The year is 1990. A much younger me is out at the cinema with a group of friends for someone’s birthday. A decision has to be made – do we see Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop, or do we see Amblin’s spider-filled “thrill-omedy”, Arachnophobia? I choose the later. I’m shouted down five to one. A core memory is formed…
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, watching a regular scary movie is far different prospect to watching a flick bulging at the seams with a particular phobia and some people simply won’t touch the experience with a ten foot pole. However, my brain chemistry – for whatever reason – is wired slightly different, because as a former arachnophobe myself, I positively relish the chance to be freaked out by our eight legged friends skittering in the most uncomfortable scenarios. Taken on that level, Frank Marshall’s Arachnophobia is quite possibly the most fun tou could possibly have while caught in the throes of one of the most popular phobias to ever crawl up your leg.
While uptight entomologist James Atherton toils in the Venezuelan jungle looking for new species of bug, hapless photographer Jerry Manley inadvertently makes a more significant find when he succumbs to the unfeasibly toxic bite of a new species of spider. However, unbeknownst to the other members of his exhibition, as his body is shipped back to his home town of Canaima, California, the hefty arachnid, referred to by the intimidating moniker of the General, hitches a ride in the coffin and before you know it, it’s mating with common household spiders like an eight-legged slut and producing tiny offspring that can’t reproduce, but can kill with a single bite.
Enter Ross Jennings, a big city doctor who has moved his family to the country to avoid the earthquakes and pollution of San Francisco. However, not long after arriving, Ross is rocked by two, rather significant, set backs with the first being that the stuffy, old, set in his ways, town physician has decided to suddenly not retire despite being old enough to challenge methuselah. However, the second is far more disturbing; because as the General’s brood starts to spread across town, people suddenly start dying under “mysterious” circumstances as the little buggers start inflicting their lethal nips when people least except it.
With one of the victims being Ross’ only patient, his credibility is shaken more than the foundations of a San Fran high rise, but when the outbreak of killer house spiders is finally discovered, matters only get worse for the beleaguered city slicker. You see, suffering from crippling, paralyzing, arachnophobia is awkward at the best of times, but having it during a town-wide infestation of the fuckers is the very definition of bad news.
Ever since that fateful day when Arnold Schwarzenegger’s teaching habits ruined an even when I would have rather been freaked out of my skin, it took me a little longer than most to find myself caught in Arachnophobia’s web. Maybe I was sulking about not catching it on the big screen and decided to take it out of the film itself, but while I appreciated the flick, I hardly went nuts for it. However, as the years have passed an I’ve stopped being such a moody little prick, not only have I come to adore the mix of flesh-crawling jump scares and causal, snappy humour, but I genuinely feel that it’s part of a Holy Trinity of killer animal movies (along with Spielberg’s Jaws and Hitchcock’s The Birds) that build the foundation of the entire sub-genre. Yes, there’s been spider movies before with the big, atomic-powered likes of Tarantula in the 1950s, the likes of Kingdom Of The Spiders which chose to go small with its arachnids in the 70s and even The Giant Spider Invasion that went all sizes, but with a tone that keeps things light so as not to make things too traumatic for families, Arachnophobia trumps them all easily by treading that fine, gossamer-thin web between scares and laughs.
Did I like the fact that, in an attempt to not tarnish itself with the label of “horror, it was sold as a thrill-omedy? Absolutely not and I feel like I have to wash my hands after typing that particular bullshit phrase, but it’s that perfect, Spielbergian mix of likability and outright trauma that makes the movie so special. Starting with the gnarly stuff, long-time producer, first-time director Frank Marshall certainly doesn’t hold back when comes to the moments that make you spasm uncontrollably with revulsion and he basically thrusts every nightmare scenario you can think of directly into your face in a gleefully spiteful example of an anxiety jackpot. Sensitive to the idea of a spider falling on your face while in the shower and then slowly getting washed down your entire, naked body? Frank’s got you covered. A bit wobbly at the thought of a spider the size of a catcher’s mit hurling itself at your face like a fucking face hugger? You might need to sit down, as the movie delivers all these moments and more with a impressive array of animatronics, puppets and an actual army of real life spider thespians that were wrangled by lemon Pledge and hair dryers.
Not to be outdone by their eight-legged co-stars, the human actors rise to the challenge wonderfully with the always likable Jeff Daniels taking point as the lead. He’s pitch perfect in a role that practically echoes Roy Scheider’s Martin Brody insofar that he’s a city boy, forced to face a crippling fear because nature has decided to be a bigger wanker than usual. Rounding out something of a lose, Jaws trifecta, we also have Julian Sands’ egotistical expert and John Goodman’s goofy, incompetent exterminator, Delbert, who promptly steals every scene he’s in and everyone creates a great, quirky, small town feel that crackles with snappy dialogue.
Marshall is wise enough to realise that making virtually all your characters incredibly likable not only raises the stakes, but makes you very invested as everything rapidly turns to webby shit.
Finally, what makes Arachnophobia work so well aside from the scares and the fun, is that somehow, Marshall crafts genuine set pieces out of the unlikely concept of a full grown man engaging in a final boss fight with a insectoid predator the size of Shaq’s hand. The whole final running battle where Ross has to match wits with a spider is somehow an impressively back and forth struggle as the two constantly out manuever each other to pick up the W without ever feeling even remotely silly.
Without a shadow of a doubt, the best killer spider movie to ever climb up the water spout, let Arachnophobia creep into your metaphorical attic and it’ll sink its fangs into you in the best way imaginable.
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