It was many more years before I finally saw the movie myself, in a rare case of a film actually surpassing the lurid legend I\u2019d built up around it in my head. De Palma\u2019s 1976 masterpiece\u00a0\u2013<\/a> now streaming on Amazon Prime<\/a>\u00a0\u2013<\/a> is positively drunk on the possibilities of the medium, a perversely thrilling dazzlement of pure cinematic technique. Adapted from Stephen King\u2019s first published novel (he was paid the princely sum of $2,500 for the movie rights, such an unknown at the time his name was spelled \u201cSteven\u201d in the trailer) the screenplay scraps the author\u2019s epistolary structure and gets right down to business with a gauzy, slow-motion girls\u2019 locker room scene of self-parodic, soft-core proportions, the lush display of nubile young flesh abruptly interrupted by a torrent of menstrual blood, bullying and shrieking strings. Bad for your marbles, indeed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The half-kidding, half-horrific nature of Carrie<\/em>\u2019s opening is emblematic of De Palma\u2019s overripe, sensuous sensibility, a naughty boy\u2019s luscious leering with just enough self-awareness to have his cake and eat it, too. Unlike so many other, less cinematically savvy exploitation filmmakers, De Palma was smart about being sleazy, always up for using gratuitous nudity as self-aware commentary on female objectification and the male gaze, while at the same time reveling in the trashy pleasures therein. (This is probably why he still makes so many critics crazy. There\u2019s a playfulness to De Palma\u2019s perversity that sends pearl-clutching Puritans straight up a wall.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n An extended break during Carrie<\/em>\u2019s pre-production period allowed enough time for the director to diagram every shot in the picture before the cameras ever rolled. It\u2019s one of his most extensively worked-out movies, a mathematical marvel of doubles, reflections and thematic rhymes. From the dueling authority figures of Carrie\u2019s scary mom (Piper Laurie) and gentle gym teacher (Betty Buckley) to the good girl and her kindhearted boyfriend (Amy Irving and William Katt) using the prom to try and make amends contrasted with Nancy Allen\u2019s bad girl and her abusive boyfriend (a Barbarino-era John Travolta) turning the same event into a literal bloodbath, with the first scene\u2019s rivulets of menses made to match the splash of pig\u2019s blood on star Sissy Spacek\u2019s alabaster skin. It\u2019s all almost academic. Or at least it would be, if it weren\u2019t so much fun to watch. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I never got mad about my cousin spelling out the entire movie for me from start to finish because the delight of Carrie<\/em> is in the anticipation. It\u2019s one of those films that even if you\u2019ve never seen it you probably already know what happens thanks to cultural osmosis. (Heck, even the movie\u2019s original poster was a giant, honking spoiler.) We start watching the movie already anxious about the prom sequence — such a prolonged derangement of expectation and release it feels almost pornographic. (Even the film itself feels in a hurry to get on with it, literally fast-forwarding through the dialogue when Katt\u2019s Tommy Ross and his buddies go tuxedo shopping.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n It’s the first of De Palma\u2019s classic cinematic set-pieces, easily on par with the Odessa Steps in The Untouchables<\/em>, Mission: Impossible<\/em>\u2019s Langley break-in or the museum seduction in Dressed To Kill<\/em>. (There\u2019s also the Cannes heist in Femme Fatale<\/em>, Scarface<\/em>\u2019s chainsaw massacre, the pool hall in Carlito\u2019s Way<\/em> and so many others I could go on all day.) From Carrie and Tommy\u2019s slow-dance upon a spinning turntable with the camera swirling around them in the opposite direction to the famous figure-eight dolly that took an entire day to shoot, every movement is a masterstroke on De Palma\u2019s part, designed to drive us crazy in anticipation. He even provides a vicarious audience surrogate in Amy Irving\u2019s Sue Snell, slowly putting everything together via POV shots just a few seconds too late. A stray piece of crepe paper gently falls from the rafters, tracing the arc of what\u2019s to come right before all hell breaks loose.\u00a0![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/04\/carrie1-1024x768.jpg\")
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