Amid an exceptionally grueling week—and this week will be no different—I somehow managed to watch 1983’s Christine, the John Carpenter-directed film adaptation of Stephen King’s novel.  The movie is about a 1958 Plymouth Fury with a bad attitude and a malignant influence on her owners.  The flick is also a reflection of Stephen King’s obsession with 1950s teen culture.  Indeed, Christine “speaks” through the medium of 1950s rock ‘n’ roll, much in the same way that Bumblebee from Transformers (2007).

The film follows Arnie—an agreeable, rule-abiding nerd with a friendly jock for a best friend—as he comes into possession of Christine.  While out riding with his buddy one day, he sees the car in a weedy lot with a “for sale” sign.  Immediately, Arnie is obsessed with the car, and insists on buying it over his friend’s many reasonable objections.

Arnie’s parents object as well, and the once obedient Arnie becomes angry and rebellious.  He fixes up Christine at a grubby parts shop, and the restored vehicle seems to give Arnie a newfound confidence.  While he is surly with his parents, his insistence on keeping the car appears initially warranted—he is becoming a man, and is ready for a little independence and responsibility.  Indeed, Arnie lands the hot 1980s babe at his school, largely due to his charisma and confidence.

Soon, however, Arnie develops a strange, obsessive co-dependence with his car.  After some stereotypically 1980s bullies destroy Christine, he vows to rebuild her, only for Christine to repair herself before Arnie’s eyes.  At this point, Arnie realizes that Christine is more than a mere car, and his obsession spirals further out of control.

Christine is jealous of Arnie’s girlfriend, and locks the girlfriend inside of herself while the girlfriend chokes on a hamburger.  Christine releases the girl just in time, but she becomes convinced (correctly) that Christine is malevolent, and a bad influence on Arnie.  Arnie struggles—but not much—between his loyalty to his girlfriend and his obsession with his car.  The car wins out.

Christine is, clearly, a metaphor for obsessive, co-dependent relationships, and the destructive nature these have on the participants.  The titular automobile is a stand-in for all the gorgeous, femme fatale, Jezebel-types in the world who sink their hooks into good—but weak—men and turn them bad.  That archetype is as old as civilization itself:  a good chunk of the first several chapters of Proverbs contain warnings about the allures of riotous floozies.  Christine delivers that important lesson in the form of a supernaturally malevolent and self-aware car.

While Carpenter did this film for a paycheck, not for love of the project, it contains his attention to detail and that overall “Carpenter look,” although it’s not as pronounced as in films like The Thing (1982) and The Fog (1980).  Particularly impressive is the scene in which Christine rebuilds herself.  Carpenter apparently went all over California buying 1958 Plymouth Furies and similar-looking models.  The car had a very limited production run, so Carpenter had a hard time finding them—and they were pricey.  Only two Christines survive today.

Christine is by no means a masterpiece, but it is an enjoyable film.  It’s not particularly scary, but it’s an important reminder of a time-worn Truth:  don’t lose your identity and self-control to a bad woman—or a great car.