Cover Art

Credits

Director: Brian DePalma Starring: Sissy Spacek, John Travolta, Piper Laurie, Amy Irving, William Katt, Betty Buckley, Nancy Allen Screenplay: Lawrence D. Cohen (Based on the novel by Stephen King) Music: Pino Donaggio Tagline: "If you've got a taste for terror then you've got a date with Carrie" Country: USA

Every high school has to have a loser. Wether it's the guy with too much acne, the girl who doesn't know how to dress or the film geek who couldn't get a date with either of them, high school is an unforgiving prison for those who simply can't fit in. And for those who seem to fit in too well, high school is a playground full of potential targets, victims to abuse at every opportunity. DePalma has gone to all lengths to ensure that Carrie's high school is an ugly place indeed. The twisted, contorted vision mimics teenage anxiety like John Hughes never could. Hughes could never have imagined a girl like Carrie. The misfits of, say The Breakfast Club or Pretty in Pink may have been second-class citizens in the social jungle of high school, but they always carried it well. They were begrudging and resentful of popular cliques, but, at the same time, there were comfortable assurances that came from not being one of them; the solidarity of other misfits and the sweet freedom of rebellion that it implied. Carrie has no desire to rebel and, as such, is faced with the horror of being totally unassimilable, abhorrently different. She has no comfortable assurances, no solidarity of 'us and them'. For Carrie, there is only 'them and me'.

But there is more to Carrie's isolation than just unfashionable shoes. There's her abusive mother, a drooling fundamentalist obsessed with divine retribution and rapture; a manic phobia of sin that manifests itself in revulsion at her daughter's sudden maturity, heralded by the "curse of blood". Carrie's unbearable anxieties, her loss purity and her social leprosy, are linked to a hidden telekinetic ability that's becoming increasingly powerful and uncontrollable.

Only two people at school feel any sort of compassion for Carrie; gym teacher Ms. Collins (Buckley) and fellow student Sue Snell (Irving), who attempts to rid herself of guilt following the shower incident by convincing her boyfriend, Tommy Ross (Katt), to ask Carrie to the senior prom. But queen-bitch alpha-woman, Chris Hargensen (Allen) has crueller intentions on her mind! Barred from the prom, Chris conspires with her dim-witted boyfriend, Billy Nolan (John Travolta, in a very early role) to execute a fiendish prank, finally burning all Carrie's hopes of social acceptance. Here DePalma plays with the manipulative power of women: Tommy escorts Carrie to the prom; Billy is pushed into torturing her, both under the duress of their girlfriends. Indeed, sex (gender, sexuality, femininity) is the force that drives all the characters: Carrie's realisation of her womanhood, her first menstruation, comes with a new disruptive/destructive power. Chris' sexual manipulation of Billy is underlined by the cruel self-absorption of a girl too pretty to be human(e), whereas Sue's manipulation of Tommy is a gesture to the bonds of sisterhood. Ms. Collins is the personification of the maternal absence in Carrie's life: a trusting, nurturing and loyal figure, whereas Carrie's own mother is a Freudian cocktail of hysteria and religious psycho-vomit.

Respite from her ostracised existence seems to be within Carries reach; she's going to the prom with Tommy, who seems determined to show her a good time, and her dazzling appearance in a low-cut dress is quite affecting. Carrie's mother is outraged, preaching fire and brimstone; "After the blood come the boys!" All the while Chris' plot thickens and the prom already feels tainted by conspiracy; Mrs White's last words to her daughter are ominous: "They're all going to laugh at you!"

For Carrie, the prom itself is the eye of an adolescent hurricane. Dizzy moments of awkwardness and accidental romance are articulated by DePalma with 360 degree panning shot of her and Tommy dancing. And when the final votes are counted, Carrie and Tommy are crowned prom king and queen – little do they know that Chris and Billy are hiding backstage, the final piece of their callous plan falling into position. The moments in which they ascend the stage are captured in painful slow motion, a scene that easily exceeds five minutes. It's an obvious set-up by DePalma, a deliberate suspenseful ploy, but every second of it is painfully gut-wrenching to sit through. Carrie's brief moments of triumph and acceptance are dashed in seconds, but these moments are turned into a funeral march of anguish and mortifying humiliation; each second for Carrie feels like a minute for us! This sequence is all the more poignant when nearly all the sound is muted, except a clanging bucket and the drip, drip, drip of blood splattering on the floor. Nothing can prepare you for this moment, and nothing can cushion its impact either – it is easily one of the most gruelling moments in Hollywood cinema.

At once the tone changes: Carrie stands, bug-eyed and blood-sodden, her POV a visual/aural kaleidoscope of mockery and torment. The tables soon turn: the doors slam shut, the screen tints blood-red in rage and a massacre ensues, captured from multiple angles on split screens. Carrie unleashes a telekinetic holocaust of unholy retribution; an anarchic bloodlust! Carrie's transformation from maligned social misfit, reborn in blood as avenging angel of death is a high school loser's revenge fantasy come to life.