tragedy of Carrie’s story. No, it was the overhyped sensation so many teen movies bestow on the senior prom. I didn’t particularly buy into that even when I was in high school, and it certainly wasn’t what I was looking for from something purported to be a horror movie.

At best, this Carrie is merely a high school revenge fantasy. King’s book and Brian De Palm’s screen version both had that element as well, but they were also very good horror stories. This tale is better told that way.