Editorials
The Power of Identity and Queer Liberation in ‘Carrie’
“Come to your closet.”
“No.”
The scene in which Carrie White defiantly challenges the oppressive nature of her mother in the 1976 film has sparked satisfaction and triumph within me since I was a young boy. Before I could consciously identify concepts like theme and symbolism in media, Carrie was a magnetic force to a pivotal aspect of who I was—an inherent queerness that, whether I knew it or not, was setting me apart from my peers, and causing me to feel insecure. The subconscious link that I felt stems from the most important aspect of Carrie’s characterization: self-discovery, and claiming agency over her identity.
Carrie, in its original novelization and many film adaptations, transcends simply being the vengeance tale of a bullied misfit. Stephen King admits in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft that the inspiration for Carrie came to him courtesy of two classmates he attended high school with. He describes the relentless bullying that the girls were subjected to daily—more than silly teasing, but incessant hatred due to their upbringings, how they behaved, and how they dressed. Rationalizing the root of the mistreatment, he describes how one of the victims, whom he calls Dodie, “was everything that [his classmates] were afraid of.” Despite Dodie’s attempts at changing her clothes to fit in, the bullying continued because, “Her peers had no intention of letting her out of the box they’d put her in; she was punished for even trying to break free.” King states that he pitied both the girls, and their classmates—that the entire situation seemed to stem from the insecurity that is often prevalent in youth.
Given the inspiration, it’s clear that the foundation of Carrie is built upon the complex debacle that is coming of age and learning about larger societal issues and norms. In a way, Carrie’s bullies are just as lost as she is. Sue Snell, disillusioned with her privilege and whether or not she deserves all of the benefits that it entails, implores Tommy Ross to take Carrie to the prom in an effort to make reparations for her behavior, yet still feels unsatisfied. Chris Hargensen, physically and emotionally abused by her boyfriend Billy, unfoundedly channels her resentment into seeking revenge against Carrie. In an ironic twist, the character who seems to find the most resolve and self-determination is Carrie—particularly when she begins flexing her supernatural abilities. This journey of the outcast owning the aspect of herself that sets her apart has a natural appeal to a queer viewer in the context of heteronormativity.
In the film, Carrie takes initiative by exploring the origin of the strange events that seem to surround her. There is a clear arc of self-acceptance that, in retrospect, I identified significantly with in the film as a closeted gay child. At first, Carrie stares at her own reflection in her bedroom mirror with a fearful expression, causing it to shatter and alluding to the fact that she is unhappy with herself, and the circumstances that she has been forced into. When her mother, Margaret, proceeds to her room to investigate the noise, Carrie quickly uses her power to reassemble the mirror, with the shot slowly focusing on the portrait of Jesus Christ looming disapprovingly behind her in the broken shards. Carrie’s complex relationship with religion stems from Margaret’s religious fanaticism. Margaret has raised Carrie to believe that Satan is constantly lurking in the shadows trying to deceive and manipulate her.
A shift occurs when Carrie finally finds a descriptor for herself at the library: telekinesis (in the novel, she terms her ability as the act of FLEXING). From this point on, everything changes: Carrie begins to command her ability, leading to the pivotal confrontation between she and Margaret. Carrie essentially has a coming-out moment, admitting that Tommy Ross has asked her to the prom, and subsequently demonstrating the newfound control she has over her telekinetic abilities by slamming all of the windows shut in the house.
The scene seems almost explicitly queer: Margaret, distraught with her daughter’s abnormality, directs Carrie to lock herself in the closet and repent. When Carrie refuses, Margaret denounces her powers as being derived from Satan, and implores her to no longer use them. Watching the scene now, I hear echoes in my mind from teachers and classmates at my Catholic school, claiming that homosexual acts are “sinful” and against God’s teachings. I hear friends telling me that it would be safer if I stayed in the closet, and the buzz-phrase, “It’s okay if you’re gay, but you need to pray on it and never act on it.”
Despite her mother’s condemnations, Carrie stands firm. Leaning on the edge of a shelf, framed as though she is sitting in a confessional booth, Carrie proclaims that her power has nothing to do with Satan, that she isn’t the only one to have telekinetic abilities, and that Margaret can no longer control her. The scene is both tragic and empowering. It reflects a harsh reality that many queer people experience when coming out to people they care about. Despite her mother’s unaccepting attitude, Carrie finally possesses the terminology to defend her identity and stand up for herself.
I can’t help but see my own journey of self-acceptance through this arc as well. Growing up, knowing that there was something about me that was different, I was constantly force-fed the idea that homosexuality was sinful in the Catholic school setting I grew up in. I was taught from my peers that words like “queer” and “gay” were insults, synonymous with being called “stupid” or “idiotic”, before knowing that they were even descriptors for same-sex attraction. When I finally began to realize that aspect of myself, I had to reclaim those descriptors for myself. When I did, I felt a sense of power behind my identity, similar to Carrie claiming her power when she finally had a word to find an identity in. I began to distance the word “homosexuality” from being immoral and wrong, to instead, a natural aspect of who I am.
Carrie is a timeless story for me, and I can’t help but connect it to the personal journey I took in accepting my queerness. In his memoir, Stephen King says that one of the most important things he learned in writing Carrie is that “the writer’s original perception of a character or characters may be as erroneous as the reader’s.” I doubt that King’s intention when writing his debut novel in the 70s was to create a heroine empowering specifically for queer people, yet I’m sure that’s what Carrie is for me, and many other queer folks who grew up with the story, whether they realize it or not.
Found footage movies rely on immersion and a particular kind of suspension of disbelief in order to scare viewers, so it stands to reason that playing along with the “kayfabe” of it all is necessary for these movies to be effective. However, despite being something of a purist when it comes to in-universe recordings, I’ve come to accept that traditional productions can benefit from the occasional injection of found footage thrills.
For instance, Kane Parsons’ Backrooms adaptation makes genius use of the analog gimmick in order to trap us in the titular rooms alongside our main characters before effortlessly switching back to a more cinematic language. In honor of these dynamic films that manage to combine the best of both worlds, today I’d like to share six other hybrid horror movies that successfully incorporate found footage into their scares!
For the purposes of this list, “hybrid” horror movies are defined as any flick that shifts between diegetic recordings and traditional filming techniques for a significant amount of time (or at least for pivotal scenes).
As usual, don’t forget to comment below with your own hybrid favorites if you think a particularly freaky one was missed.
With that out of the way, onto the list!
5. The Last Broadcast (1998)
Internet critics may have overstated the influence that Stefan Avalos and Lance Weiler’s The Last Broadcast had on The Blair Witch Project, but the found footage subgenre still owes a huge debt to this underrated piece of avant-garde filmmaking. However, while the movie sets itself up as a documentary about the disappearance of a group of cryptid-hunters attempting to track down the Jersey Devil, things take a darker and much more grounded turn towards the final act.
I won’t get into details in order to avoid spoilers, but suffice to say that the jarring shift in perspective actually helps to sell the idea that everything we’ve seen before the finale was an attempt at using filmmaking to manipulate the public perception of a “real” incident.
Not bad for a movie with a $900 budget!
4. Cam (2018)
When you consider just how much the internet affects our daily lives, it’s strange that we don’t see Screenlife elements pop up in more movies these days. For instance, Isa Mazzei & Daniel Goldhaber’s highly underrated Cam only works as a freaky parable about online sex-work because it masterfully balances Madeline Brewer’s intimate moments with highly immersive segments within cyberspace.
While one might argue that the entire film could have been produced as a Screenlife experience, the hybrid approach allows the filmmakers to explore our main character’s life beyond the screens – with the duality of modern human existence actually becoming a recurring theme in the story.
3. Banshee Chapter (2013)
Most of H.P. Lovecraft’s popular stories were told in the epistolary format (where the text is presented as an in-universe compilation of letters or personal notes), so it makes sense that a spiritually faithful adaptation of his work would incorporate elements from the modern-day equivalent to epistolary fiction – found footage!
That’s why Blair Erickson’s Banshee Chapter is such an effective scare-fest, as this hybrid adaptation of From Beyond -retold through a conspiratorial lens as it references MK-Ultra and even secretive numbers stations- immerses viewers in a mind-bending tapestry of Cosmic Horror that blurs the line between fiction and reality.
2. The Deep House (2019)
The underwater setting does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury’s The Deep House, with the film being especially uncomfortable if you’re already scared of tight spaces and being deprived of oxygen. However, even the universally unsettling elements of the flick only work because the POV often shifts into claustrophobic footage courtesy of our main characters’ GoPro cameras.
Telling the story of a couple of YouTubers who encounter a haunted house at the bottom of an artificial lake while vacationing in France, The Deep House’s first-person exploration sequences contain some of the film’s scariest moments. In fact, I’d argue that the movie didn’t even need ghosts, as becoming trapped in the titular House already sounds like a fate worse than death.
1. Behind The Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006)
My personal favorite instance of filmmakers successfully managing to combine traditional cinematography with POV filmmaking, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon, is proof that the two formats can co-exist if the right story comes along.
After all, what better way to conclude a mockumentary all about reality getting increasingly more cinematic than by ditching the found footage gimmick altogether during the finale? Not only does this shift in presentation work on a conceptual level, but it also elevates Behind The Mask into a proper Slasher, which is probably why we’re so excited for that long-overdue sequel!
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