*This article contains major spoilers for Mike Flanagan’s “Carrie”*
Every girl remembers at exactly what age and where she was when she got her first period. At least, I know I do. I was 12, and it was Mother’s day. Sorry about that, Mom. We were about to leave for church when I called her into the bathroom, tears in my eyes. I knew what was happening, my mom had prepared me well. But it doesn’t make that moment, the moment you realize you’re really a woman, any less horrifying.
Though my experience with my first period was not nearly as traumatic as Carrie White’s in “Carrie”, I’ve always found myself, like many women, connected to her character and story. On the eve of my 21st birthday, a bunch of my friends and I went to see Brian DePalma’s “Carrie” (1976) at Music Box Theatre here in Chicago. I went into the film 20 years old, and came out 21. I found myself reflecting on the thematic elements of “Carrie” (1976) that I related to so deeply, especially as I got older.
All this is to say that many audience members, myself included, have been eagerly anticipating Mike Flanagan’s “Carrie” series since it was first announced. As with pretty much every Stephen King property, “Carrie” is a beloved novel. The 1976 DePalma film is just as beloved as it’s source material, if not more. Not only is the source material revered, but director Mike Flanagan also has massive crowd appeal.
Flanagan has dominated the horror space since the early 2010’s, and many consider him to be a current master of the genre. He’s most well known for his other book to show adaptation, “The Haunting of Hill House.” He has had many other smash hits, like “Midnight Mass”, “The Fall of the House of Usher”, and “The Haunting of Bly Manor.” He also thrives in the feature film space, creating modern masterpieces like “Hush” and “Gerald’s Game”, the latter being another King adaptation.
Through the years Flanagan has proven himself to the masses time and time again, and this show is no exception. It’s a solid, elevated reimagining for contemporary audiences. It’s entertaining, fast paced, and adds just enough new content that viewers already familiar with the narrative will still want to keep watching. It’s thoroughly enjoyable, from beginning to end, and will certainly become Gen Z’s definitive “Carrie” adaptation.
Summer H. Howell and Samantha Sloyan both had large shoes to fill in their roles as Carrie and Margaret, respectively, and they both do so completely. Howell brings a new innocence and curiosity to the character that makes her all the more sympathetic. Sloyan has the familiar stoicism that the role of Margaret demands. Together, they make an electric pair.
While Flanagan manages to breathe a refreshing new life into it, this reinvention of Carrie’s story still falls flat in some ways. The harshness and tragedy has been abandoned, and many of the appealing themes have essentially been wiped away, causing the show to lose a lot of its bite.
Modern day audiences have grown delicate; sensitive, cautious, and catastrophically soft. Hollywood has noticed this change, and is listening to those audience members. There’s less sex in movies, less swearing, less complex narratives that make the audience uncomfortable. Instead, studios are holding viewers’ hands as much as possible. While this adaptation elevates the story in some ways, it does sanitize it in other ways in order to appease that crowd.
Much of what makes “Carrie” an appealing story to me, as a fellow young woman, is her journey learning about her body and sexuality. Yes, we still get the iconic period shower scene in the show, but this conversation about women’s sexuality that is in the source material is generally stripped and replaced with social commentary about safety in our modern world. It’s fitting for a 21st century adaptation, but did one conversation have to be sacrificed for the other? Truthfully, the ideas coexist beautifully. Could they not have worked together in perfect harmony? There is an attempt made at discussing female sexuality through Sue’s character, but that is also fairly unsuccessful, as that plot line comes across as flat, and really feels like an after thought. Flanagan’s majority female cowriting team had a chance to finally add a much needed feminine point of view on sexuality to a story that has been told by men for decades, and the result is disappointing.
The character of Margaret White was also diluted to better suit current audiences. Much of her intense religious propaganda is erased, as well as her aggressive abuse. This adaptation makes her seem more human. Soft and sad, rather than horrifying and monstrous. I don’t believe current day crowds could appropriately process and handle the level of religious torture and disturbing abuse that is detailed in the original book. And it’s not that the show needed to embrace that level of intensity at all, but the refusal to be challenging, and the urge to make even the worst villains sympathetic, is a clear symptom of the current day audience’s need for comfortability.
Part of what makes the source material so cathartic is Carrie’s unbridled, unstoppable female rage. That’s something we rarely get to see on screen as it is, but especially not anger with such calamitous consequences like a death count. That feeling is the first thing Carrie has that is entirely real, entirely free, and entirely her own. Here, the explosive shadow that is Carrie’s anger is softened to a dull flame, and interrupted with a joyous dance sequence that is cute, but takes away the edge in that moment. The anger is a bubble under the surface – it’s there, the audience can catch a glimpse it in a few scenes, but it never rises or reveals itself entirely.
The choice to leave Carrie alive further proves that modern day viewers are unequipped to handle an untraditional ending. While it’s a pleasure getting to see Carrie truly have freedom for the first time and it’s relieving to see her finally come into her own existence, what makes the original story so striking and ultimately unforgettable is that Carrie never gets that chance, and her mother, yet again, is the one to take that away from her. Yes, the show is still tragic, but the real tragedy in the story lies in Carrie losing her life in pursuit of what she desired the most: freedom. Not just her freedom from her mother, but also her sexual freedom, religious freedom, and the freedom to exist exactly how she’d like.
It’s recognized and appreciated that keeping Carrie alive is an ending that offers the character a type of autonomy she’s never had before, and it’s one that is appropriate for modern times. We do still get to see her upset, even if it’s restrained, and we do get to see her come into her own in a way no version of the story has done before. I do wonder if this was their attempt at re-feminizing the narrative. Even so, it weakens the thematic blow that makes her story interesting to begin with. And with the way the series concludes and ties into Flanagan’s and King’s other work, I can’t help but wonder if she was kept alive simply for a second season, and not for her autonomy’s sake.
Honestly, I don’t think much of this is Flanagan’s causation. He had lots of help developing the female point of view for this show. He has many female co-writers, and many female directors, including his brilliant partner Kate Siegel. He cast strong women who understand what complexities their characters do have in this version. Every episode even begins with a glimpse at a different woman with powers similar to Carrie’s. I truly believe he’s not at fault here.
Who is at fault is us as audience members, and this show stands as a perfect example of a larger issue in Hollywood. We need to stop sanitizing narratives, and allow the uncomfortable conversations to take center stage. By taking away Carrie’s sexual exploration, softening Margaret, and taking the easier ending, the show becomes a watered down, easily digestible story that’s apt for modern audiences. Given the source material, I was hoping for some big swings and confrontational conversations. Maybe that’s just not what Flanagan wanted, and that’s okay, but for those like me who were hoping for a little more of a complicated, authentic story, it’s a bit of a let down.
Maybe this is an overly nuanced criticism of a show that is, by most standards (including mine), pretty good. But I firmly believe it’s our job as audience members to demand quality, complicated and compelling storytelling from studios. When we stop doing that, we become a part of the complacent Hollywood machine. I will continue to advocate for these types of intricate narratives, especially female ones. I’d rather make a fool of myself doing so than see us relinquish complicated storytelling completely.
Overall, for fans of King, Flanagan, the 1976 adaptation, or the horror genre in general, the show is sure to be a smash hit. The familiar charm of Carrie’s world is irresistible, and even with the issues I had, I still found myself completely roped in. With its mass appeal, it’s evident that Mike Flanagan’s “Carrie” is sure to become a Halloween classic for years to come.
Mike Flanagan’s “Carrie” is now streaming on Prime Video.
