Relevant Shlock

Sequels are rarely more random and less asked-for than The Rage: Carrie 2. Arriving 23 years after Brian De Palma’s masterpiece, its existence no doubt inspired the same sort of derision now reserved for remakes and reboots:  why would anyone even bother with something like this? It’s a fair question, and I’m not sure the film has a solid answer for exploiting and leeching onto the Carrie mythos. However, I can argue that—with that misstep aside—The Rage actually has its heart in the right place in an attempt to expand upon the core themes of King’s story. Maybe it does so while dressed in gauche, “kewl” late-90s digs, but this film is more of an actual update than the attempts that followed. 

After being wrested away from her schizophrenic mother as a child, Rachel Lang (Emily Bergl) has grown up in foster care to become a jaded, disaffected teen. One of her parents only cares to have her around for the support check, and high school is a social minefield lined with predatory jocks and sneering preps. When her best friend Lisa (Mena Suvari) glowingly reveals she lost her virginity, triumph turns to tragedy as it’s exposed a member of the football team (Zachery Ty Bryan) only plucked her innocence as part of an elaborate, sick game among a pack of shitty bros. Lisa’s subsequent suicide awakens Rachel’s latent telekinetic abilities, which makes navigating high school even more difficult, especially once the lone softhearted jock (Jason London) begins to court her.

One of the first things you notice about Carrie 2 is, yes, how dated it is:  Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails posters adorn lockers, kids have conversations about Garbage and Shirley Manson, and much of the fashions are very much late-90s goth chic. The last vestiges of grunge echo in the distance, with the aughts looming on the horizon in the form of gaudy cell phones. There is little doubt that this film is more dated than its predecessor, despite the latter being twice as old.  One of the most terrifying things this film has to offer is the existential shudder of a generation witnessing something vaguely resembling their high school years unfolding in terms of a distant past.

The absolute most horrifying thing about Carrie 2 is how relevant it still is. Inspired by the exploits of The Spur Posse, a real-life group of early 90s high school students who used a points system in their sexual conquests, the film sheds light on the destructiveness of such a toxic climate. The boys—many of whom slept with underage girls—were arrested but never charged since their encounters were deemed consensual. Dismissed as another case of “boys being boys” and capitalizing on a system that rewards athletic privilege while slut-shaming its victims, the episode is a stark reminder of how society continues to unevenly frame sexual decorum along gender lines.

The Rage especially captures this infuriating, systemic injustice: as is the case in Carrie, a parent exercises legal pull, only this time it’s actually effective. Days after a girl’s suicide, the boy who pushed her to the brink is on the football field; imagine if Chris Hargensen had actually been able to attend the prom. In some ways, this sequel is actually more attuned to a sickening culture that perpetuates itself with the likes of Steubenville and its ilk. Bullying is one thing, but a system that looks the other way and allows it to happen is even more revolting. Coincidentally, two of this film’s cast members (Suvari and Eddie Kaye Thomas) would also star in American Pie in 1999, a romanticized ideal of the high school virginity quest; The Rage is its more realistic (telekinesis notwithstanding) gothic B-side.

Granted, Carrie 2 explores this in the schlockiest way imaginable and sticks to a familiar formula, to boot. This sequel largely retraces the steps of its predecessor, so much so that it’s compelled to directly connect itself to the first film. Amy Irving returns as Sue Snell, now coincidentally the guidance counselor at Rachel’s school, putting her in the Desjardin/Collins role as the only adult who gives a damn. While tenuous, this connection works well enough to justify the film’s subtitle, at least, and is much more organic than a later, more predictable attempt to connect Rachel and Carrie’s lineage.

With the exception of these diversions, the film otherwise walks a rather straight path through the formula: Rachel is convinced that she’s been accepted by the “in crowd” and invited to a social event (in this case, a house party), only to discover she’s the victim of a prank (the football goons broadcast a sex tape, another awfully prescient story development). 

Of course, all hell breaks loose once the trap is sprung. As we know, hell hath no fury like a telekinetic teen scorned, and whatever thoughtfulness the film had is buried under buckets of blood or burned away by flames (but, like, real flames, at least—actual people are set on fire with some spectacular stunt work, which is more than can be said about the last two Carrie films). If the film has any grip at all on De Palma’s tone, it quickly loses it here starting with the musical transition to the massacre, where nu-metal riffs collide with Piper Laurie’s famous “they’re all going to laugh at you” line in an unholy union that might’ve anticipated dubstep. 

By the time Rachel sports a supernatural barbed wire Henna tattoo, you’ve moved from sympathizing with her to reveling in her destruction, and your inner-goth delights in watching a bunch of dumb jocks die in horrible fashion.  The climax of The Rage is like the climax of Inglourious Basterds for anyone who was marginalized in high school.  To her credit, director Katt Shea stages this carnage impressively, even if the Grand Guignol trappings feel more exploitative than in the original film: impalements, decapitations, a brutal drowning, and, hell, even the raddest death-via-CD-flinging this side of Hellraiser III await. At least there’s some imagination on display as Carrie 2 plunges headlong into splatter movie territory.

Once it’s thoroughly soaked in blood and guts, and has lamely attempted to re-create the original’s final chair-jumper, it becomes more difficult to mount a truly impassioned defense for The Rage as a worthy sequel.  If it were simply a standalone movie, you have to wonder if we’d regard it like the knock-offs Carrie inspired in the 70s.  Would Bergl’s Rachel Lang be in the same class as the title characters from Jennifer or The Initiation of Sarah?  Latching onto the White family tree is a disservice, especially since Bergl represents a different take on the archetype: where many of her predecessors are notably awkward outcasts, she’s an assertive, defiant badass before she decides to slaughter her classmates.  

It just so happens that she can’t live up to the family name—but, then again, it’s not like anyone else since has been able to, either. Unlike those efforts, Carrie 2 at least tries to articulate something—you just have to kindly accept that it sounds like something you’d read in a term paper written by a high school sophomore who spent a lot of time at Hot Topic.

Note: The Rage: Carrie 2 arrives on Blu-ray courtesy of Scream Factory on April 14th as part of a double feature pairing it with the 2002 television remake.  It features a commentary with Shea, an alternate ending, deleted scenes, and a theatrical trailer as supplements. 

Brett Gallman is a member of the Online Film Critics Society.  He was raised in and around video stores and hasn’t stopped talking about horror movies ever since.  You can find him on Twitter @brettgallman.

 

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