Stephen King has a tendency to write books so epic in length that they could be used as high chairs—or bludgeons. But “Carrie,” his first novel, is one of his slimmer, simpler works.
   The story has always seemed a bit thin: Carrie White, the painfully maladjusted daughter of a hyper-religious loony, has telekinetic powers that go haywire after her classmates pull a nasty prom-night prank.
    The supremely over-the-top 1976 Brian De Palma movie, with John Travolta and Nancy Allen as the cruelest of the classmates, Piper Laurie as the psycho mom, and Sissy Spacek as the tormented Carrie, had a sensible running time of 98 minutes.
   NBC’s remake of “Carrie,” airing tonight at 8 p.m., clocks in at a whopping three hours (with commercials, of course). There’s no conceivable reason for the adaptation to be stretched out to such a length—aside from the need to fill a valuable chunk of sweeps time.
   Still, for its first two hours or so, “Carrie” is an extraordinarily well-made, compelling TV movie. The pace has been slowed down in order to milk the story for more drama (as opposed to horror)—and it succeeds perfectly.
   The script, by Bryan Fuller, captures the petty evil that adolescent girls can do to one another with chilling accuracy.
   And the story of a student being relentlessly bullied to the breaking point has far more resonance in the age of school shootings than when it was first written.
    But above all, the movie gets a genuine emotional punch from the astounding lead performance by Angela Bettis. Bettis seems to be making this sort of fragile, damaged girl into her specialty: She played a psych patient in “Girl, Interrupted” and starred as Abigail, the teen slinging accusations of witchcraft, in “The Crucible” on Broadway.
   As Carrie, she is utterly heartbreaking. When a popular jock asks her to the prom, her face manages to simultaneously register disbelief, wonder, happiness, and fear. Even when she lights up with hope, the knowledge that this might just be a cruel joke lingers in her expression.
   And when she finally rebels against her mother—“Things are gonna change around here, Mama,” she says, slamming the door shut (telekinetically, natch) to prevent Mama’s exit—she makes the moment powerful and cathartic.
   The supporting cast is generally strong. In particular, Emilie de Ravin (best known as Tess on the orgy of bad acting that was “Roswell”) brings an exuberant, radiant bitchiness to the role of lead villainess Chris, filled with consuming hatred for someone whose only crime is not fitting in.
   Still, there are some severe missteps.
   Patricia Clarkson (recently seen as hippie Aunt Sarah on “Six Feet Under”) is egregiously miscast as Carrie’s mother. She’s at her best in quiet, understated roles; here, playing someone who’s supposed to be an insane shrew, she comes off as bizarrely serene and unconvincing. She appears to be half-asleep most of the time.
    Another problem: The story is told via flashbacks, as Sue (Kandyse McClure), the well-meaning young woman who asked her boyfriend to take Carrie to the prom, relates events to a detective. Which means the narrative is frequently interrupted to cut back to the interrogation scenes, which just get in the way (and slow the film down considerably.)
    Worst of all, the final hour of the film is interminable. Tommy (Tobias Mehler), Carrie’s prom date, is portrayed as a complete lunkhead, which makes the interaction between the two entirely devoid of interest.
   And the chaotic finale fails to be remotely scary, or shocking, or emotionally involving in any way. We just get endless scenes of objects flying around and crashing and bursting into flames. A little of that goes a long way. A lot of that leads to channel surfing.
   Maybe if NBC decides to rerun “Carrie” someday, they’ll condense it a bit to fit it into a two-hour slot. It would make a perfect fit.

November 4, 2002© 2002 Media Life

-Dan Jewel is a senior editor at Biography Magazine in New York and a frequent contributor to Media Life.

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