Carrie (2026)

Creator: Mike Flanagan
Starring: Summer H. Howell, Samantha Sloyan, Siena Agudong, Alison Thornton, Joel Oulette, Josie Totah, Arthur Conti, Thalia Dudek, Amber Midthunder, Matthew Lillard, Kate Siegel, Michael Trucco, Katee Sackhoff, Rahul Kohli, Tim Bagley, Heather Graham, Tahmoh Penikett, Crystal Balint, Danielle Klaudt, Mapuana Makia, Rowan Danielle, Naika Toussaint, Gil Bellows
Original Airdate: 2026

**This Review Contains Plot Spoilers**  

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

The first hints that Mike Flanagan's adaptation of Carrie will differ from any previous adaptation of  Stephen King's classic horror novel come right away, as the unfolding events seem to more closely resemble a true crime drama. After initially establishing itself as a modern coming-of-age teen series with scant traces of the supernatural, it's given room to ramp up, setting off tiny sparks that multiply with each episode, culminating in a full blown explosion. So even with Flanagan fumbling a bit in the closing hour, this still ranks among one of the more daring and ambitious King interpretations to hit the screen.  

A reimagining through and through, there's an immediacy and timeliness to this take that makes it uniquely accessible to fans and non-fans alike. And in capturing the spirit of the original material for seven of its eight episodes, it manages to make the familiar unrecognizable, as if reintroducing the story in an entirely new context. For those worried the paranormal elements would trip this up, it does, but for three quarters of the way through it's deftly handled, bubbling under the surface until it can't be contained. But the bigger takeaway is just how bizarrely satisfying it is to see this story modernized, highlighting themes we forgot existed and can now be viewed through a different lens.

While it's tempting to roll your eyes at the idea of a rebooted Carrie featuring a plot so reliant on social media and cyberbullying, it's better viewed as the creative conduit that continues what King started. It's also a collision of worlds as the author's traditional horror is jarringly transported into a new setting that reflects the conflict of an ostracized girl fighting to escape the controlling grip of a fanatical parent. What Flanagan does is shocking and surreal, expanding this fictional universe to depict the toll these events have on a community that stretches beyond its title character.

When construction worker Ralph White (Tahmoh Penikett) dies in an on site accident, the police and social workers who arrive at his residence to conduct a welfare check are surprised to discover wife Margaret (Samantha Sloyan) and teen daughter Carrie (Summer H. Howell) hiding in the closet. As a condition for retaining custody of the homeschooled Carrie, Margaret is informed her daughter must now attend the local Ewen High School while she maintains employment at the town grocery store. A shy, awkward shut-in who's rarely been exposed the outside world or interacted with anyone her age, it isn't long before Carrie attracts the wrong kind of attention at school. 

Popular classmate Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) attempts to befriend Carrie but resident mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton) rallies her bully squad to toss tampons at the petrified new girl in the locker room shower as she's having her period. With the girls livestreaming the incident on their phones, a cruel Chris takes things even further, impersonating Carrie on social media by creating the Instagram account "CarrieRed," which takes aim at Carrie before also targeting other students and faculty with incriminating videos.

While Principal Grayle (Matthew Lillard) ineffectively attempts to brush this problem under the rug, Chris pretends to befriend Carrie, who's just starting to discover her telekinetic powers. But as an overprotective Margaret remains determined to shield her daughter from reality, Carrie learns to embrace her powers, leading to potentially disastrous consequences.

It's sort of a relief that on Carrie's first day of school the series doesn't go the obvious route of having everyone stare as if she's the biggest freak they've ever encountered in their lives. Instead, they see this strangely dressed, socially challenged new girl who looks and acts like a baby deer in headlights, which of course establishes her as an immediate target. 

The series also gets its easiest metaphor out of the way early with an active shooter drill that terrifies Carrie and gives us our first major glimpse into Margaret's religious zealotry when she marches into Grayle's office. Lillard is great as the spineless administrator who waves away every problem until it spirals out of control. As a result, Grayle gets hit from all sides in his attempts to appease everyone at once, resulting in the rest of the faculty paying the price.  

Carrie's most endearing qualities are her naïveté and innocent, childlike curiosity. Unfortunately, both equal doom at school and home, with much of that blame lying at the feet of mother Margaret, who Samantha Sloyan expertly plays in a scary yet entirely human performance filled with desperate moments of reflection and regret. And yet the character's also a selfish monster whose unwavering rigidness remains the root of Carrie's problems, leaving her wholly unprepared for the abuse she faces. 

For Margaret, everything's a giant "I told you so," remaining oblivious to the fact her daughter's upbringing helped cause this catastrophe. That Carrie's forbidden from going outside, not permitted to read anything but the bible, can't have friends, isn't aware of school shootings and doesn't recognize when she's having her period means all make for a rough assimilation process. 

One of the most rewarding aspects of Summer H. Howell's lead turn is how open and willing her Carrie is to learn about all of that, regardless of what Margaret thinks. Howell also gives you the sense this girl's almost somewhat grateful that the awful school experience since it brings her a step closer to the normal life she's dreamed about. A childhood out of reach now seems closer than before, if only because she's finally around those her own age and exposed to what they are. The few flashbacks we see of paranoid patriarch Ralph White paint a grim picture of how Carrie and Margaret ended up like this, with the latter trying to pick up where he left off in "protecting" their daughter.

Carrie gets some support at school, whether that's from caring and knowledgeable guidance counselor Peter Morton (Tim Bagley) or concerned phys ed teacher Miss Desjardin (Amber Midthunder), a new arrival still learning the ropes from English teacher Seth Piest (Rahul Kohli). While Carrie's only true friend is self described outcast Emaline (Thalia Dudek), the popular but diplomatic Sue is put in a precarious position by knowing Carrie's treatment is wrong, yet wielding enough influence over her friends to possibly stop it. 

If nothing else, Sue tries, with Siena Agudong doing justice to a character whose empathy for Carrie and palpable disappointment in best friend Chris will eventually reaches a boiling point. But while Sue and kind hearted boyfriend Tommy (Joel Oulette) provide the story's moral compass, Chris serves as its ethically empty black hole. And what a performance from Alison Thornton as the merciless bully whose deep seeded self hatred manifests itself in the worst of ways, making every minute of screen time Chris shares with Carrie painfully uncomfortable to watch. 

Thornton plays Chris as rotten to her core, but not without some hope for redemption. She's also completely lost, with a home life miserable enough to take it out on the world. A verbally abusive criminal father (Michael Trucco) and a mom (Heather Graham) who moved on function as reasons rather than excuses. And now that Chris may soon have a new stepdad (Gil Bellows), his daughter Brooklyn (Rowan Danielle) becomes her latest target, making it even clearer which parent she takes after. 

Chris flies off the deep end after hooking up with sociopathic new boyfriend Billy (Arthur Conti), dismissing all of Sue's concerns. The brilliance in Thornton's performance comes in moments where quick flashes of recognition and remorse are glimpsed just beneath Chris' angry, resting bitch face, only to disappear when she doubles down again, overwhelmed by worsening family issues. Complex and multidimensional, we hate the character while still sympathizing with her, hoping against hope for a turnaround. But no matter how many chances Chris gets, she just can't let it go, continuously causing herself the most damage by refusing to utter the two simple words that would make this all go away. 

When Carrie needs serious adult intervention, Margaret can't help but become the type of ubiquitously awful social media presence she claims to despise. And for someone who can't stop preaching about modern technology's ills, she seems to have no problem fully embracing that when it benefits her. But with Carrie in full control of her powers, their roles soon reverse, as a suddenly desperate Margaret realizes she's no longer calling the shots in this household. She also discovers something else, which results in an unwelcome sub-plot that partially robs Carrie of her agency in the final episode. 

In hindsight, Flanagan should have just called it quits when the pig's blood falls since every hour before it was a near-masterpiece. All he had to do was follow through with that vision and finish what King started. Instead, we get a development that feels more like something you'd see in X-Men or Stranger Things, undermining much of what made the series' opening flash forward so compelling. 

Having already proven his mettle as the master King adapter with Doctor Sleep and 2024's transcendent The Life of Chuck, Flanagan was entrusted with material that ranks alongside The Shining and It as the author's most respected work. If DePalma's definitive 1976 version already did it justice, the botched 2013 reboot added nothing other than concern for this latest attempt, which bares little resemblance to either beyond its basic framework. And though a couple of our worries are realized at the very end, it's still an incredible effort as a whole.  

There are many instances during these eight episodes where you actually have to remind yourself you're watching Carrie, if only because it takes the story so much further than expected. Prior to its polarizing aftermath, we're busy wondering how much more these characters can endure, until remembering hurt people hurt people, with their methods and motivations continuing to evolve and catch everyone else off guard. Flanagan's plan only shows holes at the finish line when he abandons King's playbook, possibly setting Amazon up to expand this "universe" in a second season. But given the high body count we're left with with, it may take some imagination to envision what a clean slate looks like.