Horror is perhaps the one genre with the most number of starkly iconic images that have infiltrated the culture and become distinct representations of cinema as a whole. One of the most striking shots in the history of horror is that of a teenage girl standing on stage, covered in blood, with a blazing fire surrounding her. Without even stating the name of the film, we immediately know that this image comes from Carrie, in which Brian De Palma adapts Stephen King’s first published novel (and coincidentally making this the first film based on one of his books), which tells the story of the titular character, a high school student ostracised by her peers and forced into the role of a social pariah as a result of her demure and reserved manner and childish naivete, but who gradually discovers that she possesses supernatural powers that she gradually reveals to those who dare to threaten her or stand in her way as she pursues what she believes to be her destiny, leading to a tragic outcome for both her and the peers she decided deserved her wrath but did not understand the power she wielded. A film that has long been considered one of the greatest works of horror ever produced, coming at a very particular moment in the history of Hollywood, Carrie is a masterpiece crafted by a director whose output during the 1970s (and beyond, since he continued to reconfigure the fabric of the industry well into the present era) is truly the embodiment of ambition and pushing the artistic boundaries of a craft that benefitted from such an unconventional vision that has proven to be oddly prescient as we look at how the industry developed in the subsequent years. Revisiting this film nearly fifty years since its original release is a magnificent experience, especially when we take into account the same details that drive the story and help the director translate King’s somewhat unorthodox style of storytelling onto film, leading to an experience that has proven to be truly a magnificent work of unhinged terror that has come to reconfigure the nature of horror and how it manifested on screen for decades to come.

As a writer, King has proven to be quite divisive – he is not always consistent in the quality of his output, and some view his prolific body of work as the very epitome of quantity over quality, leading to criticisms that are sometimes difficult to argue against. However, there are aspects of his work (particularly his earlier novels) that are still quite admirable, and chief amongst them is the fact that you never need to scratch around for too long to find the message behind most of his works. Even those that appear to just be unhinged tales of dread and horror tend to have some deeper meaning, which is what compels readers to seek out his books, and why so many filmmakers have been drawn to adapting his work to the screen. Carrie is one of the more obvious examples of one of his stories having a very clear meaning, and De Palma ensures this is present from the first moment, when the image of the titular protagonist getting her first period while unfortunately in the presence of her apathetic classmates, who in turn choose to make her the subject of mockery. Carrie has always been a film appreciated as a symbol of the coming-of-age narrative, as filtered through the lens of horror – King has often made use of younger protagonists and told his stories through their eyes, so he has a penchant for recontextualizing terror by looking at the journeys of children and teenagers as they both come to terms with their journey towards maturity and the supernatural phenonema occuring around them. Carrie is a film about a young woman who is trying desperately to navigate her teenage years, but who is confronted with both mockery from her classmates and an overbearing mother whose radical religious extremism has meant that she views her daughter as a threat, especially once her powers are revealed. It’s haunting, especially for anyone who has felt like an outsider who no one understands, and De Palma makes sure to constantly underline this element as he gradually and methodically explores Carrie’s journey from victim to vengeful spirit.

Is it possible to speak about Carrie without mentioning the exceptional, star-making performance it features on behalf of Sissy Spacek? There are some actors who find their work defined by one or two roles that eventually guide their careers, whereas Spacek has resisted being shoehorned into one particular category. Following her breakthrough with Badlands a few years prior, as well as a few additional performances that established her as one of the most exciting young actors working at the time, Spacek found herself being given this role (which she was entirely committed to getting, despite other actors being courted for the part), and single-handedly making film history with one of the greatest performances to ever come out of a horror film. Despite being over a decade too old for the role (to the point where she’s only two years older than Betty Buckley, who portrays the wise and empathetic teacher that acts as a mentor to the impressionable protagonist), her gamin appearance and ability to play into the childish naivete that sits at the heart of the character being integral to the strength of the film. She’s joined by a terrific supporting cast – Piper Laurie is incredible as her overly religious mother who makes it clear that she will sacrifice her daughter for the sake of her beliefs, leading to one of the most horrifying conclusions in the history of the genre, and which both Spacek and Laurie play to absolute perfection, particularly in how they evoke the kind of abuser-victim relationship that we rarely can see shown with such stark attention to detail. The film also features a large number of young actors that would go on to do exceptional work in later years – Amy Irving, John Travolta, Nancy Allen and the aforementioned Buckley are all welcome additions to the film, especially since de Palme does veer away from Spacek on a few occasions to show these other characters, fleshing them out and making them much more than one-dimensional supporting parts. Great performances are not always mandatory for most horror films, so it’s a welcome surprise to find one in which the characterisation is put ahead of anything else, which is oddly a recurring element of many of the director’s works.

There is a sense of genuine complexity that defines Carrie and makes it such a masterful work of horror. As one of the keenest observers of genre conventions, de Palma was always going to bring something unique and original to this film, and working closely with King’s original text, he makes some innovative and exciting choices that keep us wholeheartedly engaged for the entire duration of the film. Part of this comes in how he creates an atmosphere of suspense through the most subtle but meaningful cues at first, before descending into chaos in the immediately iconic climactic scenes towards the end. The brilliance of Carrie is not only that it is unhinged and terrifying in some parts, but that it is far more layered than simply a one-dimensional work of horror, which demonstrates the director’s keen sense of awareness for how this story should manifest, which involved a balance of different tones and styles, creating a multidimensional portrait of not only the titular character and her struggles to fit in, but also a snapshot at the social conventions that governed the era and which ultimately were the source of her eventual descent into madness once pushed too far. The film is built from creating a gradually disconcerting atmosphere – the dreamlike tone persists for the first two acts, with only momentary sequences of levity that occur in between, creating a more complex blend of ideas, before everything ultimately falls apart in the third act and it becomes a truly relentless series of terrifying moments, each one more unsettling than the last. Yet, even amid the most frightening parts of the film, Carrie doesn’t lose its heart for even a moment, being as moving and exhilarating in the most horrifying moments as it is in those that are more tender, the combination of which are responsible for giving the film its reputation as one of the most daring of the period.

Carrie is an exceptional film for so many reasons, not least because of how it was made at a time when horror cinema was at a turning point, where audiences were desperately seeking new, audacious visions, and which prompted the industry to give the resources to those who demonstrated the willingness to go above and beyond to create something wholeheartedly original but also daring enough to remind viewers of the value of a solid, intriguing work of pure terror. Carrie is a fascinating work precisely because of how it contains extremely resonant elements, yet also feels entirely bespoke. The majority of that comes from how it blurs the boundaries between morality in fascinating ways – there are no pure heroes or villains in this film, and the viewer may feel the same level for sympathy for the villains as they do disdain for the more heroic characters, a kind of character-based ambiguity that makes the film such aa provocative and entertaining work. More than anything else, the film proves to have elements to which many of us can relate – the frustration of trying and failing to find your place in the world, contrasted with the feeling of isolation that many experience during our adolescent years, elevated to the point of being the foundation for a truly ambitious work that is a major contender for the best adaptation of a King novel, and one of the great horror films of the 1970s, a decade that defined the way terror manifests on screen. Carrie is a film that not only has resisted the march of time, but has shaped the way the genre functions – daring and original, while still being deeply moving and effortlessly compelling in even its most unorthodox moment, its aged remarkably well and remains the gold-standard for both King adaptations and horror cinema in general.