I wonder if the series would've done better if it was a re-imagining of King's novella (not a remake of the cinematic version) wherein the characters from the original work are tapped in the supermarket and, after a few decide to flee, end up in a motel on their way to Hartford, CT (from which they received a broadcast as in the novella and the initial ending of the film) and pressed on. It could've been a whole different and better creature than Spike made with its convoluted plots about date-rape and cross-gendered teens dealing with parents. None of the characters (only one transitioned from the novella and she was quickly offed) were sympathetic. Not one. When someone got dispatched, there were only cheers of gratitude.
Sometimes it's just best to portray the characters as King has done in his works. In the various versions of Carrie, she's portrayed as a thin, fairly attractive girl. The first two were classic; the third with Chloe Moretz was a dud. However, in the novel she is a rather pudgy teen with clumps of acne (her nickname among the bullies was "puddin'"). Her mother was a fat woman with long gray hair tied in a bun and rimless glasses pressed into her pudgy face. King drew Carrie from a composite of two girls he remembered from high school. We all had a girl like that when we were in high school. Ours was a poor, tormented creature, totally friendless, taunted with the nicknames "spider" and "eagle-claw." She lived in the shadows, trying to hide as she walked the corridors between classes. We all had them; we can relate and identify; that's what makes King's characters work - we know them. Spacek, Bettis and Moretz were just too "pretty" even when they were "uglied" up. But they, despite dramatic expertise, could not portray the "Carries" we had in our schools. Our Carrie was humiliated at her high school graduation. Having no friends, she had no social skills or understanding of fashion. Our graduation was formal: evening gowns and tuxedos. She came in a pink dress (like the one in Carrie) that was too short to hide the white sweat socks and yellow shoes she wore. When her name was called for her diploma, scores hooted and howled and "spider!" and "eagle-claw!" reverberated. She moved as quickly as she could, walking with her arms swinging, her head downcast, her shoulders shrugged as someone yelled: "She looks like a monkey!" All that was missing was the bucket of blood. We all saw it in high school; cinematic versions should stick with what it was like. That's what draws our sympathy.
Gerard
