**Some minor spoilers**
We live in an ironic age, and as such, the characters in our monster movies are aware of their own cliches even as they act them out. "Nobody ever listens to the kid," says a 10-year-old boy who has discovered that the spiders his friend has kept have ingested toxic waste and grown to gargantuan proportions. His mother chastises him for his "media-induced fantasies." She's also the local sheriff of the small Arizona town they inhabit, and as such is a pragmatist who doesn't believe her son's wild stories until one of the overgrown spiders climbs in her window.
"Eight Legged Freaks" reminded me of "Arachnophobia" from several years ago, although in that movie the spiders were normal sized (in most cases). Here they are terrifyingly huge, and that adds to the creepiness factor. We have a love/hate relationship with spiders. On the one hand they get rid of lots of pests, but on the other, we don't really want to see them around the house. That makes the thought of having them grow to many times their size a chilling one. And yet, "Freaks" remains mired firmly in camp, poking fun at itself, and that is as it should be. No movie about giant spiders should take itself very seriously.
David Arquette's character takes on the role of the hero, returning to town after 10 years in the hopes of picking up on a romance with the sheriff where he left off. Too bad for him the spiders arrive at the same time. He owns the gold mines left to him by his late father, and you don't win any awards for guessing if the mines will be crawling with spiders by the end of the movie. Eventually he teams up with the sheriff and leads the townspeople in a last stand at the ill-conceived mall.
The spiders, although huge and computer-generated, are very convincing. It's clear that spiders were carefully studied to mimic their movements as much as possible. This adds a dimension as dirtbikers are chased by jumping spiders, and a giant tarantula lumbers over to a mobile home and knocks it over. All of them seem to leak green goo as they get shot at, and make strange noises like growls and keening sounds, which is some feat since spiders have no vocal chords. They also have a nasty way of wrapping their victims up and saving them for later. I have to wonder if spiders would really be this aggressive towards humans, or if they might not go after prey that can't arm itself with guns. But these are not questions to be asked in a movie like this.
Why are we drawn to monster movies? I can't say. Perhaps the impossibility of the situation presented provides a comfort, a way of giving our fears a form they could never take in reality. Or maybe we just like seeing people getting snatched off the street by giant, eight-legged monstrosities. On a basic, B-movie level, this is a superior example of it's craft.
We live in an ironic age, and as such, the characters in our monster movies are aware of their own cliches even as they act them out. "Nobody ever listens to the kid," says a 10-year-old boy who has discovered that the spiders his friend has kept have ingested toxic waste and grown to gargantuan proportions. His mother chastises him for his "media-induced fantasies." She's also the local sheriff of the small Arizona town they inhabit, and as such is a pragmatist who doesn't believe her son's wild stories until one of the overgrown spiders climbs in her window.
"Eight Legged Freaks" reminded me of "Arachnophobia" from several years ago, although in that movie the spiders were normal sized (in most cases). Here they are terrifyingly huge, and that adds to the creepiness factor. We have a love/hate relationship with spiders. On the one hand they get rid of lots of pests, but on the other, we don't really want to see them around the house. That makes the thought of having them grow to many times their size a chilling one. And yet, "Freaks" remains mired firmly in camp, poking fun at itself, and that is as it should be. No movie about giant spiders should take itself very seriously.
David Arquette's character takes on the role of the hero, returning to town after 10 years in the hopes of picking up on a romance with the sheriff where he left off. Too bad for him the spiders arrive at the same time. He owns the gold mines left to him by his late father, and you don't win any awards for guessing if the mines will be crawling with spiders by the end of the movie. Eventually he teams up with the sheriff and leads the townspeople in a last stand at the ill-conceived mall.
The spiders, although huge and computer-generated, are very convincing. It's clear that spiders were carefully studied to mimic their movements as much as possible. This adds a dimension as dirtbikers are chased by jumping spiders, and a giant tarantula lumbers over to a mobile home and knocks it over. All of them seem to leak green goo as they get shot at, and make strange noises like growls and keening sounds, which is some feat since spiders have no vocal chords. They also have a nasty way of wrapping their victims up and saving them for later. I have to wonder if spiders would really be this aggressive towards humans, or if they might not go after prey that can't arm itself with guns. But these are not questions to be asked in a movie like this.
Why are we drawn to monster movies? I can't say. Perhaps the impossibility of the situation presented provides a comfort, a way of giving our fears a form they could never take in reality. Or maybe we just like seeing people getting snatched off the street by giant, eight-legged monstrosities. On a basic, B-movie level, this is a superior example of it's craft.