
Save this story Save Story Save this story This story contains spoilers for various adaptations of Carrie , including the 2026 version.
“The movie made the book, and the book made me.” That’s long been 79-year-old Stephen King ’s stance on Carrie , the 1976 Brian De Palma film and the ’74 debut novel from whence it came. And in the 50 years since De Palma's version premiered, Hollywood has never stopped making Carrie .
This week, a half-century after Sissy Spacek brought history’s No. 1 vengeful telekinetic prom queen to life, the fourth screen adaptation of Carrie hit streaming. Writer/director/editor Mike Flanagan ( The Haunting of Hill House ) spends eight compelling episodes bringing Carrietta White into modern times. Vicious and empathetic, the Amazon Prime Video series also paints on a much bigger canvas than its predecessors, roping in the entire school and community. At this point, Flanagan is the reigning adapter of Stephen King, having done Gerald’s Game in 2017, the Shining sequel Doctor Sleep in 2019, and The Life of Chuck last year—bangers, each and every one. He’s developing a new TV-and-film adaptation of King’s magnum opus, the Dark Tower series, and is remaking The Mist.
Flanagan’s sprawling new Carrie is easily the best since De Palma’s 98-minute romp, which nabbed Oscar noms for Spacek and Piper Laurie (as the fanatically abusive Margaret White.) In the intervening years, Carrie was re-imagined as a 2002 TV movie with a script by Hannibal creator Bryan Fuller, then a 2013 film from Boys Don’t Cry director Kimberly Peirce. Angela Bettis and Chloë Grace Moretz (the first actual teenager to play the role) gave us two very different iterations of Carrietta in those films, which were subpar but not without merit—every adaptation has cornered a few superlatives, which brings us to today’s presentation.
We’re here to distribute hyperspecific awards among each Carrie —1986, 2002, 2013, and 2026. When the winners come from Flanagan’s new offering starring Summer H. Howell, we won’t say much, opting to leave you the pleasure of discovering it for yourself. Unofficial sequel The Rage: Carrie 2 will go unconsidered, for the same reasons we don't permit discussion of A Return to Salem's Lot or Firestarter Rekindled in polite society—the term derivative work is generous in these instances, and The Carries are about excellence.
Everett Collection Oscars-wise, it’s Sissy Spacek with six nods and one win, for Coal Miner’s Daughter in 1981. Julianne Moore, who played Margaret White in the 2013 version, has one Oscar (Best Actress for 2015's Still Alice ) and five noms. They’ve both won three Golden Globes, but Moore boasts 11 nods to Spacek’s seven.
Warner Bros./Everett Collection None of the four filmmakers who’ve delivered a Carrie take—De Palma, Flanagan, Peirce in 2013, David Carson in ’02—have won (or been nominated for) any of the majors. So going strictly by IMDb’s encyclopedic tallying of film festival honors, genre awards, guild recognition, etc., it’s Flanagan with a whopping 41 career wins and 37 noms. De Palma’s got 16 and 30. The Scarface auteur has , however, directed three actors to Oscar-nominated performances—Spacek and Piper Laurie in Carrie , and Sean Connery ’s victorious turn in 1987’s The Untouchables .
TORONTO, ONTARIO - SEPTEMBER 06: (L-R) Stephen King and Mike Flanagan attends the premiere of "The Life of Chuck" during the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival at Princess of Wales Theatre on September 06, 2024 in Toronto, Ontario. (Photo by Mathew Tsang/Getty Images) Mathew Tsang/Getty Images Flanagan, with 11 features (and two more en route, including this fall's Clayface for DC) and six TV projects. De Palma’s got 13 features and one more in the pipeline, but no TV credits.
Everett Collection Piper Laurie in ’76. She’s in a different movie from everyone else, having taken the job assuming it was a comedic role, and wound up delivering the most memorable screen incarnation of Margaret. But 2026’s Samantha Sloyan is a close runner-up, and she easily wins if we’re going for realism.
Sony Pictures/Everett Collection 2013, water volleyball. Ewen High School’s got money in this version.
Everett Collection 1976. Between Sissy Spacek’s mortal terror and her classmates’ feral cruelty, De Palma’s take on the inciting incident is still unbearable to watch.
Betty Buckley as Miss Collins in ’76. The slap she gives Carrie to snap her out of her locker-room panic isn’t too bad, but she decks Nancy Allen's Chris Hargensen hard enough to hurt her hand. (Allen says they shot 29 slaps.)
This little demon loves to ride up and shriek “creepy Carrie, creepy Carrie.” She doesn't even know you, bro! In the 2002 Carrie , he doesn’t merely get wobbly and take a spill. Angela Bettis sends him flying 20 feet into a big, sturdy tree, possibly breaking his arm. Kid’s wearing a helmet, at least.
2002. Is network TV limited by budget? Yes. But can they nail a spooky house? They sure can.
United Artists/Everett Collection 1976. Ominous Christian imagery everywhere, spookily shadowed, that huge Last Supper tapestry over their dinner table—it’s unsurpassable. And then when it’s filled with candles and shadows for the final showdown? Cinema .
1976, featuring that glowing-eyed Jesus with bloody arrows sticking out of him. Get her out of there!
2002’s a huge comeback story here. It ill-advisedly opens with a shot of the blue sky peppered by CGI fireballs and a title card that screams “We picked the first font on the dropdown menu and called it a day.” But when we get the full flashback—in which Margaret’s discipline of a tiny Carrietta spurs the rain of destruction—it’s genuinely badass, albeit nonsensical. These are actual flaming meteors, detonating on impact while the neighborhood watches, then flees, in terror. (The book-accurate rain of stones in Flanagan’s show is very well executed.)
Robert Falconer/Courtesy of Amazon 2026’s Siena Agudong, Alison Thornton, Joel Oulette, and Amber Midthunder. Killer performances across the board, with room to breathe over the span of eight episodes—it’s a no-contest. William Katt’s Tommy in 1976 is the closest thing to a runner-up here.
Sony Pictures/Everett Collection 2013’s Alex Russell. This version of Billy is a serial killer waiting to happen. Which is fitting since Book-Billy is canonically a maniac who enjoys running down dogs with his car.
Robert Falconer/Courtesy of Amazon 2026’s Michael Trucco. A Flanagan regular, his role as Rufus Griswold in The Fall of the House of Usher took him to new heights of dickery. He’s somehow even more insidious as Chris’s lawyer dad, a godawful, gaslighting, fraudulent little fucker.
Everett Collection Sissy Spacek and William Katt in ’76. Their trip to prom starts all stilted and awkward, and suddenly they’re forming a connection you believe in.
1976, no contest. The giant factory building painted like a bucolic farm is hilariously bizarre.
Courtesy of Amazon Samantha Sloyan’s Margaret White in 2026. It helps that this is her seventh collaboration with Mike Monologueagan, and a brilliant successor to her work as Beverly Keene in Midnight Mass .
2002. Carrie simply could not stop floating furnishings all through the air, chucking ‘em out windows—she was going nuts, up to and including prom.
NBC/Everett Collection 2002. Wouldn’t have guessed that the network television version would be the one to allude most feverishly to sex, but it is. Sue says Tommy’s “been very agreeable since we started having sex,” and Angela Bettis was definitely being directed to make telekinesis look like erotic ecstasy. A douche in the library also tells Tommy that Carrie wants him to “help her to see God,” then acts out a little “I love Jesus so much it gets me off” display.
Sony Pictures/Everett Collection 2013. Refer back to the water-volleyball scene referenced above—2013 Ewen High had cash to blow. This thing looks like a prestigious gala for wealthy donors.
2026. Everybody's having an amazing time and the sequence really gets to breathe; it’s a powerful culmination after spending a bunch of episodes with these characters (and, specifically, in this gym).
1976. That spinning camera showing us only Carrie and Tommy for two unbroken minutes is dizzying in the best way.
2002. I once watched Slayer play “Raining Blood” while torrents of (presumably?) fake blood gushed down to drench the whole band. I think the Carrie TV movie used more fake blood than that. It just…keeps…coming. A deceptively capacious bucket.
2013, where they run it back three times, like Jackie Chan’s mall jump in Police Story.
1976. Pino Donaggio’s gorgeous score swelling as the rest of the sound dims, the single tear rolling down Spacek’s cheek, the slo-mo looks at our characters watching Carrie’s coronation, the dead silence after. It’s a masterpiece.
2002. Angela Bettis is the only performer to truly embody King's description of the moment Carrie opens her eyes and they’re “the only part of her that wasn't completely red.” 1976 and 2026 have their outstanding moments in the blood department, but from bucket-dump to bathtime, Bettis is the most goopily gore-streaked.
2026, for length and clarity. The shot of Spacek in the De Palma version with the stage ablaze behind her is iconic, but it’s also one second long. Flanagan & Co. take this moment to another level.
2013, when Carrië Grace Moretz—who's really enjoying the vengeance—squashes a guy between the collapsible bleachers.
2026, which pays homage to the way De Palma handled Chris Hargensen and Billy Nolan's exit, but makes it more personal and brutal.
2002. She actually drowns Carrie in the bath. (Most Cinematically Interesting Margaret White Attack, though, goes to 2026.)
1976. Fire blasting out as it sinks straight down into the ground till there’s no trace? Inspired.
Everett Collection 1976. Carrie and Momma end up in the prayer closet and we get one more glimpse of Nightmare Jesus, who's been impaled in the exact places Carrie flung blades into Margaret. As far as the house coming down around them, it’s almost ambiguous whether it's Carrie's power or divine retribution.
United Artists/Everett Collection 1976. Jump-scare hall of fame.
Everett Collection 1976. You’ve got that final sequence, you’ve got Piper Laurie hiding behind the door, and you’ve got Spacek’s alien, widest-eyes-ever demeanor at the prom.
Courtesy of Amazon 2026. 2002 is also quite bleak, but in the new one, so many characters get so terribly fucked over, and not only at prom.
2026. Subtracting credits and “previously on” intros, this thing runs about 377 minutes, or just over six hours.
Sissy Spacek and Summer H. Howell are pretty neck and neck here, so we're going to give it to Stephen King's original recipe. Book-Carrie’s interiority has never been matched, nor has the depth of her tragedy, and a physical likeness has never even been attempted. But shout out to Summer—we can't wait to see where she goes from here. (Besides further seasons of Carrie .)
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