The Rage: Carrie 2 review

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Let's get one thing straight: Brian De Palma's screen adaptation of Stephen King's novel Carrie was among the best supernatural shockers of the last few decades. While being deeply chilling and bowel-movingly tense, it's also an agonisingly emotional piece. Bearing this in mind, we could string you along with suggestions as to what elements a sequel would need to survive in the imposing shadow of the original, and then let you down with the news that it contains none of them. But why bother? To even imply that there's anything of worth in The Rage would be like promising a small child a Dreamcast for Christmas, then sending it a crusty old cat turd in a cardboard box.

The Rage desperately wants to be a '90s update of a '70s classic. It wants to recreate the agony of Carrie White for a whole new generation, while cashing in on the teen-boom of the last 12 months. And it is this fatal misunderstanding which kills the movie dead before it even stumbles past the opening credits. Carrie wasn't about a period in time, it was about a period in adolescence (pardon the pun),and left any sequel very little new ground to cover.

What would have been a very average horror flick is reduced to an abhorrent monstrosity when it tries to compare itself to De Palma's masterful original. Don't let us catch you even thinking about watching this.

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