His parents loom over him and control his every decision, Buddy Repperton and his gang attack him in his lessons, whilst Dennis’ other friends barely give him the time of day. Like Carrie, Arnie is attacked from all sides. Keith Gordon’s Arnie isn’t quite as gauche or naive as Carrie White, but he gets just as mad, albeit in a less telekinetic way. In this respect, Christine shares its DNA with Stephen King’s earlier work, Carrie, in that an ostracised teenager finds a form of empowerment against their antagonists in the supernatural. Though Arnie’s choice of car proves to be a terrible one, it’s not surprising that he finds himself defending his decision to purchase her.įor Christine is a tale of teenage rebellion and independence, one in which a boy blighted by strict parents, bullying, and isolation finds a sense of purpose that makes him feel better about himself. Of course, I only had a little Fiat Punto that, though given to mechanical temper tantrums, was decidedly not evil (nor could it regenerate itself, much to my bank account’s disappointment). It’s a sudden and heady knowledge of independence, of escape. That intoxicating feeling of being able to go anywhere you want, at any time, however far away. I remember the first time that I could drive out on my own in my car.
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