CHRISTINE: A Collision of Visions from Two Great Horror Narrators—John Carpenter and Stephen King

Everything John Carpenter touched until the end of the ’90s I consider to be pure gold, and when you add his musical work from recent years, it’s easy to forget his last two unsuccessful films—Ghosts of Mars and The Ward. However, Christine from 1983 was one of the sparks that ignited my love for horror. Today, it may not be as impressive, but it still possesses a unique charm.

Christine is also a collision of the visions of two great horror narrators—John Carpenter and Stephen King. It’s no secret that King often distances himself from adaptations of his work, and in one interview, Carpenter admitted that their “collaboration” was limited to King saying, “Do whatever you want.” And so, Carpenter did just that. While many accused him of simplifying the main character’s personality, I feel he outshone the original. I must admit, though I admire King’s ideas and characters, every attempt I’ve made to read one of his iconic books has ended in failure after a few chapters. Carrie, Cujo, Pennywise, Jack Torrance—I love them all, but in their visualized versions. The blood-red Plymouth Fury with a name as unassuming as a hurricane’s is no exception.

I was eleven or twelve when I first watched Christine. It was the exact edition as in the picture above, with Lucjan Szołajski’s voiceover and trailers for Critters 2 (shocking at the time for its scantily clad female bounty hunter) and The Seventh Sign featuring a young Demi Moore. As a devoted reader of Cinema magazine, I knew well who John Carpenter was and had already seen The Thing and Escape from New York. This story, however, was entirely different—less grim and not so much scary as suspenseful. For the creators, this presented a certain problem: standards at the time were very different from today, and everyone aimed for the adult rating. For an ‘80s horror film, failing to achieve that was almost disgraceful. Still, I’d be lying if I said I was frightened by the murderous car twenty years ago. Today, I don’t think Christine is a horror movie at all, but that’s not a bad thing anymore.

The main character here, of course, is the car itself—a vehicle that could turn Lightning McQueen into razor blades. In reality, twenty-four cars were used, which Carpenter gradually acquired. It wasn’t easy, as only around 5,000 Plymouth Fury cars were produced in 1958, most of them beige. This required some movie magic to disguise other, similar models.

Some of these cars didn’t survive the filming, but their scrapping wasn’t in vain. Even after all these years, the scenes of Christine returning to her original form after being trashed by local thugs remain impressive. Contrary to popular belief, the trick wasn’t simply playing the footage in reverse—it involved a sophisticated hydraulic mechanism. By 2018, only two of the original cars used on set still existed. Both are now in collectors’ hands, but during the release of last year’s Anthology: Movie Themes 1974-1998, John Carpenter once again got behind the wheel of a Plymouth Fury in the music video for the new version of Christine’s theme.

As befitting an ’80s horror film, there’s a palpable sexual tension in the air. The first dialogue between hormone-driven teenagers involves purely physical topics, and later scenes are filled with countless cringeworthy lines like: “Nothing smells as good as a new car… except maybe pussy.” Arnie Cunningham (played by Keith Gordon, now mainly known as a TV director for series like Dexter, Fargo, and Homeland) is a typical school outcast terrorized by the stereotypical thug of the era—a long-haired, black-clad bully with a switchblade in his pocket. Christine’s arrival opens a new chapter in his life, with the theme of transformation setting the narrative’s course.

Of course, those who dare come between Arnie and his beloved non-Transforming car must face the consequences. The third, brutal act—despite all its absurdity—is immensely satisfying. The most memorable scene is Christine forcing her way through a narrow passage, sparks flying, mirrors breaking, and dents forming, just to get to her target. In the “greatest automotive performances of all time” category, it’s definitely top-tier.

Carpenter skillfully juggles moods. At times, he delves into serious reflections, wondering if parents don’t want their children to grow up because it would undeniably mean they themselves are getting old. At other times, he delivers hilariously dry lines like, “He was so tough that if you poured hot water on him, he’d piss ice cubes.” Sometimes, even the translation adds charm—it’s hard not to smile when a date invitation is phrased as: “Do you think you could go dancing with me?” Carpenter’s greatest achievement, however, is imbuing the car with such personality that the audience can empathize with it, root for it, and cheer on its bloody vendetta. Christine has a more complex personality than many dramatic characters in modern cinema, easily surpassing the weak scares of The Crucifixion, Baba Yaga, Winchester, and other throwaway horror films. This time, Carpenter likely won’t scare you, but for pop culture treasure hunters of the ’80s, this is an endless mine of delight—full of unique fashion, dialogue, music, and a world where flying cars seemed more believable than the internet.