For anyone with even the slightest fear of spiders, the thought of being trapped inside an apartment building overrun by the eight-legged creatures is probably enough to induce a cold sweat. It’s a premise that practically writes itself, and one that Crawlers, the latest addition to the increasingly crowded arachnid horror subgenre, wastes little time exploiting. There’s certainly something to be said for a film that knows its audience and understands the visceral discomfort of watching something small, hairy and potentially deadly scuttle across an unsuspecting victim’s skin.
Unfortunately, whilst director Angel Gómez Hernández proves reasonably adept at generating that skin-crawling sensation, his film struggles to offer much beyond it. It’s dumb fun, certainly, but there’s a point where the stupidity begins to outweigh the enjoyment, and Crawlers crosses that line more often than it probably intends.
Matilda Lutz stars as Serena, an aspiring musician working as the maintenance manager of a dilapidated apartment complex where malfunctioning facilities and increasingly unpleasant tenants are the least of her concerns. When a resident dies under particularly gruesome circumstances, health authorities swiftly quarantine the building, leaving its inhabitants trapped inside with a rapidly multiplying infestation of venomous spiders. It’s a wonderfully straightforward setup, and the film initially benefits from its confined setting and colourful assortment of residents, most of whom seem deliberately designed to test our patience before inevitably becoming spider food. Lutz makes for a suitably resourceful and sympathetic heroine, lending Serena a degree of emotional credibility that the surrounding material rarely earns. Her attempts to navigate personal grief and connect with a younger resident provide fleeting moments of humanity, even if these threads feel somewhat misplaced amid the escalating carnage.
Where Crawlers proves most frustrating, however, is in its apparent reluctance to deliver on the very spectacle it so enthusiastically promises. Hernández repeatedly constructs elaborate scenarios that seem destined to culminate in gloriously grotesque deaths, only to pull away at the crucial moment or leave the nastiest details frustratingly unseen. For a film so eager to embrace its own ridiculousness, there’s something strangely restrained about its approach to the actual carnage.
The practical and digital effects are often convincing enough to make the spiders genuinely unsettling, but the repetitive nature of their attacks gradually diminishes their impact. There’s only so much mileage to be gained from watching another unfortunate resident discover something crawling where it shouldn’t be, particularly when the anticipated payoff rarely matches the buildup. The film moves at an almost breathless pace from the outset, yet somehow manages to feel increasingly monotonous as the body count rises.
There’s also an uncertainty of tone that prevents Crawlers from ever finding a particularly satisfying rhythm. At times, it appears to be embracing the knowingly absurd sensibilities of a creature feature like Eight Legged Freaks, complete with exaggerated personalities, broad humour and moments of deliberate silliness. Elsewhere, it seems determined to position itself as a genuinely nasty survival thriller, complete with grim imagery and an occasionally mean-spirited streak. Neither approach is inherently problematic, but the film never quite manages to reconcile the two.
Its half-hearted gestures towards pandemic-era paranoia and institutional distrust suggest an interest in something more substantial, though these ideas are largely abandoned in favour of another frantic encounter with the increasingly aggressive arachnids. Comparisons to the considerably more accomplished Infested are inevitable, and unfortunately do Crawlers few favours, particularly when it comes to sustaining tension and making its confined environment feel genuinely oppressive.
That’s not to suggest Crawlers is entirely without merit. There are a handful of effectively uncomfortable sequences, some amusingly unpleasant supporting characters, and a committed central performance from Lutz that helps maintain interest even when the screenplay begins running out of ideas. Arachnophobes will undoubtedly find plenty to squirm over, and those approaching the film with suitably lowered expectations may appreciate its unapologetically trashy sensibilities. But there’s a difference between a horror film that knowingly embraces its stupidity and one that uses it as an excuse for underdeveloped characters, inconsistent storytelling and disappointingly timid payoffs.
Crawlers occasionally threatens to become the sort of gloriously gruesome B-movie that earns a cult following through sheer audacity, only to retreat whenever things might get truly outrageous. It’s creepy enough to have you checking the corners of your bedroom afterwards, but not nearly inventive, funny or nasty enough to leave much of a lasting impression. Eight legs, plenty of potential, and disappointingly little bite.
TWO STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Crawlers is now screening in Australian theatres.
