Editorials
If You Watch One Episode of ‘Two Sentence Horror Stories’, Make It “Tutorial”
Two Sentence Horror Stories gets creative and puts its best foot forward in a makeup tutorial gone wrong that’s very much worth your time. For real.
Anthology horror series have never been more popular, but in an age where The Twilight Zone is back and kicking, there needs to be a higher standard set for episodic anthology horror. The CW’s announcement that they’d be getting into the anthology game could turn out to be incredibly fruitful for the young adult horror audience. That being said, there were some reservations in place over the news of Two Sentence Horror Stories, a series that almost seems counter-intuitive in nature since the whole point of the original viral sensation was to get in and out rapidly. It’d be one thing to turn these two-sentence stories into short films (which was originally what happened on CW Seed), but half-hour adaptations leave a lot of room for error.
In theory, some of these two-sentence writing prompts could inspire a great story with depth, but largely the results have been harmless, yet disposable fodder. However, last week’s episode, “Tutorial”, turned out to be a very satisfying endeavor that provides a sliver of hope for this series and what it could become. If there’s one episode of Two Sentence Horror Stories that you need to check out, it’s definitely this one.
Other installments of Two Sentence Horror Stories have played around with evergreen terrors like ghosts, evil children, and sinister brainwashing, but they’ve all been stories that play out through a standard narrative with a basic structure that doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel. The premise of turning a dozen odd words into an episode of television is enough of a feat. What immediately makes “Tutorial” such a standout episode is that it does go further and finds a clever device to center its story around. On paper, this plot is nothing special: Karine (Aleyse Shannon), a vlogger, conducts a makeup tutorial while an intruder sneaks into her house. What helps make “Tutorial” shine is that the entire episode is presented like a YouTube makeup tutorial video that’s comprised completely of stationary camera setups.
There have been an increasing number of horror films that have played around with the idea that the “computer is the camera.” Missing, Windows, and the Unfriended films have all found inventive takes on this concept, but “Tutorial” triumphs by how it goes one step beyond and filters the story through a makeup tutorial. Director Tayarisha Poe and writer C.S. McMullen, both relative newcomers to horror, turn this into an opportunity to get the most out of shot composition and framing. It’s a highly planned piece, in spite of how it’s designed to look so off the cuff.
Poe also fills the episode with the typical visual flair, filters, and patterns that pollute YouTube videos. Aesthetically, this is nothing new for the genre (2016’s Nerve does a ton with this, in spite of how it’s not exactly horror), but it helps complete the image and push its message as far as possible. At a certain point, the silly visual touches intermingle with grisly reality and form a seamless product that comments on the dangers of sensationalism and desensitizing audiences.
Due to the nature of the episode, “Tutorial” largely plays out as one big monologue to the audience as Karine addresses the camera. This can be super hard to sell and make compelling, but Aleyse Shannon really delivers here as the vlogger in peril. It’s such a gradual, believable transformation that Karine undergoes as she shifts from beauty queen to scream queen. Beyond Shannon’s performance, “Tutorial” is actually unnerving and feels creepy. The episode builds tension during the calm of the tutorial, and then lets loose when the intruder lurks in the shadows and evades Karine. It’s a lot of fun to watch this dark tutorial transpire in juxtaposition to the cute one that starts the episode. Perhaps best of all, there’s a very satisfying ending here that’s worth seeing for yourself.
“Tutorial” ultimately pushes a message about how the taste of fame is worth whatever the cost to some and that the lines have been so blurred in society that murderers are simultaneously celebrities. It’s hardly an original concept for horror, but it’s one that’s incredibly relevant at the moment and hammered in even harder through the innocuous nature of the video. This isn’t someone live-streaming a torture via Twitch, it’s a makeup tutorial on YouTube. Unfortunately, it’s easy to picture something like this actually happening and the audience being numb or oblivious to what’s actually going on. “Tutorial” impressively taps into that free-floating fear and moral bankruptcy that’s becoming tolerated. This powerful message and the creative way in which it’s brought to life makes “Tutorial” easily the most worthwhile and the only must-watch installment of Two Sentence Horror Stories so far.
Tayarisha Poe has one more installment, “Little Monsters,” set for this season, so we’ll see if the same magic can be conjured there or if “Tutorial” remains Two Sentence Horror Stories’ high point.
Five decades ago, Stephen King published the story of a bullied girl with telekinetic powers and forever changed the world of horror.
Carrie follows a high school misfit who seeks revenge for a hideous prank by psychically destroying her senior prom. The name Carrie White has become synonymous with the concept of a formal dance thanks to a flawless adaptation from Brian De Palma. Now fifty years after the film’s release, Mike Flanagan is putting his own stamp on the troubling story.
Rather than a feature film, the writer/director will expand King’s relatively slim debut novel into an eight-episode miniseries for Amazon Prime set to premiere on October 7.
Flanagan is no stranger to the world of Stephen King. A long-time Constant Reader, he first made waves with his daring adaptation of Gerald’s Game (2017), a novel many fans considered un-filmable. His underrated Doctor Sleep merges the disparate plot of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining with King’s original source material, and his 2024 genre-bending tearjerker The Life of Chuck faithfully executes one of the author’s most metaphysical novellas.
He’s currently mired in pre-production for an expansive adaptation of The Dark Tower series, keystone to King’s connected universe, and Warner Bros. recently announced that Flanagan will helm a new version of The Mist, King’s 1980 novella which sees a small Maine town overrun by otherworldly monsters.
Considering the vast array of the author’s previously unadapted material, an obvious question arises. Why reimagine Carrie in 2026? Noting the timeless nature of the content, Flanagan expressed his desire to bring the story of a bullied girl into modern times, mirroring his approach to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. He explained, “The only way to approach it was to build something new out of the ingredients of Carrie. Otherwise, there’s really no purpose in trying to retread ground that’s been so beautifully walked before.”
His miniseries will maintain the novel’s bloody bookends while delivering “big surprises” along the way.
A New Prom Night Nightmare
The roughly 60-second teaser introduces Summer H. Howell as Carrie White just before the moment of catastrophe. Standing in a prom dress, she smiles at her applauding classmates with an ominous crown perched upon her head. Moments later, Carrie unleashes a rage-filled scream into the night air while promgoers rush for the exit doors. But careful examination of this scene shows Carrie wearing a different, albeit dirty dress as she seems to telekinetically punish her peers.
In an exclusive first look with Entertainment Weekly, Flanagan explains that in his version of the story, “the events of that prom are going to be completely different.” An open trunk emitting a crimson glow does hint at the pig’s blood dumped on Carrie’s head, but it’s likely Flanagan’s formal dance will be a different kind of horror altogether. Despite these changes, the series may end with the widespread destruction outlined in the source material. Unlike any previous adaptations, King’s novel ends with the near-total destruction of Chamberlain, Maine. A flaming street in Flanagan’s trailer promises similar carnage no matter what prank sparks Carrie’s deadly revenge.
The Monstrous Addition of Social Media
On the opposite end of this fiery conclusion is an extreme act of bullying that brings together the story’s main cast. King’s novel begins as Carrie gets her first period while showering in the girls’ locker room. Completely unaware of the concept of menstruation, the sheltered girl thinks she’s bleeding to death. Her classmates respond with vitriolic rage. Led by ultra-mean girl Chris Hargensen (Alison Thornton), they mock the terrified teen while pelting her with tampons. Glimpses of this disturbing event reveal that Flanagan has excised the scene’s nudity while adding a seismic update. As Carrie sobs in the shower stall, Chris and her friends film the breakdown with their phones.
Other scenes note the presence of social media, bringing King’s fifty-year-old story into the digital age.
Flanagan’s adaptation promises to explore the destructive power of social media, an often invisible entity with a potential for harm rivaling Carrie’s own powers. While King’s tormented heroine suffers in front of a small group of girls, Flanagan’s version of the incident will likely become a viral video, potentially circling the globe on social media. Similar to Katt Shea’s criminally underrated The Rage: Carrie 2, which includes elements of revenge porn exploitation, Flanagan’s modern retelling will distinguish itself by exploring the nebulous cruelty of online bullying, a force ten times more powerful than the irl pranks King first envisioned.
A Completely Reimagined White Family
In addition to modernizing these canon events, Flanagan hints at updates to Carrie’s oppressive upbringing at the hands of her mother, Margaret White (Samantha Sloyan). Dead before the novel begins, we never meet Carrie’s domineering father Ralph, known to carry a bible alongside his gun. Flanagan’s White household will be an altogether different beast. In his version of the story, Carrie and her mother have been hidden away in the unassuming home, forced out of hiding by Ralph’s unexpected death. Perhaps we will finally meet this elusive man whose shadow hangs over his wife and child. Considering the White family’s fundamentalist lifestyle, this reimagining hints at tradwife culture and a home ruled by staunch patriarchal control.
Whereas King’s Carrie has been tormented by her classmates since Kindergarten, Flanagan’s Carrie will be a wide-eyed newcomer to public school, eager to make friends and engage with her peers. We glimpse Carrie cozying up to Chris and the equally popular Sue Snell (Siena Agudong) as she navigates a new social scene. Of course, we know this kindness is part of an elaborate plot designed to lull Carrie into a false sense of camaraderie, setting up an atrocious act of public humiliation. These brief moments of feigned compassion put Sue’s own complicity into question. Will Flanagan’s version of the character find the courage to defend Carrie from vicious bullies or will she succumb to peer pressure and join in the mob mentality?
Perhaps the biggest deviation from King’s original text is the relationship between Carrie and her mother. King’s Margaret White is a horrifically abusive religious zealot whose worldview has been hardened by internalized misogyny. She shames Carrie for menstruating, locks her in a closet to “pray,” and regrets not killing her child in infancy. She’s also responsible for Carrie’s social ostracization. Known to berate her neighbors for their “sins,” Margaret forces her daughter to live by an extreme code of conduct and disallows any potential friends lest they corrupt the girl with their worldly ways.
Flanagan’s version of the character is perhaps just as much a victim as Carrie herself. Also trapped inside her home, his Margaret is overly vigilant, her own trauma manifesting as strict control. Describing a more sympathetic depiction of the iconic villain, Flanagan explains, “Our Margaret White is a woman who fiercely loves her daughter and wants to protect her from this world … [She] doesn’t know how to do that and thinks the way to protect her is to close her off; not punitively, but to create this private utopia.”
Despite this potential softening, Sloyan’s Margaret may still have a sharp edge. Though she has appeared in many Flanagan projects, from Hush (2016) to The Fall of the House of Usher (2023), she is best known for her role as the abhorrent Bev Keane in the poignant saga Midnight Mass (2021). Perhaps inspired by King’s Margaret White, Bev is pious and sadistic, willing to punish anyone who does not adhere to her warped approximation of Catholicism.
Flanagan specifically wrote Margaret with Sloyan in mind, likely remembering the actress’s eerie ability to create deceptive empathy and shift our allegiances on a dime.
Expanding Stephen King’s Telekinetic Universe
While most of King’s story deals with an unthinkable prom night in Chamberlain, Maine, large sections of the semi-epistolary novel see experts debating the nature of telekinesis. Do Carrie’s frightening abilities represent a new phase in human evolution or is the prom night carnage merely a fluke? King settles the debate with a shocking denouement in which a young mother recounts her infant daughter’s ability to dangle her crib toys in midair. We’re left to wonder if she will become another tormented girl who surprises the world with metaphysical strength.
Flanagan plans to build out this brief scene while amplifying themes of female empowerment. After introducing our main cast of characters, episode two will open with an unrelated story in which we meet another girl with the TK gene. Each subsequent chapter will expand this world, building out a roster of telekinetic young women. Considering King’s fondness for stories about powerful kids, often described as possessing “the shining,” Constant Readers will no doubt have their eyes peeled for various Easter Eggs nodding to the author’s vast catalogue.
Giving Carrie Her Own Voice
Perhaps the most striking distinction in Flanagan’s new trailer is the extent to which we hear Carrie’s voice. The sneak peek is fully narrated by the titular prom queen as she demands accountability. “I want to know why,” she explains while detailing Chris’ elaborate plan. Aside from the aforementioned coda, King’s book essentially ends with the aftermath of the prom night tragedy, leaving little time for Carrie to reflect. His shifting narrative does bring the reader into her fragile mind, though not before she’s been cowed by relentless cruelty. We watch Carrie sink into bloodthirsty revenge, but never hear a considered desire for justice or repair.
Flanagan’s original monologue allows Carrie to voice her pain and mourn the life she could have had. We’re also treated to a mug shot-style photo of Chris with a bruised and bandaged face, implying that the mean girl will have to answer for her senseless sadism.
Flanagan is known for filling his series adaptations with heartwrenching speeches that cut to the heart of his thematic intentions, and this teaser seems to follow suit. After years of fans, critics, and scholars analyzing Carrie’s pain, perhaps his modern retelling will offer the titular anti-hero a chance to finally speak for herself.
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