When Stephen King first published Carrie in 1974, the American high school looked very different from what it does today. Long-haired students in bell bottom jeans passed handwritten notes to each other in class or lit up in the school’s designated smoking area.
Boys often registered for vocational programs like woodworking or automotive repair while girls were likely to take typing or home economics. Unless you were on the college track, which was not a necessity to land a good job.
Adult intervention was minimal. Before the heyday of stranger danger or helicopter parents, teenagers enjoyed wide-ranging autonomy. Students walked home from school unsupervised, and hazing was an accepted part of the social hierarchy. Parents and teachers generally adopted a survival-of-the-fittest mentality and assumed teenagers would find their own way through adolescent strife.
Perhaps this is why the bullying seen in King’s debut novel feels like a relic of its time. We first meet Carrie White as she’s mocked by teachers and students alike and notice graffiti that reads, “Carrie White eats shit.” An outcast practically since birth, the shy girl doesn’t have a single friend and desperately tries to fly under the radar of her more popular classmates. The only daughter of strict fundamentalist Margaret White, she’s been raised in an ultra-religious household and prevented from keeping up with modern trends.
The Internet Turns Carrie’s Humiliation Into Public Spectacle
Though her ostracization is hardly new, the situation escalates near the end of Carrie’s senior year. When she gets her first period while showering after gym, the sheltered girl genuinely believes she is bleeding to death. Led by the popular Chris Hargensen, Carrie’s classmates begin pelting her with tampons and pads while chanting at her to “plug it up.” As punishment for this despicable prank, Chris faces suspension and refusal of her prom tickets. Along with her greaser boyfriend Billy Nolan, she retaliates by arranging for Carrie to be elected Prom Queen before dumping a bucket of pig’s blood on her head.
In the five decades since its publication, the Carrie story has become ubiquitous. She’s mentioned in connection with every school dance, and the image of a prom queen drenched in blood might be featured on a Mount Rushmore of horror villains. But it’s admittedly difficult to imagine this story happening today. With anti-bullying practices now a standard part of high school life, a student like King’s Chris would likely have been expelled long ago, and attempts would be made to protect Carrie from her abusive mother.
But writer/director Mike Flanagan has updated the story for 2026, putting a modern spin on its most upsetting elements. Rather than old-school cruelty from Chris (Alison Thornton) and her friends, most of the torment Carrie (Summer H. Howell) endures takes place on social media, thus expanding the scope of her humiliation far beyond those who happen to witness it live.
In the 1974 version of the story, Carie’s shower room shame exists in a fairly closed loop. News of her period panic may circle through the Ewen High halls, but it’s ultimately forgotten in a couple of days. It’s Chris who will not let it go, largely because she faces punishment. But Flanagan’s version spirals out of control. Feigning an attempt to help, his Chris drags Carrie under a running shower, then orders her stunned classmates to “help out” by tossing a handful of tampons and pads.
When Everyone Becomes Part of the Mob
While certainly traumatic, what happens next is arguably worse. As Carrie sobs on the shower stall floor, Chris and her friends pull out their phones and begin recording the girl’s misery. This moment is now documented for all time and could potentially be viewed by the entire world.
As Chris’s own life begins to crumble, she takes her rage out on the naive girl. She creates an Instagram account called @carriered_ and uses a screenshot of Carrie’s face as the profile picture. Though initially private, “@carriered_” quickly gains hundreds of followers. Chris begins snapping pics of her fellow classmates and uploading them to the anonymous account. She adds horrific captions designed to maximize humiliation, targeting students for their appearance, hygiene, and sexuality.
Photographed without their consent, students find themselves viciously mocked for existing in public. The ripple effects are instantaneous. Hallway fights become a constant occurrence as secrets are revealed and trust is broken. Some students are pulled from school while others are outed to their conservative parents. When a teacher is accused of dating his students, news quickly spreads throughout the town. After weeks of relentless harassment, Mr. Peist (Rahul Kohli) dies by suicide, leaving notes that reveal a disturbing history of pedophilia and predation.
Now that smartphones have become ubiquitous, Gen Xers and Elder Millennials frequently thank our higher powers that our adolescent mistakes have been lost to time. Younger generations are becoming more savvy about what they post, aware that a damaging internet footprint can follow a person for the rest of their lives. While we are reckoning with the emotional effects of Instagram, particularly considering teenage users, Flanagan highlights a more nebulous fear, one without an easy answer.
Victims of “@carriered_” are not being teased for their own posts, but for pictures taken without their consent. They have no control over what images are uploaded to the anonymous account or the devastating captions that focus the cruelty. Each time they show their face, they risk becoming the next victim, publicly shamed for eating a large sandwich or wiping their nose in the hallway. Even worse, these candid photos could become a popular meme, infinitely reposted with fresh captions and used as a joke by millions of strangers.
Though “@carriered_” is anonymous, other students begin sending Chris their own submissions. In a disciplinary meeting, she reports that half the school has been sending her pictures, using her account as a consequence-free platform to express the cruelty they wouldn’t dare say out loud. Perhaps they are hoping to take the heat off of themselves, or, like Chris, are expressing their misplaced rage. It’s a fascinating update of the shower room scene. Again, Chris has become the ringleader, her overt cruelty providing cover for the mob to attack.
One of the more devastating elements of Flanagan’s series adaptation is the utter helplessness of the adults. Principal Grayle (Matthew Lillard) is well aware of the account, but there’s little he and the faculty can actually do. Though pictures are being taken on school grounds, social media itself is a gray area. He cannot yet prove who is running “@carriered_” and must filter through a barrage of accusations.
It’s only when Chris’s best friend Sue (Siena Agudong) captures her recorded confession that the teen finally faces punishment. But still, she refuses to take the account down, citing her right to free speech. Grayle’s only repercussion is to expel the girl, hoping to kill the snake by removing its head. But while administrators try to control the fallout, another social media villain emerges.
Margaret White Learns to Weaponize Social Media
When Margaret (Samantha Sloyan) discovers Chris’ account, she vows to fight fire with fire. Frustrated with Grayle’s ineffectiveness, the angry mother begins a smear campaign. She wanders the halls of Ewen High, whispering to everyone she passes that Chris is the creator of “@carriered_”. She again names Chris at a PTO meeting and creates her own rival account essentially dedicated to doxxing the teen. While King’s Margaret and Chris never meet, it’s fascinating to watch these two female villains go head to head, using similar tactics to punish the other, with Carrie helplessly caught in between.
Flanagan’s Margaret is perhaps the most terrifying element of the show. A conspiracy theorist and extreme conservative, she outright hates the rest of the world and has raised Carrie solely on the White property. It’s not until her husband’s death that the world even knows of her daughter’s existence. Forced to support herself by working at a big box store, Margaret openly shames women for buying vibrators while accusing mothers of poisoning their kids. She invents racist accusations about her young manager and calls her neighbor’s daughter a whore. In an echo of King’s religious fanatic, Flanagan’s Margaret clearly longs for a day when she and Carrie can retreat from the world and go back to their life of extreme isolation.
But Margaret soon gets a taste for blood when she discovers the power of social media. Determined to take Chris down, she creates a rival account called @realmaggiered — an interesting nod to another destructive Twitter account — and begins publicly shaming the teenager while begging her followers to join her crusade. In the wake of Mr. Peist’s shocking death, “@carriered_” receives national coverage, and Margaret begins sending information to local journalists, gravitating towards those who give her favorable coverage.
She leaks the time and place of a private mediation in which Grayle hopes to reach a peaceful resolution. A dangerous mob forms outside the school with protestors chanting “Death to Hargensen!” Others defend the teen as a free speech vigilante, citing the fact that she accidentally exposed a pedophile. When Chris seems poised to apologize, Margaret twists the tenterhooks. She deliberately misinterprets an attempt at reconciliation and subtly shames Chris using her mother’s own words. The smirk on Margaret’s face when Chris doubles down tells us exactly who the self-righteous mother truly is. She has stopped caring about her daughter’s pain and has become addicted to the validation social media provides.
Unfortunately, we all know where this story ends. Chris orchestrates Carrie’s Prom Night victory, then dumps a bucket of blood on her head, intending to create content that will surely go viral. Carrie practically explodes with telekinetic rage and winds up destroying half of the town. Seeking well-deserved revenge, she crushes Chris in her boyfriend’s car after finally receiving an apology. Following a tender moment back at home, Margaret tries to murder her daughter, wary of the girl’s unpredictable powers. But Carrie fights back and destroys the house, leaving her mother on the brink of death.
While King’s nightmarish story of bullying has become part of American iconography, the themes Flanagan introduces are arguably more frightening. After all, Carrie may have gotten her fiery revenge, but we are still living in a world dominated by people like Margaret and Chris. This nihilistic series presents no hope for a peaceful solution.
Carrie’s prom may be over, but our social media nightmare is still burning out of control.
