You know what, Hollywood? Be my guest.
When you piss on the legacies of drive-in flicks like Prom Night and April Fool’s Day and Black Christmas, it gets our panties in a collective wad because those are OUR movies. They’re misunderstood, largely ignored, and badly treated “special” children who need horror nuts like us to nurture and defend them to the mainstream – not cheap, lousy remakes to convince the masses that the originals were never any good to begin with.
But Carrie? Carrie‘s a fucking masterpiece. Do your worst, Hollywood – because the bitch in the homemade prom dress is UNTOUCHABLE.
No matter how bad the planned “truer-to-the-book” version of Carrie winds up being (or even if it’s brilliant), it will do nothing to sully the power of the original, which has been cemented in film history as one of the greatest horror movies ever made. It’s canon. And no matter what you do, you can’t dislodge canon. Hell, even The Rage: Carrie 2 and that low-rent Carrie miniseries that ran about 10 years ago – which wasn’t half-bad, all told – did nothing to besmirch the pale, luminous glory of everyone’s favorite pair of dirty pillows.
So you know what, Hollywood? Have at it. I’ll see you by the punch bowl at Springtime in Venice.