CARRIE (2026) – A Promising Reimaging That Loses Its Way
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Stephen King’s Carrie has been adapted for the screen no fewer than three times, with the original 1976 film arguably remaining the most successful and memorable of them all. Directed by Brian De Palma, the film not only became a landmark in the horror genre but also propelled Sissy Spacek to stardom with her haunting portrayal of the troubled titular character.
So, when yet another adaptation arrives, this time in the form of an eight-episode miniseries, it is difficult not to approach it with a certain sense of déjà vu, perhaps even a degree of weariness. After all, Carrie’s tragic tale of teenage cruelty, religious fanaticism and telekinetic vengeance is already familiar territory, and one cannot help but wonder what more there is to be said about a story that has been told on screen so many times.
However, the involvement of Mike Flanagan as the creator and director immediately elevates this latest adaptation into must-watch territory. Flanagan has established himself as a master craftsman of horror, demonstrating a remarkable ability to combine supernatural terror with deeply human stories. Works such as Midnight Mass, The Fall of the House of Usher and Gerald’s Game have showcased his talent for exploring the psychological and emotional complexities of his characters while building an atmosphere of mounting dread.
With such a pedigree behind the project, the prospect of revisiting Carrie becomes considerably more intriguing. Rather than simply rehashing a familiar story, the real question is whether Flanagan can bring a fresh perspective to Stephen King’s material, delve deeper into its characters and themes, and breathe new life into a tale whose tragic conclusion is already etched into popular culture. Flanagan does this through his decision is to set the story in the present day, allow him to cleverly incorporate modern technology and contemporary social and cultural changes into both the narrative and the world in which it unfolds. Mobile phones, surveillance cameras, social media and the ever-present threat of school violence all feature prominently, giving the story a more immediate and unsettling relevance to our times. These are not merely cosmetic updates to a familiar tale; they help reinforce the themes of bullying, humiliation and the devastating consequences of cruelty in an age where personal torment can be captured, shared and amplified far beyond the school corridors.
Just as impressive is Summer H. Howell’s performance as Carrie White. From the outset, it becomes apparent that she is exceptionally well cast in the titular role. Howell brings a remarkable sensitivity and vulnerability to Carrie, capturing the character’s awkwardness, emotional fragility and desperate longing for acceptance. There is an underlying sadness to her portrayal that makes Carrie more than just a victim destined for a catastrophic outburst. It is a performance that demands both emotional restraint and intensity, and Howell handles the role with considerable conviction. Indeed, her sensitive and compelling portrayal is arguably the series’ greatest strength, carrying the narrative through its eight episodes and ensuring that Carrie remains a character we can empathise with, even as her story moves inexorably towards its tragic conclusion.
Unfortunately, the initial enthusiasm generated by the early episodes gradually began to wane as the series progressed. The eight-episode format, which would have offered the opportunity to explore the story and its characters in greater depth, eventually became something of a liability. The repeated episodes of bullying and humiliation began to feel increasingly redundant, with diminishing returns as the narrative unfolded. Rather than building towards a greater emotional impact, these scenes often felt as though they were treading familiar ground, and the series would have benefited considerably from some judicious editing to maintain its momentum.
But the biggest disappointment comes with the much-anticipated final act. Given the story’s infamous reputation and the promise of a more expansive retelling, one would expect the climax to be the moment when Flanagan unleashes the full horror and devastating consequences of Carrie’s telekinetic rage. Instead, the final episode appears more preoccupied with laying the groundwork for a potential new franchise or an expanded Stephen King universe. Precious screen time that could have been devoted to delivering a more satisfying and emotionally devastating conclusion is instead diverted towards what feels suspiciously like an attempt to set up further instalments.
This is particularly frustrating because Carrie is a story that works best on its own terms. Its power lies in the tragedy of one deeply damaged young girl pushed beyond her limits by the cruelty of those around her and the suffocating influence of her mother. The horror is rooted in the inevitability of her downfall, and the devastating consequences that follow. Attempting to turn this self-contained tragedy into a launching pad for a larger universe of characters with similar telekinetic abilities risks diluting the very qualities that make the original story so compelling. What should have been a fitting culmination to Carrie’s tragic journey instead feels like a calculated attempt to establish a franchise.
It is a shame, because there is much to admire about Flanagan’s adaptation, from its contemporary setting to Summer H. Howell’s sensitive and compelling performance. Yet, by allowing franchise-building ambitions to intrude upon the story’s climax, the series undermines much of the goodwill it has painstakingly built up. What could have been an excellent and definitive reimagining of Stephen King’s classic ultimately becomes a frustratingly compromised affair, leaving us with the nagging feeling that a stronger, more focused adaptation was within reach.
