EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS (2002)

For the duration of this pitiable horror comedy the thought that kept coming to the surface like the “grab-oids” in Tremors was “This simply isn’t Tremors”. This is a movie that wants to combine the horror and comedy that mixed so well in Tremors but it fails miserably.

It wants to have the eccentric cross-section-of-humanity-living-in-a-small-spit-of-a-town ensemble but the characters are simply not as endearing as those in Tremors. The town in Tremors is the ironically named Perfection. In Eight Legged Freaks, it’s the ironically named Prosperity. It’s population includes the African-American ham radio DJ spouting conspiracy theories and alien invasion paranoia from his trailer radio station. There’s the female sheriff with the detached teenage daughter (Scarlett Johansen) and the nerdy pre-teen son who, of course, knows everything about arachnid behavior. The kookie oddballs go on and on but I really don’t care to go any further with it. It all seems very forced and drawn up by committee.

Above all, what Tremors had going for it was the very natural comic interplay between Val & Earl, Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward respectively. They truly had the timing and rapport that recalled the glory days of Abbot and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, or better yet, Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon. David Arquette doesn’t really have any comic timing to speak of and certainly not the presence to carry a picture.

And finally, what’s with the talking spiders? Yes, the spiders have been given squeaky little cartoon voices that seem to utter things like “yow!” and “yipes!” and “ouch!” and “Oh, No!” at appropriately charming moments. Whatever chills the very expert cgi spiders could have offered is cancelled out by the Tom & Jerry sound effects.

Filled with Speilberg-esque Amazing Stories music, this stupid horror flick fails to scare, fails to generate laughs and keeps the viewer wondering just what the intent of its production was.

Directed by Ellory Elkayem, I give this wretched Tremors rip-off all eight legs from the squashed spider under my big ol’ boot.