MGM’s adaptation of the popular Stephen King franchise, Carrie, does not insult the intelligence of the fanbase that cemented its cinematic prestige. Episode 1, appropriately titled “First Period,” begins with the end. Sue Snell behind a camera, the subject of an investigation, one to which we all know the cause. Fitting for a Flannagan flick.

“We were all just kids,” a distressed Snell says. 

Carrie’s neighbor even attests meeting a precarious albeit God-fearing kindergarten-age Carrie. She recalls a hail of rocks raining only over the White household after Mrs. White dragged young Carrie away from the sexually active teen. She tried to rationalize the strange occurrence to no avail.

Following the death of her father, a social worker who finds the surviving White family pushes Carrie and Margaret White to enter the domain of public civilization–Carrie starting public school as a sophomore, and Margaret starting work for the first time in 15 years. 

Carrie’s naivete does not come across as socially awkward as it does perceptive, such as when she identifies a classmate named Brooke might be Chris’ sister (she will, in fact, be Chris’s step sister). 

After a harrowing first day in her first public school that leaves the lead shaken up by an absurdly realistic active shooter drill, Carrie becomes the target of Chris’ fascination, already hypervisible by her unique sense of fashion and unfamiliarity with modern-day norms and technology.

Margaret confronts Principal Grayle in Carrie’s defense, demonstrating characteristic paranoia disguised as a protective coat of female empowerment. She is a sharp shooter, unlike previous representations of the character. A miserable Carrie acknowledges to her mom how ill-prepared she felt for public school, seeking sympathy. Carrie’s solution to fitting in: making a new outfit.

Carrie starts to hallucinate her late father, while Chris and Sue bond over their Duke University acceptances. Chris’ father, however, amidst expensive marital woes with Chris’ mom, derails Christine’s collegiate plans, the inciting incident behind her infamous fate. 

Does it feel derivative, lined up with the 2002 rager, directed by David Carons? Yes. Also, by the end of the episode, when Christine Hargenson declares that Carrie “plug it up” after the eponymous lead publicly discovers her period in the girls locker room, which, coupled by the humiliating phone recording of the incident, not only remains a rip-off of the 2013 adaptation starring Chloe Grace Moretz, but consistent with the book and 1976 Sissy Spacek-led classic. 

Moreover, while this rendition of the franchise may at first fall into the trappings of a broken record–or, rather a song on loop in this generation’s terms–its refreshing take on the 50-year-long scream queen offers one takeaway the 2013 version could not: an indie appeal. 

Mike Flannagan’s take does not cater to fan service as the 2013 version had; like house music, it samples both from its source material as well as its millennial successors. Instead, he relies heavily on several longtime screen collaborators–Samantha Sloyan, who plays a surprisingly digestible take on Mrs. White, and has worked with Flannagan dating back to the 2016 independent horror flick, Hush; Rahul Kahli, who not only plays a teacher at Carrie’s school but also tracks a history with the director. 

Another mainstream attraction one would think could distract from the story and yet landed perfectly centered came with horror veteran Matthew Lilliard’s casting as Principal Grayle, who teeters on equal parts sympathetic and cowardly. 

The episode ends with flash forwards of the town ablaze, the known victims, and the prom queen we still associate with the imagery of a blood-stained ingenue.

Just as I fell in love with the setup, I must offer my flowers to lead actress, Summer H. Howell, who is no stranger to horror herself, having initiated her acting chops in Don Mancini’s 2013 Curse of Chucky, and reprised her role in 2017’s Cult of Chucky. 

Rating: 7/10