Those entirely unfamiliar with the 1976 Brian De Palma classic, the made-for-TV movie, or yes, the stage musical will likely find some merit in Kimberly Peirce’s version of Carrie, starring Chloë Grace Moretz in the title role. Everyone else will find this remake so disappointingly similar to the other adaptations as to question the need for its existence.
As originally told in the Stephen King novel, Carrie is the daughter of single mother Margaret (Julianne Moore), a dowdy Bible-thumper extremist who will dote on her “little girl” in one breath, and in the next punish her for an imagined transgression by locking her in a “prayer closet.” Margaret is so afraid of the pervasiveness of sin she home-schools Carrie until forced by the state to place her into the public system. Having been left unsocialized by her mother for most of her childhood, Carrie is an extreme wallflower in high school—chum to the sharks of teenage girl bullies. When she gets her first period in the gym showers and freaks out, the other girls mercilessly make fun, raining feminine hygiene products on her while main antagonist Chris (Portia Doubleday) films the humiliation on her phone, and later posts it online. (The brief presence of Internet technology is the sole noticeable difference or update to the story.) This sets off a chain of events during which Carrie learns of and develops her ability to move objects with her mind, and culminates in her being invited to the prom, which of course becomes less gala and more Grand Guignol.