Carrie’s (Sissy Spacek) high school bullies hatch a plan to douse her with pig’s blood on prom night in the 1976 classic they should have called Meat Girls.

Based on Stephen King’s brutal debut novel, Carrie remains one of the most singular statements on bullying ever committed to celluloid. Though Spacek bears no resemblance to the book’s “bovine” protagonist (told you it was brutal), her ethereal features make her the perfect prom scream-queen, imbuing the character with bucketloads of sweetness, sadness and boiling rage.

And yet the film has dated in a way the novel has not, thanks to Brian De Palma’s pervy direction, and a score that combines Bernard Herrmann’s Psycho with goofy easy listening music. It shows that concessions to contemporary teen audiences do not necessarily stand the test of time, in this case undercutting the modern gothic scenes between Carrie and her abusive religious mother (a brilliant Piper Laurie).

But De Palma also creates indelible images and milks the living hell out of the money shot, bathing Carrie’s perfect night in soft focus and romantic music to wring every drop of cruelty from the horror we know is coming her way. This is a film bookended by blood, with compassion for Carrie but no catharsis for the audience. Instead of a traditional hero there are at least three villains (including a young John Travolta) conspiring against the forces of femininity.

Carrie survives on the power of its ideas and story, soaked so deep into the public consciousness that one forgets the awkward moments of the movie it comes from.