Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Sting of Death

Sting of Death (1965)

Critter: Mutant Physalia physalis, Portuguese Man-of-War + Mad Scientist = “Jellyfish” Man

Size: Man-sized, of course

Modus Operandi: Sneaks up on unsuspecting, but deserving human victims and stings them with his stinging gloves & tentacles

How the Menace Emerges: A disgruntled Igor-like research assistant breeds his own extra-large man-of-war on electricity, seawater and human blood creating a lethal headdress wielded for revenge

End Goal: Being alone with the pretty lady and vengeance

Sting of Death is the sort of film that just isn’t made any more. Many folks might see that as a good thing, but they’re also the same folks you try not to invite to your parties. It is a fun movie, but that’s just the obvious part. Although buttressed upon tried and true formulas, the premise is unique and the critter is entirely absurd. The budget was nil, yet with a low-budget craftsman at the helm, everything that counts is in place. It is well-paced and looks gorgeous. It is the combination of these conflicting things that makes Sting of Death such a rarity and such a resounding success.

William Grefé is the craftsman behind Sting of Death, the man responsible for skillfully turning a disfigured research assistant into a vengeful “jellyfish” man while still managing to toss in an equally absurd (but catchy) poolside dance number (The Jellyfish, sung by Neil Sedaka). If you listen to the commentary, a priceless chat between Grefé and the immeasurable Frank Hennenlotter, you can get a sense of what sort of process is required to pull this off. This is real grindhouse. Sting of Death is packaged on DVD with Death Curse of Tartu, the even lower budget film Grefe made as a drive-in companion piece at the distributor’s last minute request. Even though the baddies in this one are all vertebrates, it too comes with a gratuitous dance sequence and fabulous commentary from Grefe and Hennenlotter. For only 10 bucks, it’s a steal.

For those of you who laughed at the absurdity of using an inflated plastic bag and leftover Mardi Gras beads to represent the mutant Man-of-War here, I suggest that you check out these photos of the real deal here, here and here.

Nit-picking Science: To be fair, the Portuguese Man-of-War is not a jellyfish at all, but a related, rather more complex, colonial supercritter. As siphonophores, each “individual” Man-of-War is actually made up of a colony of specially differentiated individuals collectively and obligately living as a single organism. Although they are all the same species, this species differentiates itself into four distinct types of organism (zooid), each with its own purpose in creating a fully functional Man-of-War, and each unable to survive on its own. The first zooids are the pneumatophores, which look like floating plastic bags and keep the collective critter afloat. The next zooids are dactylozooids which are the nasty, stinging, venomous tentacles that capture and kill prey organisms, but in order for the man-of-war to eat, it needs the next set of zooids, the gastrozooids. These guys do the digesting for the group. Lastly, no Man-of-War is complete without a means of reproduction, and that’s where the gonozooids come in. Sting of Death merely added another mutualist to this party: the human host who expanded the Man-of-War’s hunting range to include large terrestrial mammals. Oh, and while I couldn’t find out for sure, I suspect that Dr. Richardson is mistaken when he says that Man-of-War venom is exactly like cobra venom.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Parasite (2004)

Parasite (2004)

Critter: The worst CGI, toothy Annelids ever committed to film.

Size: Apparently, this was up to the whim of the animator for each scene

Modus Operandi: Slimily slither around, gnashing teeth and occasionally biting or eating people.

How the Menace Emerges: An environmentally concerned bioengineer gets a gig with an oil company to try to make things right from the inside by creating an oil-eating enzyme. When the drunk, cowardly and otherwise useless blue-collar crew ignores her precise instructions, a huge dose of the enzyme is sprayed on an annelid and wreaks genetic havoc.

End Goal: Who cares.

A worm, of sorts, is sprayed with an experimental enzyme engineered to eat oil. It then builds a chrysalis made of masking tape (well, at least it’s not CGI). Strangely, once it’s out of it’s chrysalis, it hasn’t metamorphosized at all. Add to the mess a group of ecoterrorists from the head scientist’s past and you have a heck of a mess. So, what about the so-called parasites of the title? They don’t seem to be parasites at all, but rather run of mill predators. And they are portrayed with, hands-down, the worst CGI ever.

I know I’ve said this before, but Parasite really is the worst entry in the Guide to date. Terrible acting, terrible, terrible CGI and an absolutely useless story. It attempts to play the eco-horror card, but fails miserably. Just tossing in a villainous corporate executive, a concerned scientist and a group of ecoterrorists without any story or character development just doesn’t cut it.

To be fair, the makers of Parasite were attempting to make a complete rip-off of Alien/Aliens. They saw a successful formula and thought that stealing bits and pieces of it would be enough. It just wasn’t.

Nit-picking Science: Dr. Hansen, there is no way that you can tell if the cells you are looking at are acidic or not. Also, what about those little cells tells you that any organic matter, living or dead, can serve as hosts for this so-called parasite? Despite your completely unfounded prognosis, these things behave exactly like man-eating predators in every way. Just because 90% of your film was a sorry rehash of Alien/Aliens that doesn’t mean that you have to stretch the story to include parasites, too. If you are going to, at least look up what they are in the dictionary first.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Mothra

Mothra (1961)

Critter: Enormous, magical member of the order Lepidoptera

Size: Huge- at least 100 m long as a larva (some report Mothra is 180 m long with a 250 m wingspan in the adult stage)

Modus Operandi: Rubber-suit & robot rampage by land, sea and air

How the Menace Emerges: The two twin “tiny beauties” that are Mothra’s representatives are abducted by an evil capitalist pig, and Mothra gets very angry.

End Goal: To save the tiny beauties, somehow implying that this will restore peace on Earth

Ah, finally! An A+ invertebrate flick! Mothra is one of the three films in the Icons of Sci-Fi, Toho Collection DVD set just out this past Tuesday. While the film could have used a bit of clean up, this is its first time out in the US on DVD and it’s uncut, in Japanese and has a killer commentary. Although it’s a classic Toho studio rubber suit monster masterpiece with Ishiro Honda (Godzilla, Matango, Dogora) at the helm, this time, the monster is hardly monstrous. Like King Kong, Mothra is a sympathetic monster. She does wreak havoc in both Tokyo & a faux US city named New Kirk City, but who can blame her. The adorable Mothra is instinctually compelled to do so out of a sense of justice. She’s not angry at Japan or humanity like Godzilla, she just wants her pals back home.

While American sci-fi was busy commenting on the awesomeness of radiation and its fictional capacity to make insects (and anything else) huge, Japanese sci-fi responded to the atomic age in an understandably more complex fashion. There is no real explanation of Mothra’s origins, but she is most likely not a mutant born of radiation, but rather a quasi-religious figure (perhaps fashioned after old animistic kami of old Japan) whose sole purpose is to protect two very special ladies. Her role is to make the world right again, and she doesn’t give a damn who gets in her way.

The tiny beauties live on Infant Island, an idyllic and supposedly uninhabited island that was bombarded with radiation in military tests (a stand-in for Bikini Atoll, no doubt) by the nefarious nation, Rosilica (a satirical stand-in for Russia & America), known for its weapons, capitalist stances and its evil representative in Japan, Nelson. It is Rosilica’s Nelson and his inhumane greed that unleashes Mothra’s wrath on innocent Japan, and the Rosilican government stands behind Nelson’s claim that the tiny beauties are not people but property. It is also Rosilica that provides the atomic heat rays that Japan hopes will kill Mothra. Of course, Rosilica’s high-tech atomic weapons don’t fix anything, in fact, they seem to make things much worse. Mere technology can’t destroy the nature that Mothra embodies, and rather than perishing, she emerges from the blast as a very fuzzy and adorable moth. She then heads straight for Rosilica for some rampaging in deserving New Kirk City. Mothra is a rather simple moral tale, and the tiny beauties bid farewell to Rosilica and their Japanese pals on a sweet note: “May all the world’s peoples live together in peace and harmony!”…or else.

Not only is Mothra chock full of insightful satire and social commentary, it is also a technical masterwork. The Toho studio system was in full swing in 1961, with a stable of excellent actors, directors and special effects folks at the ready. The effects in Mothra are a combination of models, puppets, rubber-suit monsters, remote controlled robots, blue-screen and animation, all of which are rendered beautifully. The planes glide through the sky in formation, shooting rockets with real flames that leave sooty marks and flames on larval Mothra when they land. Mothra undulates just as a caterpillar should, and bounces when she falls. Once in full adult form, she glides through the air with graceful wings that move naturally. Not all of the effects necessarily look real, but with natural lighting, a real physicality and inventive cinematography, all of these effects are convincing enough, and downright impressive.

Nit-picking Science: Mothra is light on entomology, so there’s nothing for me to rip apart here. A physicist may have a better time with stuff like the telepathy-blocking plastic and the atomic heat ray than I could.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Tail Sting

Tail Sting (2001)

Critter: Genetically altered members of the order Scorpiones

Size: They start off small, but soon grow to man-sized monsters

Modus Operandi: Annihilate human victims with razor-sharp stingers and crushing claws.

How the Menace Emerges: One of three scientists is overcome by greed and in mid-flight, attempts to steal the mutant scorpions he helped create, but they escape. Inexplicably, they grow much larger and meaner.

End Goal: Rampaging, mayhem

At first, I was under the impression that Tail Sting was a very slight variation on the Snakes on a Plane model: comedy, critters and general tongue-in-cheek absurdity in a tight spot. Then I checked the date. That’s right, folks, Tail Sting predated the Snakes on a Plane phenomenon by a full 5 years. Points for originality, perhaps, but I have a sneaking suspicion that someone else has tried the escaped-critters-on-a-plane trick before.

Still, this film was a bit of a surprise. Prior to Tail Sting, I was fairly confident that the formula for a successfully fun B-critter flick consisted mainly of practical effects, rather than CGI, and a sense of humor that did away with the pretension of self-seriousness. Although this film had both of these prized ingredients, they were not enough to save it from the rubbish heap. Apparently, I need more.

The critters seemed to be based the stars of The Black Scorpion rather than the real deal, and were mostly puppet work, prosthetics and shadow attacks. Kudos to the makers of Tail Sting for giving the folks some homespun creative puppets and camera tricks, rather than succumbing to the CGI cop out, but yet something was still lacking in the final execution. The same goes for its tongue-in-cheek-ness. The pilot, Jack Russell, is named after an adorable breed of small dog, the mysterious Middle Easterners that sneak on the plane & speak of their solemn mission turn out to be electricians, the Goth kid with the German accent is really an American faker, it goes on and on. It tried to be funny (and to make fun of itself), but maybe it tried too hard.

Nit-picking Science: How many times do you people need to be told that scorpions are not insects! Dr. Ryan, you should be ashamed. And whoever heard of a queen scorpion? If there’s one critter that isn’t likely to build up a cozy little commune with her comrades, it’s the scorpion. Although, there is a real Scorpion Queen in Thailand who recently wed the Centipede King, I kid you not.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Attack of the Giant Leeches

Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959)

Critter: Mutant members of the subclass Hirudina

Size: Man-sized

Modus Operandi: Cruising around a swamp, grabbing human victims and depositing them in their underwater cave to feast on them until they run out of blood

How the Menace Emerges: It’s a mystery, but maybe the radiation at Cape Canaveral had something to do with it

End Goal: Dinner

Attack of the Giant Leeches is the Guide’s first foray into leeches, blood-sucking invertebrates that seem so fitting for horror films, and yet so rarely put in an appearance. It’s also our first Roger Corman flick, and while not one of his best, it is infused with all of the fun that comes with Corman’s hand in the production. As in most of his films, there is very little fat in this flick. At just 62 minutes there’s not much time for things to be built up or fall apart. The giant-sized leeches are rubber suit monsters on a plastic sack budget, but they do have creepy mouths and leave convincing leech hickeys on their victims. The characters are caricatures with just enough back story to earn a pass and establish the requisite conflict, sympathy, repugnance and catharsis: the victims deserve to be victims, the Doc is a smart, wily sun of a gun, the useless girlfriend/daughter pours coffee, listens sympathetically and provides a link between the game warden and the voice of science, the sheriff is conceited and useless, our hero the game warden vows to protect the critters of the swamp and get behind the mysterious killings and of course, the moonshine-swillin’ hillbillies are hillarious.

Being a Tennessee gal myself, old school hillbilly horror is one of my favorite B subgenres, and Attack of the Giant Leeches must have been one of the first. While some have claimed that Hershel Gordon Lewis’ Two Thousand Maniacs (1964) was the start and that the post - Deliverance (1972) 70s were the heyday, if Buddy Ebsen has taught us anything it’s that hillbillies have always been fun to make fun of and there’s no exception for horror. In the 70s, the hillbilly horror genre did take a turn away from fun-filled kitsch and drive straight into slasher/psycho-killer/inbred mutant sadist territory, but I’d hardly say that HG Lewis was the inventor of this fine subgenre, and Attack of the Giant Leeches stands as evidence.

Apparently, someone made an absolutely terrible remake of Attack of the Giant Leeches in 2008. Look for it on the Guide someday, although I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.

Nit-picking Science: I may have missed something, but I really don’t recall any science whatsoever in this film. Well, aside from the fact that leeches don’t have arms, but I write that off as on-the-cheap costuming. If you are dying to know more about our armless blood-sucking pals, check out this (barely) film-related dispatch from the American Museum of Natural History.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: The Hellstrom Chronicle

The Hellstrom Chronicle (1971)

Critter: Multiple members of the phylum Arthropoda

Size: Varies

Modus Operandi: Through their capacities for speedier adaptation, insects are taking over the world and ousting humanity in the process

How the Menace Emerges: Evolution and a bit of thoughtlessness on the part of humanity

End Goal: World domination

Winner of the 1972 Academy Award for Best Documentary, The Hellstrom Chronicle is an oddity: part documentary, part science fiction, all eco-terror. On the whole, it is a nature documentary, but coupled with a foreboding, existentialist narrator, the fictitious entomologist Dr. Hellstrom and an ominous and unnerving soundtrack by Lalo Schifrin. The cinematography is outstanding, which is presumably the reason that it was considered a documentary at all in the 1972 Oscars. It is also what helped a generation of young filmgoers take the over the top Dr. Hellstrom at face value. In the 70s, this film actually disturbed people, convincing them that humanity was on the brink of disaster and that insects were truly taking over. The interesting thing about this is that the insects are merely continuing what they’ve always done, for 300-400 million years. Couching all of this in faux eminent disaster talk doesn’t change a thing. Of course, not all of the footage in this film is nature-show material. This was the psychedelic era after all. In a favorite sequence, rapid-fire edits of the menacing eyespots on moth wings blend into the menacing blips from a huge mainframe computer in an attempt to show both the similarity and the intensity of the war between insects and humans.

Altogether, The Hellstrom Chronicle is an interesting entry into the Guide, as a period piece, as fantastic macro-cinematography, for its weirdness and yes, for its unintended hilarity. I can’t say that I truly think that the marriage of documentary and sci-fi really worked in this one, but I can’t say that it didn’t work well enough. Unfortunately, this is as of yet entirely unavailable in any legitimate form such as DVD. Still, it’s worth asking your internet savvy pal to dig up and burn for you (Thanks, Joel!).

Nit-picking Science: Astoundingly, the science in The Hellstrom Chronicle is, as far as I can tell, very sound. It is the context that these real-life oddities of nature are put in that makes this film less of a documentary than sci-fi. Through this trickery, The Hellstrom Chronicles lured a number of adventurous but unaware filmgoers into theatres to see a trippy, eco-horror flick, and instead handed them a fair amount of bug knowledge (and wonder) along with nightmare-inducing imagery and a false sense of dread. Yipee!

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Tremors

Tremors (1990)
Critter: An enormous and hideous underground worm called a graboid,or more formally Caederus mexicana. A frighteningly complete life history is available here.
Size: 30 feet in length
Modus Operandi: An eyeless, underground predator that senses prey vibrations on the surface, attacks by grabbing prey and gorily consuming them
How the Menace Emerges: A lovely mystery
End Goal: Dinner
Ah, finally a decent invertebrate flick. It’s been so long since I’ve reviewed a movie that wasn’t awful that I hardly know what to say. Tremors does right what so many critter flicks get wrong. It’s fun, smart, funny, action-packed, quick-paced, made for adults and loaded with likeable practical effects. It would be overdoing it to say that Tremors is a masterwork, but it is without a doubt, a solid piece of critter filmmaking. It isn’t exactly original, and a lot of its charm comes from the utilization of time-tested techniques, but it seems to land in that well-crafted category of B-flicks* that hits all of the necessary points to come off as a fine piece of craftmanship. There are far too many folks on the internet that are obsessed with this fine film for me to add anything to the mix, but if you have a spare 96 minutes one Saturday afternoon, it won’t be a waste of time.
* I’ve read that Tremors had a budget of about 11 million, which in my book makes it more of an A flick. Still, in 1990 Arachnophobia had a budget three times as large.

Nit-picking Science: One of the nicest things about Tremors is that, aside from a bit of healthy speculation, the scientific explanations are left almost entirely out of this tale. It might make this section of the guide a little dull, but it does wonders for a monster action flick. Even so, the makers of the Latin name for the critter picked a good one. If I’m not mistaken, the genus designation Caederus is derived from caedes or caedo, both words having to do with killing, slaughter, carnage, etc. Yay!

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: They Crawl

They Crawl (2001)
Critter: Genetically engineered cockroaches that completely resemble the cinematic Madagascar Hissing Cockroach, let’s call them Gromphadorhina portentosa var. conspiritatus
Size: Singly, about 2 inches long, en masse as big as a mac truck
Modus Operandi: Burrow and eat
How the Menace Emerges: The government is surprised when two physics geeks decipher and solve their blueprints for deadly surveillance bugs… or are they?
End Goal: Who cares!

I should retract all of the nasty things I have said about such gems as Mesa of the Lost Women and The Horrors of Spider Island. I hadn’t seen one of these new fangled bug flicks in a while, and I had forgotten how much worse things could be in this new age of CGI. They Crawl is one of the lowest forms of invertebrate film I’ve run across: a budget and nothing to show for it. Its better than B-grade production value only guarantees that it won’t even hit the campy-charm sweet spot. This mediocre movie is essentially an unending TV police procedural with glaring plot holes, a red herring cult, sub par TV soap opera stars, horrible CGI and inane dialogue parading as edgy. Do two characters have nothing better to say at the moments of their separate, impending demises than “Fuck you!” with eyes squinted in their best Clint Eastwood impersonations or did the scriptwriter just like that one enough to use it twice? It’s odd that with a visual effects guy in the director’s seat that not even the special effects are worth a peek. The handful of poor cockroaches that wasted their valuable time on this film are quickly tossed aside to make room for their ineffectual and utterly un-insect-like CGI replacements. Uggggh.

Nit-picking Science: Hey, encryption-boy! You have vastly overestimated the mass of insects on the planet! Although I am unaware of a decent estimate, 90% of Earth’s biomass is unlikely to consist of insects. Sure, ants and termites might make up about a third of forest biomass, but what about bacteria, protozoa and plants? And you, Mr. Coroner. Frequencies can't electrocute people. Stick to bodies and leave the physics up to the professionals.

Field guide to Invertebrates in Film: The Horrors of Spider Island

Horrors of Spider Island (1960)
Critter: The dreaded tropical five-fingered monkey spider and its mutant creation, Gary
Size: About Chihuahua-sized, man-sized
Modus Operandi: One bite from this critter will either kill you or turn you into a hairy faced, toothy thing that likes to run around shirtless
How the Menace Emerges: Our crew of dancing gals encounters this undescribed spider species after they are stranded on deserted island
End Goal: Hard to say, neither critter seems to eat

Hmmmm. Let’s see, what if a plane wrecked in the middle of the ocean with 8 buxom dancing girls and you were the only guy? You might enjoy the strip-joint sax soundtrack, but watch out, you’re on an island with an oddly buck-toothed spider sporting monkey paws, and soon you’ll become a were-spider-monkey more interested in strangling than making out. That’s the German sexploitation wonder that is The Horrors of Spider Island (a.k.a. A Corpse Hangs in the Web or It’s Hot in Paradise). Here, the sexploitation comes first, catfights, cattiness and skinny-dipping all trump horror, critters and critter attacks. When we finally get some monster action, there’s only about 10 minutes of film left. Once we discover that the barely mutated spider-monkey-were-man is afraid of flares, and barely remembers his lost human self, poof: we’ve reached the sorriest of all endings.
When I viewed Mesa of Lost Women, I had to add a drop my rating scale a notch (to zero) to hold such a wretched film. Still, with its leering dwarves, it had more charm than this piece of schlock. Even for a cheap sexploitation film, The Horrors of Spider Island sets a new low. Granted, the version I’ve seen had been burned from a video transfer, trimmed to remove the nudie bits and terribly dubbed, but I still doubt that a crisp, restored version of this would help one whit.
Nit-picking Science: Science? What science?

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Feast of the Praying Mantis

Feast of the Praying Mantis (2003)
Critter: Mantoidia sapiens var. plantii
Size: About 5 feet 8 inches tall
Modus Operandi: Woos victims with a bouquet of flowers, then sexes them to death
How the Menace Emerges: A mystery. Apparently this species is only found in the south (in Belgium I presume), but exists throughout time as illustrated by the lamest epilogue scene I’ve ever seen.
End Goal: Sex and death

The Feast of the Praying Mantis is a different kind of terrible bug film than I’m used to. Rather than settling comfortably into being a slow, Euro-art film or a cheeky B-movie, it attempts to straddle the line of both, achieving nothing by its compromise. The film is about Sylvia (Get it? She’s a nature girl because her name means “of the forest”! Yawn!) an immortal, critter who seems to be a hybrid between a humanoid, a vine and a praying mantis. She can talk to Doberman pincers and plants, likes to have tarantulas walk on her and is an excellent gardener. Oh, and she’s also really into S & M. The plot is carried out through the barbiturate-induced voiceover of her bewitched, cello-playing boyfriend who is willing to anything to actually sleep with her. In the first line of the film, we learn that he is dead, while near the end, he tells us that he’s in oblivion. Who knew that they could record droll voiceovers from oblivion? Add to the mix a bit of bad and pointless CGI (a dove bursting into flames and a swarm of green dots that please Sylvia for no apparent reason), superfluous melodrama from subsidiary characters and tedious sex scenes, and you have a big waste of time.

Nit-picking Science: There’s no science in Feast of the Praying Mantis for me to pick apart, so instead, I’ll just talk a bit about Fabre. The film opens with a quote from Jean Henri Fabre’s incredible 1921 work Fabre’s Book of Insects. Fabre was an observant naturalist and an excellent writer, and his Book of Insects is a wonderfully written look at some of the most intriguing critters he studied. While the language is too anthropomorphic to pass for science in today’s standards and much of his observations have been disproved, it is a delightful read nonetheless. Talking of the praying mantis, Fabre said “The Mantis, I fear, has no heart. She eats her husband, and deserts her children.” Now that’s the film I wanted to see.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Kingdom of the Spiders

Kingdom of the Spiders (1977)
Critter: Once again, our fine, photogenic friends from the Theraphosidae family
Size: 4-5 inches in diameter
Modus Operandi: Swarms of deadly tarantulas overwhelm a victim with multiple venomous bites
How the Menace Emerges: Through the overuse of pesticides, humanity has eliminated the majority of the spiders’ typical food supply. Desperate to survive, the spiders evolve social behavior and venom 5 times stronger than their pre-pesticide days, enabling them to take down cows, puppies and people.
End Goal: Dinner

Kingdom of the Spiders is yet another entry into the 1970s eco-horror, critter attacks subgenre. No more, no less. It’s a bit slow, but there’s a spider panic riot at the end that’s worth sticking around for. The laughable William Shatner delivers an uncharacteristically understated performance as Dr. Rack Hansen, veterinarian to the farming folk of sleepy Verde Valley, AZ. When blood samples from a dead calf are sent off to Flagstaff, Dr. Denise Ashley, a sharp and strangely glamorous entomologist with big-city sensibilities and a knack for rebuking the patronizing flirtations of local yokel Hansen, enters the scene. Unfortunately, she soon crumbles under Hansen’s freakishly redneck come-ons and before long, I kid you not, she is fetching his beer. The venerable Woody Strode (Once Upon a Time in the West, The Professionals, Sergeant Rutledge) makes an excellent, sympathetic appearance that is cut far too short. Another unlikely appearance is on the soundtrack. Country/rockabilly icon Dorsey Burnette was somehow convinced to record the soundtrack, contributing four fine songs to this mess of a film.

At least the makers of Kingdom of the Spiders spent their meager budget well. According to IMDB, $50,000 went to spiders alone. That may explain how the final scene became a zoom out on a somewhat lame drawing, rather than something that could have conveyed the creepiness that they were after. It’s just too bad that a number of these fine furry actors and actresses were obviously squashed in the filming.

Nit-picking Science: Dr. Ashley, you stated that no members of the infraorder Mygalomorphae are remotely social, but oh how mistaken you are. Surely, you read Drachen’s 1967 paper describing the quasi-social behavior of the funnel-web tarantula Macrothele darcheni (Family: Hexathelidae). Or perhaps you’ve heard about the tarantula Hysterocrates gigas (Family: Theraphosidae) whose juveniles have been observed feeding cooperatively. Social behavior may be rare in spiders, and even rarer in Mygalomorphae, but it ain’t unheard of. And another thing, your comprehension of the long-term effects of DDT on arthropods is despicable, misleading and makes the rest of us look stupid. Individual spiders do not develop immunity to DDT, but populations of spiders may develop genetic DDT resistance over multiple generations. I suggest you consult an undergrad Biology textbook to discern the difference between Lamarck’s discredited theory of acquired characters and Darwin’s brilliant theory of natural selection before you mouth off again.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Slugs, Muerte Viscosa

Slugs, Muerte Viscosa (1988)
Critter: Mutant members of the order Pulmonata
Size: Huge, for slugs- about 6 inches long, on average
Modus Operandi: Traveling in slimy packs, the slugs burrow into the victim and eat them
How the Menace Emerges: Sometime in the distant past in this sleepy town, and evil corporation dumped all of their toxic waste into the soil, mutating the native, harmless slugs into vicious killers.
End Goal: Dinner

“You ain’t got the authority to declare Happy Birthday, not in this town.”

I’m a sucker for even the worst eco-horror flick (yes, I’m even fond of The Milipitas Monster). In Slugs, it’s true that the acting is terrible, the dialogue is awkwardly nonsensical and that much of the narrative is just ridiculous. Still, Slugs was a fantastically fun romp through amazing critter and gore effects, topped off with an excellent visual sense and decent cinematography (for a B-critter flick).

The effects are delightfully practical ones in Slugs, with plenty of competent prosthetics and titillating gore. When it counts, real slugs in all of their black, slimy glamour are introduced in large enough numbers to seem ominous. Of course, the scene that stole my heart is the stop motion one seen above. Those little un-sluglike teeth and tongue were just too perfect.

This was directed by the little mentioned J.P. Simon (Pod People, Cthulhu Mansion), whose anglicized name hides his Spanish origins. Apparently, he’s been a sort of Spanish B-movie king since the 80s, and Slugs impressed me enough to seek out more of his B-movie delights.
“Killah slugs, for christsakes! Whaddal it be next? Demented Crickets? Rampaging Mosquitas, Maybe?” Yes please, Mr. Simon.

Nit-picking Science: Another thing that softens me to Slugs is that someone did their homework. Yes, there are predatory slugs and yes, while snails are more commonly the carriers of the icky Schistosoma parasite, slugs can too. Aside from a bit of artistic license, (e.g. slug eggs are usually laid in clumps, not in singles) the science in Slugs is better than it should be.

Field Guide to Invertebrates: Parasite

Parasite (1982)
Critter: Unclassifed ecto-/endo-parasite of human hosts
Size: It starts small, but eventually gets about Chihuahua sized
Modus Operandi: This is a bit complicated, since the two specimens in the film behaved entirely differently- Specimen A: Burrows into gut, eats host from inside, eventually exploding from barely-living host’s gut, releasing millions of reproductive spores; Specimen B: Attaches to host’s exterior with 6 suction cups arranges in 2 rows of 3, drains all of victim’s blood and moves on to a new host.
How the Menace Emerges: The evil corporation that runs the world had them engineered by a parasitologist for nefarious purposes
End Goal: Kill, Kill, Kill!
It’s the 1980s and CGI has yet to be invented. Ahhh, practical effects, how I miss you so! The critter effects in Parasite were created by a super crew of Stan Winston (Aliens, Monster Squad, Jurassic Park), Jim Kagel (The Thing (1982), Running on Karma) and Lance Anderson (The Thing (1982), Pet Semetary) and it shows. In fact, the critters are the only parts of Parasite that are truly worthwhile. After all, Charles Band (better known as a producer of the Puppetmaster series and head of Full Moon Pictures), is not known for making fine films. Other than a crazy dream sequence and some fine critter moments, this movie is a run of the mill 80s post apocalyptic affair, with nonsensical gangs of thugs and expensive petrol. Parasite was originally shown in 3D, and some of the scenes tailored for this type of showing look a bit silly when they are flat. One such scene focuses in on a pipe jutting out of a dead thug’s stomach and seems to pay homage to one of my favorite scenes from 1979’s Tourist Trap, which I don’t mind at all. Since Band was the producer of Tourist Trap, I suppose we can’t call it “ripping off”. Just as a side note, this is one of Demi Moore’s first films, and her only real purpose here seems to be to look concerned and be slapped around.

Nit-picking Science: I don’t know what it is with you movie scientists and your love of auditory pest control. What the hell did taking a “fluid” sample and exposing it to various frequencies actually tell you?

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Kiss of the Tarantula

Kiss of the Tarantula (1976)
Critter: Sure looks like Brachypelma smithi to me, the cinematic queen of tarantulas
Size: Large, about hand-sized
Modus Operandi: Looking very creepy, causing heart failure or panicked accidents
How the Menace Emerges: Sent out into the world…for revenge
End Goal: Death, destruction, mayhem and a nice tasty cricket or two

Kiss of the Tarantula is just another installation in the 70s arty-horror cannon- not too good, but not too bad, either. I’m fond of the less splatter-driven parts of this genre, with its feeble attempts at artiness, lack of comeuppance, sympathy for the monster and generally disaffected cynicism. Our monster in this case is a spin off from Carrie without the supernatural mumbo jumbo and Willard. After murdering her spider-hating, adulterous siren of a mother, Susan (Suzanna Ling in her only IMDB entry) grows up to be an odd, reclusive gal with an inordinate fondness for red-legged tarantulas. Still, the world is not kind to kooky girls, and between being harassed by her over 30 year old classmates and molested by her creepy uncle (a murderous, adulterous cop, the lecherous swine!), she really has no choice but to turn to her furry little pals for help.
The highlights of the film, which are too few, are the scenes in which Susan unleashes her creep army on unsuspecting victims in tight spaces.

Nit-picking Science: For the first time, I have no nit-picking. Although there’s no science in the film for me to pick apart, I must comment on their good judgment nonetheless. Rather than pretending that tarantulas are chock full of venom deadly to humans (which of course they aren’t), Kiss of the Tarantulas lets them be instruments of death through their natural inclination to creep us out. Good job, sirs!

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: The Black Belly of the Tarantula

Black Belly of the Tarantula (1971)
Critter: Venom from a Tarantula Wasp (Hymenoptera: Pompilidae)
Size: Never seen in the film, but they can be up to 2 inches long
Modus Operandi: How these gals are milked for their venom is never said, but the venom is placed on an acupuncture needle. The needle is then placed into the victim’s neck at the base of the skull, paralyzing her while our killer slices away.
How the Menace Emerges: Well, telling you would ruin the mystery, wouldn’t it?
End Goal: Most likely, the real victims here are the wasps, who would much rather be stinging spiders for their little ones. Poor little gals.

This little giallo gem is a highlight of the genre. For you giallo purists, the black gloves have been replaced by surgical gloves, but there’s still plenty of the genre’s trademark blood and boobs. There are also plenty of hair-brained twists, red herrings and mysterious, hidden identity hand/voice scenes. Despite containing all of the giallo clichés and tropes, The Black Belly of the Tarantula stands out as an outstandingly filmed example of the genre. Pop art and 60s mod kitsch are the dominant visual themes throughout, and off kilter edits and pans add to the film’s angular charm. It doesn’t hurt that it’s also scored by Ennio Morricone, with a soundtrack that’s creepy, cheesy, beautiful and just plain odd in equal measures.
Note that the tarantula belly mentioned in the title is not the source of this film’s inclusion in the Invertebrate Field Guide. The lady victims (including 3 Bond girls) are the tarantulas who get their bellies carved, although our photogenic, furry pals can be seen guarding little boxes of cocaine in one scene. Instead, it is our little unseen wasps who provide the murder with his ideal weapon and myself with a reason to review The Black Belly of the Tarantula here.

Nit-picking Science: Silly Professor, I don’t know how you got a film of a bee stinging a non-tarantula spider, but I’d like you to tell me why you are showing it while talking about the tarantula wasp stinging tarantulas. Not only that, the wasp doesn’t disembowel the spider in order to lay her eggs. She merely paralyzes the spider before laying an egg on the surface of the spider. It is the larvae who do the disemboweling from the inside. Inspector Tellini, I wouldn’t expect you to know that spiders are not insects, but you should slap the old Professor for lying to you.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Slither

Slither (2006)
Critter: Parthenogenic space slug
Size: It starts out small at about 6 inches, but wait until it aggregates
Modus Operandi: Like many parasites, our space slug has a complicated life cycle. Initially, it enters a male human, burrows into his brain and gives him an ungodly carnivorous urge, multiple icky looking sores and growths, incredible speed and tentacles. He then impregnates a female human with billions of copies of the space slug. She too has an insatiable need for meat to nurture her little ones. When the space slug larvae complete their development, they burst out and seek new host brains.
How the Menace Emerges: An asteroid, of course
End Goal: Food, reproduction, world domination

Since it has been a couple of weeks since I’ve posted a real review, I thought I’d actually toss out a good film for once. Without any hesitation, I say that Slither is one of the best horror flicks to come out of the 2000s. Strangely, much of its charm comes from the fact that it harkens back to a more fun-filled time in horror but with a fresh take. Despite the fact that it’s chock full of nods to the greats that made the 70s and 80s such fun for horror fans (Carpenter, Cronenberg, Henenlotter), Slither outclasses the crappy fanboy pastiche that we’ve come to expect from the likes of Tarantino, Eli Roth and Rob Zombie. Rising out of the world of Troma, James Gunn (Writer of Tromeo & Juliet and Terror Firmer) has crafted a truly fun and truly creepy horror flick, and I hope he gets to do it again sometime soon. The one-liners are instant classics that ease out naturally and catch you off guard. The critter effects are manifested through an excellent blend of practical and digital effects and are thoughtful, convincing, gross and creepy, often at the same time. On top of that, Slither has a great script, with a rarity in horror: well-developed characters played by excellent actors. Although Gregg Henry (Lots of TV) steals the show as the ornery mayor with a sailor’s mouth, all of the actors come across as memorable and nearly naturalistic. Michael Rooker (Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) is as creepy in his own skin as in the monster prosthetics, yet somehow manages to invoke sympathy, Frankenstein’s monster-style. While not quite matching the caliber of a Henenlotter or Cronenberg, Gunn is a young kid who might be going places rather than one of the greats who has already proved his mettle and just gets better with age. Slither might be as good as it gets on the big screen these days, and that’s not too bad.

Nit-picking Science: Starla, the genus Homo may have split from our ancestors about 2.5 - 2 million years ago, but Homo sapiens didn’t spring up until about 250,000 – 200,000 years ago. Same with the cockroaches: Blattoptera may date to 350 million years ago, but our little roach pals didn’t truly arise until about 150 million years ago.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: The Cameraman's Revenge

The Cameraman's Revenge (1912)
Critter: Ladislas Starevich
Size: 13 minutes long
Modus Operandi: Stop-motion animation using bug parts
How the Menace Emerges: Finding actual, live bugs to be terrible actors, Starevich killed them, turned them into tiny puppets and made them behave.
End Goal: Surreal tales of life, love and infidelity as told through insects

Since I still have way too much on my plate this week, I haven’t had the chance to sit and watch a new bug flick. Instead, you get another short film! The Cameraman’s Revenge is one of dozens of fantastic stop-motion animation films by the Russian genius of the genre, Ladislas Starevich. Enjoy!

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Green Porno

Green Porno (2008, 2009)

Critter: Isabella Rossellini

Size: Tiny

Modus Operandi: Posts small films that amuse, educate and creep you out

How the Menace Emerges: Sundance supported the creation of two seasons of these delighful shorts

End Goal: Edutainment!

Since I'm bombarded with all sorts of school-related responsibilities this week, I have no time for a full length invertebrate flick. Instead, I bring you Isabella Rossellini's Green Porno. Her first season was dedicated entirely to terrestrial invertebrates. Learn about the mating habits of the fly, the bee, the spider, the earthworn, the snail, the firefly and the praying mantis. Even though season 2 centers on marine life, you can still get your invertebrate fix with the sex lives of the starfish, the barnacle and the limpet. Check out the rest of them here. It's worth it.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: Beginning of the End

Beginning of the End (1957)
Critter: Gigantic mutant grasshoppers in the Family Acrididae
Size: Bus-sized
Modus Operandi: Chomping with razor sharp mandibles
How the Menace Emerges: A USDA agricultural research project investigating enlarging vegetables to feed the world goes awry when grasshoppers sneak in for a munch
End Goal: Dinner

Beginning of the End is the aptly titled second feature from the king of the gianormous, Mr. B.I.G. (Earth vs. the Spider, Empire of the Ants). This time, an agricultural experiment using radioactive isotopes to improve crop yield goes haywire. Grasshoppers that fed upon the gigantic tomatoes and strawberries respond very well to the radiation in their snack and grow to enormous size. They consume an entire town in southern Illinois before heading off to Chicago for some real fun.

Mr. B.I.G. uses his characteristic back projection to inject the enormous fiends into the scene, and for the most part it’s pretty effective. Although grasshoppers are typically not scary when we encounter them in reality, these gigantic ones climbing up photographs of Chicago’s skyscrapers and peeking in the windows would scare the pants off most of us, no matter how herbivorous we knew them to really be. As an interesting side note: this was filmed in California, which even in 1957 had very strict importation regulations against potential agricultural pests. The 300 grasshoppers that star in Beginning of the End were brought in from Texas, where they know how to grow ‘em big. Since they could escape from the set and create a much more miniaturized, but still pesky mayhem in CA, only males were allowed to be brought into the state.

Peter Graves (Night of the Hunter, It Conquered the World) stars as the entomologist responsible for the disaster and determined to fight the military with science until all is well in the world once more. He is joined in his quest by Peggie Castle (White Orchid), who starts out as an independent, star journalist after a scoop, but winds up a meek girlfriend-type by the end. Despite her character flaws, Beginning of the End is punchy and rolls right along. While nothing close to Them! caliber, it would make a fine Saturday afternoon pastime for you B-movie folks.

Nit-picking Science: Dr. Wainwright, I think you’re exaggerating the communication & social capacity of these guys. Rather than working together to devour everything as a team, these guys are usually solitary. When they get too cramped, little hairs on their legs get rubbed, and they go nuts, undergoing a Jekyll and Hyde-style transformation that turns them into an army of destruction. Just as a side note, serotonin has been experimentally implicated as the possible neurotransmitter responsible for this change.

Field Guide to Invertebrates in Film: The Swarm

The Swarm (1978)
Critter: Africanized Killer bees, a hybrid between the vicious African honeybee Apis mellifera scutellata and one of the infinitely adorable and helpful European honeybees A. mellifera ligustica, carnica or caucasia
Size: About 3/4 inch in length individually, but en masse, as big as a small town.
Modus Operandi: Attack in large numbers and kill with unbelievably potent poison stings. As few as 3 stings can kill you.
How the Menace Emerges: Sick of life down south, the bees decided to hit Texas.
End Goal: After taking over Houston, the bees just want a peaceful life of beeness with no homo sapiens in the way

Packing the cast with such notables as Shelley Winters (Night of the Hunter), Richard Widmark (Night and the City), Slim Pickens (Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid), Henry Fonda (Once Upon a Time in the West) and Fred MacMurray (Double Indemnity), The Swarm is another disaster of a disaster film from Irwin Allen. Coming straight off of his made-for-TV Fire! and Flood!, the “master of realism” is back with another “man against nature fight for survival”. This time the menace is the dreaded Africanized honey bee, and only entomologist Michael Caine (The Muppet Christmas Carol) can save the day. Despite the danger being of such small stature, Allen still finds a way to pack in a ton of his patented disaster footage, most notably a spectacular train wreck and a man jumping out of a window on the 60th floor of an office building entirely engulfed in flames. No matter how well rendered these spectacular effects were, I was much more enamored with the victims’ cheap hallucinations of enormous bees and the slow-motion scenes of children dying as they run in terror from these wee terrors. Thankfully, Allen spared no expense in the bee department. About a billion real live bees were invited onto the set, and that’s a sight to see!

Unfortunately, the bees are the only real draw in this overwrought piece of schlock. Sure, there’s a certain fascination with seeing Widmark as a grumpy old man completely in touch with his lines when they rip someone a new one, yet bored senseless when his lines just advance the plot, but all in all, Allen takes his characters too seriously to treat them as badly as he does. First, he gives them too many subplots drenched in sickly sweet sentimentality than the flimsy story could possibly handle, and then he just drops them in the first train wreck he can squeeze in. Given that Allen had the balls to drag this piece of trash out for 156 minutes, you’d think he could have given Slim Pickens just a bit more screen time.

Nit-picking Science: Rather than dissect the many things that The Swarm got wrong about Killer Bees, I’ll just mention this one as a public service: There is no such bee that delivers some weird venom that will kill you in just 3-4 stings. (Unless you’re unlucky enough to be allergic, and seeing that less than 1% of the population has this allergy, you should consider yourself very unlucky if you’re in that camp.) Here in North America, Killer Bees have been slowly migrating northward from Brazil, where Dr. Warwick Kerr, a real mad scientist, accidentally unleashed them back in 1956. They are distinguishable from cute, fuzzy honeybees only by behavioral differences. Unlike our helpful honeybee, Killer Bees are just downright mean. They’ll chase you for up to half of a mile, and if they catch you, you’ll get a whole lot more than 4 stings. Now why can't anyone make a film as cool as the real thing?