As we creep ever closer to the epic slice of retribution that closes out the book of Carrie, we find the penultimate episode finally starting us fully on the road to arguably horror fiction’s greatest prom. It’s been an especially twisty road, that’s taken in a fair amount of additional turns that’s both helped and hindered the path to that iconic climax, but now that the doomed school dance is in sight, you can’t help but feel that tension rising.
But as we witness all the players gradually converge on Ewen High’s gym on the most magical night of the year, I cant help but feel an extra pang of nerves. Despite trusting Mike Flanagan utterly, I can’t help but fret that this take on Stephen King’s most heart wrenching tale is going to deviate where it counts. Maybe I just need to shut the hell up, go with the flow and try to put past versions behind me – so it helps that “Romantic Literature” makes it far easier to do by being a taunt, layered march toward teenage devastation.
In the aftermath of the riot that tore through the grounds of Ewen High, everyone gradually is making steps to rectify the damage. With the prom looming, the debate kicks back about whether or not the event should even go ahead. Unsurprisingly, a big voice against the prom is Margaret White, who recently has been living under the telekinetic thumb of her abnormally enpowered daughter. Pleading with those present to cancel everything, she’s ultimately outdone by her own daughter, who gives her own impassioned speech that wins over the vote of the students and parents present. Of course, Carrie has her own reasons to want the prom to go ahead despite only being a sophmore, because she’s been asked to go by Sue Snell’s ex-boyfriend, Tommy Ross, who has been fascinated by her kindness all along.
However, while Carrie teaches herself to dance and whips herself up a prom dress far nicer than the once made by Molly Ringwald in Pretty In Pink, dark forces continue to plot against her. Utterly terrified by the powers brazenly being exhibited by her daughter, Margaret seeks the help of Amanda, the mother of an astral projector, who seems to have found a second life hunting powered people down, but even Margaret balks at the idea of murdering her own daughter. Elsewhere, the downfall of Chris Hargensen is finally complete after her father has been arrested for embezzling his law firm and after getting kicked out from school and having to move in with her boyfriend, Billy Nolan, rhe former shoe-in for prom queen vows payback when she discovers the event is still going ahead. Making Carrie the focal point of her rage, she sets up a trap that sees her ensure that the former recluse wins the title of Prom Queen and promptly dunks a bucket of pig’s blood on her from the rafters during the coronation. But little does she know that sealed the potential doom of both her and everyone at the prom when Carrie telekinetic’s outrage finally cuts loose…
Finally the time has come for the prom queen celebration that rocked a genre. I’ve been fairly vocal about how unsure I’ve been about some of the choices this reboot has made when it comes to the way some of the classic story beats have been altered, but from here on in I’m genuinely locked in. From the opening moments where we see the initial aftermath of the riot and the subsequent arrest of Chris Hargensen’s father (yay!) and the volentary resignation of student counsellor Morton (boo!), to that iconic, blood splattered moment, the majority of “Romantic Literature” proves to bring together story threads, both old and new, together in a way that feels incredibly organic. While the path that takes Carrie to that fateful spot under that spiteful bucket of blood isn’t exactly the same as in the book or other versions, it hues close enough to what we already know while allowing Flanagan to deliver some of that embellishing he’s getting so good at.
Some it reeks of season 2-itis, such as the introduction of Katee Sackhoff’s powers hunting Amanda, who not only advises Margaret to put her own child down (she suggests poison works best, although a gun could work), but also shows up at that fateful prom too. Also suggesting that things may not go exactly as King once wrote it, is the uninvited appearance of a couple of members of that cult we saw way back during episode 1 (which includes Fall Of The House Of Usher’s Ruth Codd) who also crash the event; but we’ll discover how much they’re going to change things soon enough. However, right now, Flanagan ensures that the final strands of the story come together in order to make everyone’s decisions seem relatable and real and – as usual – the best results come from the polar opposites of Carrie and Chris.
Essentially switching places, Carrie now lives in a world of hope now that all that online bullying is in the past and she even describes it to Tommy as being even to breathe again. But at home, she’s calling the shots now, using her powers to forcibly silence her mother and even lock her in the repentance cupboard as was done to her. Have those powers gone to Carrie’s head? Actually, no – not yet at least. She’s still the remarkably kind, empathetic girl she always was, but the embracing of her abilities has emboldened her in ways that seemingly hasn’t corrupted her. On the flip side, Hargensen has seemingly sunk into a hell of her own making. Still unable to take any accountability for her sins, Chris now blames Carrie for the way her life has gone and with her father in jail and her stubbon nature keeping her from relying on her mother, the poisoning influence of bad boy Billy leads her to take her fateful revenge.
While the actual setting up of that infamous prank is far less contrived than, say, Brian De Palma’s version (no clumsy string to yank here), it’s streamlined nature is no less agonising to anticipate, especially when everyone, from the well-meaning Tommy to the far too late Sue, unknowingly play their parts in putting Carrie White on thar stage. It’s worth the wait too, as Summer H. Howell manages to easily match the blazing outrage of that blood soaked, wide-eyed glare before Flanagan cheekily cuts to black and screams and destruction fills the screen while the credits roll. It’s King, it’s Flanagan, and it’s undoubtedly Carrie and while I haven’t always supported the routes some of the characters have taken to get here, the show nails the big moments with gusto. Flanagan’s has spared no narrative expenses building up this world, fingers crossed he keeps it up when tearing it apart.
The most traumatic prom in cinema history kicks off without a hitch thanks to some deft storytelling that gives everyone a genuine reason to be there. After spending seven whole episodes with this cast of people and getting to understand them throughout their faults and virtues, we’re about to see a sizable cross section of them violently torn apart. It’s gonna be emotionally and physically brutal – and I can’t fucking wait.
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Where to watch Carrie – Season 1, Episode 7: Romantic Literature: