Editorials
Ranking All Five Films in ‘The Purge’ Franchise, From Worst to Best
Back in 2013, James DeMonaco introduced America to a (hopefully) exaggerated cinematic dystopia where citizens are allowed to indulge their darkest sins for twelve hours—welcome to the annual “Purge.” We spend the entirety of DeMonaco’s The Purge trapped inside with masked intruders trying to spread lawless violence unto a gated community where privileged upper crusters, including Ethan Hawke, “celebrate” in private fortresses. It’s a Blumhouse production, one that reportedly only had 19 days on a $2.7 million budget. Where the franchise begins makes sense, but its evolution is where Purge night becomes more about the regulated universe, the New Founding Fathers, and the death of any “American Dream” as it no longer exists.
It’s an uneven journey since DeMonaco’s screenplays—and as an extension, his incumbent directors on the backend—don’t even acknowledge the concept of subtlety. These movies are of the exploitation mindset for better or worse, where points hammer home like a slug planted between your eyes. When containment tightens its grip, there’s political satire by the ten-gallon hat and worthwhile frustration as a vocal rallying cry. Other times, the entire anarchistic assault aspect washes thematic expressions in spilled blood as a means to showing those same frustrations but without more staying power than a graphic display of what could be in a different timeline. A gunshot rings out, and the barrel smoke spells “commentary.”
Let’s take a look at the entire Purge franchise as a whole and address how each ranks against one another in terms of the Purge reaching its full conceptual potential.
5) The First Purge
Gerard McMurray steps in to direct the Staten Island introduction of Purge activities, which becomes an indictment of Trump’s presidency in real-time. It’s overboard as headline Trump quotes that dominated Twitter timelines become scathing dialogue (rightfully), when the answer for overpopulation becomes targeting minority communities with a chance to thin the next census count. It’s all overtly rage-fueled with the shortest fuse imaginable but runs into the same issue listed about exploitation being more than showing the horridness filmmakers seek to condemn. To quote my previous review, “Unfiltered anger erupts without warning, but it takes precedence over storytelling, continuity, and other filmmaking aspects.”
Worse off, its technical shine almost seems unfinished at points. Messy green screen background blending and disorienting camera dirtiness during close-ups are a bit tough to ignore. Cinematography becomes beholden to “Horror 101” tricks, and despite a true trendsetting maniac in “Skeletor,” McMurray’s focus on action as Staten Island rebels against “The Experiment” is a starkly contrasted departure. These messages aren’t hidden, nor should they be—it’s all just lacking the calibration to deliver exploitation that strikes for an artery cleanly. Lunges are with maximum effort yet lost within boil-overs that become far more about the stances taken than altogether cohesion.
4) The Purge: Election Year
If you’ve caught on, I’ve mentioned the subtlety of DeMonaco’s writing style throughout the franchise being an incalculable wild card—The Purge: Election Year becomes an example of exploitation gone too wild. DeMonaco strives to make a statement against gun violence while repeatedly failing to separate the action elements from intended messages. As a result, what began as a white-knuckled nightmare (Hawke’s home-invasion defense) devolves into this brightly lit, diamond-studded excuse for violence, vulgar satire, and Frank Grillo stompin’ faces. It’s a malicious midnighter down to Miley Cyrus’ “Party In The USA” blaring over loudspeakers as ravers bask in the Purge’s glorious splattershot outrage (reign it in).
The grandest red flags are a script that cranks the dial on crude dialogue and racial biases as a method of highlighting evil, and yet, I still remember people cheering in the theater during moments that confirmed intent was not clear. When I felt horrified, the common moviegoer could never see beyond flawed messages that rely too heavily on the carnage, the Trumpisms, and the darkest timeline our history could adopt on-screen. These vulgarities are supposed to prove a point—a point that’s dulled and lost as the mania of “Purge Night” takes hold of the New Founding Fathers’ decaying nation. DeMonaco’s aggression here is chaotically admirable if I’m honest but equally misguided—that’s the biggest issue.
3) The Purge: Anarchy
Any film starring Frank Grillo will catch the attention of action fans, and The Purge: Anarchy fulfills those adrenaline junkie desires. Specifically, there’s an ‘80s action swagger as Grillo’s hero takes to the streets in his armor-plated Dodge Charger as a white knight in these Purgified times (with a quest for vengeance). DeMonaco aims at “rich vs. poor” divides as monetary preparation for Purge festivities puts Grillo at a disadvantage, even more so his assembled crew. It’s a bit of an actioner retread that stitches together bullets-and-punches until The Running Man influences sneak into frame, which no doubt disappoints some horror fans.
Michael K. Williams’ Carmello as this rebellious ringleader instigating an uprising is straight out of The Warriors. It’s a whiplash experience watching The Purge and The Purge: Anarchy back-to-back, and I do wish the story wasn’t as cobbled together in a filler sense. Still? The film runs on Grillo’s leathery ass-kicker bravado, and those who can suspend their desire to be scared senseless will approve those Escape From New York thrills (to a much lesser degree, no contest). Not what Purge lovers might have asked for, but that‘s why we judge the films we get—not the ones we desire.
2) The Purge
As an introduction to a more significant idea, I do believe The Purge kickstarts excitement. Ethan Hawke and Lena Headey are undoubtedly the headlining draws, playing socialites who become targets when the perfectly casted Rhys Wakefield appears at their doorstep security camera praising the healing power of Purge punishment. It’s never a tremendously clever reinterpretation of home invasion limits—character motivations and decisions elicit groans from audiences I’ve been sitting around—but does play dangerously within its confines. We never need that push into a raging America outside the classist introduction of Purge blueprints.
There are some wild moments packed into the opportunistic funny games, as Wakefield’s masked clan uses prosperously preppy costuming to drive the increasingly toxic nature of patriotism. It starts with overcrowding in prisons, rising crime rates, skyrocketing unemployment rates as a means to the Purge, and how that unleashes the beast inside specific individuals. Without getting any more complications involved, The Purge stays compartmentalized and pressurized with enough firepower to execute on its means. It’s the proper foundation if you’re into DeMonaco’s apocalyptic Americana screenplays.
1) The Forever Purge
Everardo Gout helms the current franchise capper in The Forever Purge, a film that comes with an unshakable hint of catharsis. It’s as insistently unsubtle as the rest, but after four years listening to a governmental contingency spew hateful rhetoric that makes the New Founding Fathers seem far more realistically illustrated? Gout angles his Purge experience towards action beats as marauders attempt to “cleanse” America of its open border problems, imaging a world where the Purge is year-round by force. It’s one thing when these Purge films were farther-flung figments of the imagination—the last four years of hatred changed all that.
Ana de la Reguera and Tenoch Huerta lead an ensemble that works in the context of DeMonaco’s border commentary. A story that starts with two Mexican immigrants crossing into Texas becomes an inverse of what has once been an American ideal of acceptance and welcomeness. It’s also telling when Gout allows violence to become extreme and who these acts brutalize the most. In an exploitation exercise, this is important because deaths and bloodshed are visual signatures. As much as these moments can detract from the lasting impact of underlying themes, they can also help boost those same words. Also? Kudos to Will Patton’s stances—Purge monologues that nail the franchise’s growth.
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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