In a summer jam-packed with horrifying spectacles—the Taste of Chicago, the Pink Floyd reunion, the retirement of Sandra Day O’Connor—we can now add “Scarrie: The Musical.” Hell in a Handbag Productions has reanimated David Cerda’s pig-blood-soaked parody/homage with mixed results. On the one hand, “Scarrie” ably captures the adolescent angst that fuels Stephen King’s story. Cerda understands that the casual cruelty of high school is ultimately as frightening as any of the telekinetic pyrotechnics unleashed by Carrie. Largely through Joey Steakley’s uncanny impersonation of Sissy Spacek, “Scarrie” nails the mood of outcast loneliness that makes King’s novel and Brian DePalma’s film enduring teenage classics. On the other hand, the frequently sloppy execution of the show undermines its potential for campy fun. Struggles with a recalcitrant set and haphazard singing sap necessary energy from “Scarrie.” While the pivotal prom scene comes off with the requisite blend of zany horror, too many of the other scenes drag (no pun intended). A show like “Scarrie” can commit any number of sins, whatever Carrie’s demented mother Margaret might think: its only unpardonable act is being dull. (John Beer)
