In “Sting,” a thriller about a giant spider growing up in Brooklyn that is raunchy, bloody and (most importantly) very gooey, Sting is the name given by Charlotte (Alyla Browne), a precocious teenager, to the stylish two. two centimeter long black spider that turns into her pet (she keeps it in a jar and feeds it with insects). But given the amount of slaughter caused by this omnivorous arachnid, which gets bigger and bigger with each feeding, the nickname seems like a huge understatement. It’s as if Jason Vorhees was named “Paper Reduce.”
“Sting” is a little slice of horror film that is tongue-in-cheek but also quite matter-of-fact in its signature creature joke. It’s the monster bug thriller as light dessert. The spider, it turns out, is an alien – after a grotesque prologue with lots of “Evil Dead” camera moves, the film cuts to four days earlier, when a fiery meteorite crashes through the roof of a house and crashes into a house. of dolls inside the home of Helga (Noni Hazlehurst), a grumpy German grandmother with dementia. A pod that looks like a gelatinous jewel opens like a Venus flytrap and crawls out the spider, which walks and, at times, practically dances around the dollhouse during the opening credits.
The film is the most byproduct possible. But because writer-director Kiah Roache-Turner is, in all fairness, shrewd about what he’s stealing, “Sting” is kind of likeable for that reason alone. It’s a rollicking riff on “Alien” crossed with components from “The Shining.” But in a strange approach, the image whose spirit most evokes is “Little Shop of Horrors” (not the musical, but the original 1960 model).
It’s always fun to play the game “What was the first horror movie?” On some metaphysical level, the answer will always be “Psychopath.” But if you say: What was the first horror movie in terms of all the repetitive gloom Who would be the next to die? In tone and construction of it all, the films people typically turn to are “Black Christmas” (1974) and, before that, Mario Bava’s “A Bay of Blood” (1971), which predicted slasherdom in a tongue-in-cheek way. . The film was so logical and inept that it presaged the formulaic high quality that ended up defining the genre.
You could argue, however, that the authentic The first horror film was “Little Shop of Horrors”. After all, the entire film was nonsense, a schizoid Vaudeville horror burlesque shot in two days and one night by Roger Corman. But Audrey, the killer plant, still qualifies in spirit as the ultimate destroyer – an exemplary icon of serial murder, with a janitor who is the film’s hero and therefore makes you wonder: whose side is he on? The same goes for Charlotte, the avidly loving spider-feeder played by Alyla Browne, who is Nicole Kidman’s daughter. The spider keeps eating and its prey keeps getting bigger: first the bugs, then a parakeet (which it leaves wanting to be skinned), then the drunken Spanish widow below. Each murder is served simply as it is: a meal. At the moment when Sting begins to wrap his victims in large webs made of greenish slime, some of the main characters are hanging there, suspended, especially because the film is suspended between goosebumps and laughter.
The spider, created with digital models and effects, is fun to watch; sometimes the film works like “Alien” with a piece of origami in the middle. The creature looks more real when it is smaller, but as it gets larger, its jaws appear more sexual. As for the domestic drama, it’s all about whether or not Charlotte and her cool stepfather, Ethan (Ryan Corr), can be taught to get along. They’re creating a comic book together, but he’s the building’s superhero, working for Gunter (Robyn Nevin), his wife’s cartoon Teutonic aunt, and his anguish of existence begins to chip away at his fragile ego. masculine. . It will take nothing less than fighting the now-giant spider to bring the family together. “Sting” is nothing more than a cheese bagatelle, but at least the film knows that.
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