Where oh where does our collective fear of spiders come from?
A quick Google.com search suggests that an average of 24% of Americans live with arachnophobia – the fear of spiders – and that’s only eclipsed by the fear of public speaking. An article published by the British Psychological Society suggests that not only is that 24% high – their research pits it around a negligible 6% (although qualified by ‘extreme arachnophobia,’ as if that makes it any more impressive) – but also it’s a highly irrational anxiety: spiders are our friends, only a scant 0.5% are deadly to humans, and they actually dine on other insects that likely terrify us as much if not more. The article goes on to suggest that, chiefly, scholars believe spiders get psychologically associated with the more deadly scorpion – they’re also arachnids – making any attempt to convince sufferers otherwise a bit of an uphill battle at best.
Indeed, this irrational fear of spiders has been exploited by a great many storytellers, so much so that perhaps filmmakers should be sued by any ‘arachnid society’ for contributing to their noxious reputation. The 1950’s not only saw The Incredible Shrinking Man taking it on-the-lam inside his own house to escape the clutches of a common house pest but also studios put out three silver screen releases – Tarantula (1955) and The Spider (1958) – that supersized their arachnids and put them rampaging in giant-style across the American countryside. Roughly two decades later, Hollywood rekindled their love affair with the creeping crawlies with such outings as The Giant Spider Invasion (1975) and Kingdom Of The Spiders (1977). Then – in 1990 – director Frank Marshall really went for broke in delivering the aptly titled Arachnophobia to theaters, a tale that saw a lethal South American spider terrorizing small-town America as a starting point for its global domination.
Now, there have been more – many more, in fact – so it should go without saying that this particular paranoia isn’t going away any time soon: earlier this year, writer/director Kiah Roache-Turner ventured back into the dark with Sting (2024), a yarn that aesthetically has a great deal in common with those aforementioned 50’s flicks. This protagonist arrives from Outer Space, and it crashes down unseen into a big city side-street apartment building where unsuspecting occupants slowly comes to grips with this extraordinarily intelligent mutation of the species. Before all is over, blood will be let, lives will be lost, and a little girl will come to love the surrogate father she nearly lost in the process.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After raising an unnervingly talented spider in secret, 12-year-old Charlotte must face the facts about her pet-and fight for her family's survival-when the once-charming creature rapidly transforms into a giant, flesh-eating monster.”
A quick Google.com search suggests that an average of 24% of Americans live with arachnophobia – the fear of spiders – and that’s only eclipsed by the fear of public speaking. An article published by the British Psychological Society suggests that not only is that 24% high – their research pits it around a negligible 6% (although qualified by ‘extreme arachnophobia,’ as if that makes it any more impressive) – but also it’s a highly irrational anxiety: spiders are our friends, only a scant 0.5% are deadly to humans, and they actually dine on other insects that likely terrify us as much if not more. The article goes on to suggest that, chiefly, scholars believe spiders get psychologically associated with the more deadly scorpion – they’re also arachnids – making any attempt to convince sufferers otherwise a bit of an uphill battle at best.
Indeed, this irrational fear of spiders has been exploited by a great many storytellers, so much so that perhaps filmmakers should be sued by any ‘arachnid society’ for contributing to their noxious reputation. The 1950’s not only saw The Incredible Shrinking Man taking it on-the-lam inside his own house to escape the clutches of a common house pest but also studios put out three silver screen releases – Tarantula (1955) and The Spider (1958) – that supersized their arachnids and put them rampaging in giant-style across the American countryside. Roughly two decades later, Hollywood rekindled their love affair with the creeping crawlies with such outings as The Giant Spider Invasion (1975) and Kingdom Of The Spiders (1977). Then – in 1990 – director Frank Marshall really went for broke in delivering the aptly titled Arachnophobia to theaters, a tale that saw a lethal South American spider terrorizing small-town America as a starting point for its global domination.
Now, there have been more – many more, in fact – so it should go without saying that this particular paranoia isn’t going away any time soon: earlier this year, writer/director Kiah Roache-Turner ventured back into the dark with Sting (2024), a yarn that aesthetically has a great deal in common with those aforementioned 50’s flicks. This protagonist arrives from Outer Space, and it crashes down unseen into a big city side-street apartment building where unsuspecting occupants slowly comes to grips with this extraordinarily intelligent mutation of the species. Before all is over, blood will be let, lives will be lost, and a little girl will come to love the surrogate father she nearly lost in the process.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After raising an unnervingly talented spider in secret, 12-year-old Charlotte must face the facts about her pet-and fight for her family's survival-when the once-charming creature rapidly transforms into a giant, flesh-eating monster.”
It’s been suggested over the years that writer/director Steven Spielberg truly invigorated Hollywood’s best efforts to focus on storytelling for the young and the young-at-heart. While I’ll concede that’s a valid argument, I’ve always insisted that he was far from the first to do so; still, given the fact that I think his films were among those big studio efforts largely embraced for this emphasis, he winds up getting a great deal of credit. Thankfully, many other auteurs have followed in those footsteps – Chris Columbus, Robert Zemeckis, JJ Abrams, etc. – and even a good deal more have tapped into the Spielberg vision while pushing their adventures in decidedly different directions.
Given that cinematic Fantasy borders very, very closely to topics and subject matter obsessed with things that go bump in the night, the Horror genre has benefitted as well from what I’ll call a bit of bleedover effect. For example, Netflix’s widely popular Stranger Things has amassed a huge fan following by picking up on such Spielbergian magic but infesting its various plotlines with some adult trappings of conspiracy and – more importantly – authentic screen Horror. The Duffer Brothers – the siblings largely credited with a great deal of what’s evolved from the streaming show – have certainly proven that screen magic and mystery need not ignore that there are things both children and adults should be afraid of; and the franchise continues to be a juggernaut by mixing the good, the bad, and the terrifying with each season.
For what it’s worth, Sting – even with its faults – fits within this same construct. While it’s functionally the story of young Charlotte (Alyla Browne), an artistic misfit struggling to fit in at home in much the same way screen children rather commonly get portrayed, director Roache-Turner never shies away from the chance to remind us that Char’s still a kid within an adult world … and maybe even they’re not enough to protect her from the monster she inadvertently releases.
We’re first introduced to Sting – the film’s central baddie – when it cracks open from the small meteor(ish) egg which crashes down into an elaborate dollhouse. Much like those facehuggers from Ridley Scott’s spectacular Alien (1979), Sting stretches its legs and crawls out into the faux domicile, slowly making its way from room to room whilst credits roll in the set-up. In short order, we meet Charlotte – a bit of a benign cat burglar using the apartment building’s HVAC ducts to explore her neighbors – who finds the tiny arachnid, captures it in a matchbox (do those things exist anymore?), and takes it back to her room as a newfound pet.
Where there are children, it naturally follows there will be parents (or some other figures of authority); and Char is very soon confronted by her step-father Ethan (Ryan Corr), a hopeful comic book illustrator whose day job it is to manage the building’s many, many, many maintenance issues for his abusive aunt-in-law, landlord, and fellow tenant Gunter (Robyn Nevin). With a name like ‘Gunter,’ she’s every bit the full-blooded German matriarch the Third Reich would’ve produced, leaving Ethan with a never-ending list of jobs needing his immediate, undivided attention. His wife – Char’s mother – Heather (Penelope Mitchell) spends her days toiling in her work-from-home career and her nights caring for her Alzheimer’s afflicted mother Helga (Noni Hazlehurst). Torn between an endless list of responsibilities, Ethan has begun to show cracks of frustration between managing the needs of so many while watching his personal dreams slowly slip away.
Given that cinematic Fantasy borders very, very closely to topics and subject matter obsessed with things that go bump in the night, the Horror genre has benefitted as well from what I’ll call a bit of bleedover effect. For example, Netflix’s widely popular Stranger Things has amassed a huge fan following by picking up on such Spielbergian magic but infesting its various plotlines with some adult trappings of conspiracy and – more importantly – authentic screen Horror. The Duffer Brothers – the siblings largely credited with a great deal of what’s evolved from the streaming show – have certainly proven that screen magic and mystery need not ignore that there are things both children and adults should be afraid of; and the franchise continues to be a juggernaut by mixing the good, the bad, and the terrifying with each season.
For what it’s worth, Sting – even with its faults – fits within this same construct. While it’s functionally the story of young Charlotte (Alyla Browne), an artistic misfit struggling to fit in at home in much the same way screen children rather commonly get portrayed, director Roache-Turner never shies away from the chance to remind us that Char’s still a kid within an adult world … and maybe even they’re not enough to protect her from the monster she inadvertently releases.
We’re first introduced to Sting – the film’s central baddie – when it cracks open from the small meteor(ish) egg which crashes down into an elaborate dollhouse. Much like those facehuggers from Ridley Scott’s spectacular Alien (1979), Sting stretches its legs and crawls out into the faux domicile, slowly making its way from room to room whilst credits roll in the set-up. In short order, we meet Charlotte – a bit of a benign cat burglar using the apartment building’s HVAC ducts to explore her neighbors – who finds the tiny arachnid, captures it in a matchbox (do those things exist anymore?), and takes it back to her room as a newfound pet.
Where there are children, it naturally follows there will be parents (or some other figures of authority); and Char is very soon confronted by her step-father Ethan (Ryan Corr), a hopeful comic book illustrator whose day job it is to manage the building’s many, many, many maintenance issues for his abusive aunt-in-law, landlord, and fellow tenant Gunter (Robyn Nevin). With a name like ‘Gunter,’ she’s every bit the full-blooded German matriarch the Third Reich would’ve produced, leaving Ethan with a never-ending list of jobs needing his immediate, undivided attention. His wife – Char’s mother – Heather (Penelope Mitchell) spends her days toiling in her work-from-home career and her nights caring for her Alzheimer’s afflicted mother Helga (Noni Hazlehurst). Torn between an endless list of responsibilities, Ethan has begun to show cracks of frustration between managing the needs of so many while watching his personal dreams slowly slip away.
Similarly, Roache-Turner’s script suffers under the weight of trying to keep the expected suspense moving forward while balancing out screen time between this rather slim cast of characters. Gunter and Helga are the first obvious casualties here, reduced from the onset to being little more than stereotypical old codgers – one somewhat debilitated and the other little more than a Nazi(ish) shrew – so they wind up serving more as comic fodder whenever they appear. Upstairs neighbor Erik (Danny Kim) gets portrayed as the – ahem – brainy foreigner with no social skills and a penchant for knowing whatever science fact is required to effectively more the plot forward when needed. The building’s only other resident – Maria (a luminous Silvia Colloca) – has apparently suffered some dire tragedy – it’s implied that she lost her husband and children to some grim affair – but none of that really matters as (you guessed it) she’ll wind up as one of the earliest victims to Sting’s growing hunger.
Still, it helps that both Browne and Corr are well cast in their respective roles. Their father-daughter dynamic works almost whenever it’s relied upon (there are a few rough spots, but given Browne’s young age it’s easy to overlook), even though the man winds up acting a bit cowardly in a few small spots. I could be wrong (I have been before), but I’m apt to wonder if Roache-Turner felt responsible to – ahem – defang any appearance of a strong male lead – an ongoing problem inside Hollywood and beyond, from what I’ve seen – in favor of handing more heroics to the women and children. While I can appreciate just how put upon the father felt at times, I still couldn’t wonder what his motivation was for cracking so much as he does late in the picture. Charlotte does have the answers necessary to guarantee everyone’s survival up to a point; but it’s Ethan’s handyman(esque) moxie that comes into play in the final reel. Though the kid gets to ultimately vanquish her mortal enemy – Sting has now grown to man-sized proportions, wouldn’t you know – I’d argue that she deserved the honor of delivering the coup de grace given the way the story was crafted.
Horrors of this particular variety – like those mentioned above from the 1950’s and 1970’s – operate on a slim efficiency. Basically, there isn’t much to know, nor much need to know, and you’re just here to observe. Audiences aren’t required to wade through a great deal scientific meandering to grasp what’s transpiring – basically, there’s a spider, it has an insatiable appetite and some cosmic talents, and it’s getting larger and larger with each passing meal – and, from there, you roll with the changes. What, how, and why the creature does what it does matters not. What, why, and how the monster varies its killing style isn’t meant to be a distraction so much as it is the main attraction; and that’s all you need to know. Sting is the kind of circus sideshow – the bearded lady, the intelligent donkey, the fire-breathing man, etc. – that exists entirely on one level. You’re not given a lot of time to mull things over for fear that you’d change from a believer to a skeptic. It’s disposable entertainment, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
To the film’s credit, Roache-Turner’s script stays pretty lean. As I said, it’s a thin cast of characters, and this allows for the efforts of crafting tension with some excellent camera trickery – accomplished largely in such a way to minimize the need for too many intrusive special effects – to remain always at the forefront. While it might’ve been nice to have a bit more scientific explanation for how and why Sting – the spider – is able to exist, grow, and feed, it isn’t all that important because what’s assembled here is a (collective) house haunted by an aggressive monster. One spill is little more than the set-up for the next chill, and viewers are constantly encouraged to do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the ride.
Still, it helps that both Browne and Corr are well cast in their respective roles. Their father-daughter dynamic works almost whenever it’s relied upon (there are a few rough spots, but given Browne’s young age it’s easy to overlook), even though the man winds up acting a bit cowardly in a few small spots. I could be wrong (I have been before), but I’m apt to wonder if Roache-Turner felt responsible to – ahem – defang any appearance of a strong male lead – an ongoing problem inside Hollywood and beyond, from what I’ve seen – in favor of handing more heroics to the women and children. While I can appreciate just how put upon the father felt at times, I still couldn’t wonder what his motivation was for cracking so much as he does late in the picture. Charlotte does have the answers necessary to guarantee everyone’s survival up to a point; but it’s Ethan’s handyman(esque) moxie that comes into play in the final reel. Though the kid gets to ultimately vanquish her mortal enemy – Sting has now grown to man-sized proportions, wouldn’t you know – I’d argue that she deserved the honor of delivering the coup de grace given the way the story was crafted.
Horrors of this particular variety – like those mentioned above from the 1950’s and 1970’s – operate on a slim efficiency. Basically, there isn’t much to know, nor much need to know, and you’re just here to observe. Audiences aren’t required to wade through a great deal scientific meandering to grasp what’s transpiring – basically, there’s a spider, it has an insatiable appetite and some cosmic talents, and it’s getting larger and larger with each passing meal – and, from there, you roll with the changes. What, how, and why the creature does what it does matters not. What, why, and how the monster varies its killing style isn’t meant to be a distraction so much as it is the main attraction; and that’s all you need to know. Sting is the kind of circus sideshow – the bearded lady, the intelligent donkey, the fire-breathing man, etc. – that exists entirely on one level. You’re not given a lot of time to mull things over for fear that you’d change from a believer to a skeptic. It’s disposable entertainment, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
To the film’s credit, Roache-Turner’s script stays pretty lean. As I said, it’s a thin cast of characters, and this allows for the efforts of crafting tension with some excellent camera trickery – accomplished largely in such a way to minimize the need for too many intrusive special effects – to remain always at the forefront. While it might’ve been nice to have a bit more scientific explanation for how and why Sting – the spider – is able to exist, grow, and feed, it isn’t all that important because what’s assembled here is a (collective) house haunted by an aggressive monster. One spill is little more than the set-up for the next chill, and viewers are constantly encouraged to do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the ride.
I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that Roache-Turner and cinematographer Brad Shield do an amazing job infecting almost each and every visual with something to watch. Like that Spielbergian magic I mentioned above, the camera captures every sheen and every glimmer; and it bobs, weaves, and – dare I say – crawls from point to point with an irrepressibly whimsical style, much like a spider creeping exactly where it always intended to go. Rarely is such a technique as laudable as it is here – I’ve seen it done in Dramas and Comedies, and it’s felt like stylistic overload – elevating what they’ve captured on film to have been possibly plucked from nightmares in the best way possible … if such a thing were ever desired, that is.
Simply put, Sting emerges as a project that’s fun to watch and watch closely. There’s often more going on in there that meets the eye, and such creativity should be celebrated when caught in such an subversive web.
And … yes … I say this as one who is very, very, very afraid of spiders.
Sting (2024) was produced by Align, Pictures In Paradise, and See Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Well Go USA Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the project’s sights and sounds to be pretty damn exceptional from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, sadly, there isn’t much. You get a trailer and a brief making-of – one that serves more as a bloated promotional short – to digest; and that just wasn’t enough for this viewer. Never is.
Recommended.
What I like about Sting (2024) is that – most of the time – it functions very much like a late 1950’s oversized monster movie, complete with the trappings of the fateful spider possibly coming from outer space and sticking all of the action very close to a slim cast of characters. What I didn’t like was that – with such a small cast – the script really should’ve invested a bit more time in actually developing these players other than being stock additions. Sadly, they end up being little more than victims (to a degree), and we only got to know them passingly. A bit more effort could’ve had this one being worth a repeat visit … if not the rather obviously promised sequel.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Well Go USA Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Sting (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Simply put, Sting emerges as a project that’s fun to watch and watch closely. There’s often more going on in there that meets the eye, and such creativity should be celebrated when caught in such an subversive web.
And … yes … I say this as one who is very, very, very afraid of spiders.
Sting (2024) was produced by Align, Pictures In Paradise, and See Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Well Go USA Entertainment. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the project’s sights and sounds to be pretty damn exceptional from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, sadly, there isn’t much. You get a trailer and a brief making-of – one that serves more as a bloated promotional short – to digest; and that just wasn’t enough for this viewer. Never is.
Recommended.
What I like about Sting (2024) is that – most of the time – it functions very much like a late 1950’s oversized monster movie, complete with the trappings of the fateful spider possibly coming from outer space and sticking all of the action very close to a slim cast of characters. What I didn’t like was that – with such a small cast – the script really should’ve invested a bit more time in actually developing these players other than being stock additions. Sadly, they end up being little more than victims (to a degree), and we only got to know them passingly. A bit more effort could’ve had this one being worth a repeat visit … if not the rather obviously promised sequel.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Well Go USA Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Sting (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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