Heyo! Check out the fourth excerpt from our perfect and belligerently fantastic monster survival guide. We’re going to be releasing pages all October in honor of Halloween, and if you’re feeling fancy, you can see the first page in the guide right here.
Carrie is kind of a weird story. On the one hand, it’s loaded up with telekinetic murder and revenge, two things that I’m a pretty big fan of. But on the other, it’s got these preposterously unrealistic plot elements that bug the crap out of me. First off, in the movie, you’ve got Sissy Spacek, a moderately attractive babe, playing Carrie. I’m going to assume that most of our readers have been through enough high school to know that there is no amount of weird a hot blond chick can bring to make herself totally friendless. I mean, I guess it’s possible, like if said hottie could only talk through vomiting or insisted she was the reincarnation of Abraham Lincoln, then she might not have any friends (excluding any Abraham Lincoln fetishists in the student body of course). But I think we can agree that in the film Carrie isn’t showing that degree of weird, so her “milkshake should be bring the boys to the yard,” as they used to say way back, and not buckets of pigs’ blood and total social isolation.
The other thing is, and this is more of a complaint about the story as a whole instead of just the movie, is that the plot mechanics that depend on the cruelty of other students are just too hard to believe. I get teasing a girl who has her first period in gym class (though the whole maxi-pad beatdown seems kind of weird), and I imagine voting someone prom queen as a joke happens once and a while, but dumping a huge bucket of pigs’ blood on a girl in the middle of prom? I went to school with some real scumbags, as I imagine we all did, and I still can’t see anyone actually being that cruel. It’s such an implausibly horrible thing that it really ruins immersion in the story. Sort of like if instead of the hunters shooting Bambi’s mom off-camera, we watched them punch her to death for 45 minutes.
Man that’s an awful image to end a blog post on.