Sting (2024)

Score: 3 / 5

Another killer spider movie in the same year? Why not?! Sting is a far cry from the French socio-political semi-realistic nightmare fuel that is Infested, but that doesn't mean it's not a heck of a lot of fun on its own weird terms. 

Its plot, as described, is annoyingly familiar: Charlotte, a pre-teen plagued with ennui (played by Alyla Browne), finds an unusual-looking spider in her great-aunt's apartment and decides to keep it as a pet. It grows alarmingly quickly and develops a predatory, carnivorous appetite, requiring Charlotte and her family to fight for their lives. Ugh. Monster movies are tough, because you want to either really have them represent something specific or feel unique. "Sting," as Charlotte names her pet, is not unique, so we have to suspect it stands for something regarding her, such as childhood trauma or puberty or something.

But a rote plot does not a movie break. This B-movie knows exactly what it is and introduces itself to us as such immediately. There's a fun, almost Spielbergian quality to its opening sequence, loaded with bizarre scares and deadpan gallows humor, and then we flashback to an inciting incident: a little green meteorite burns through the atmosphere before crash landing in an old woman's apartment. Specifically, in her dollhouse. From the smoking shell comes forth a spider that crawls around the dollhouse while opening credits manifest around it. It's all very clever and fun, like if Little Shop of Horrors and Hereditary had an arachnoid bent.

The film's thematic concerns eschew real issues such as gentrification, xenophobia, classism, sexism, and conflict between rural, urban, and suburban communities, any of which can and have been used in other stories. Rather, this one makes things domestic and private, focusing tightly on Charlotte and her stepfather (hardworking, somewhat absent, artistically inclined), mother with whom she never quite sees eye to eye, and baby brother. Perhaps I didn't care about the emotional core of this story simply because I didn't like Charlotte; willfully rebellious kids taking full advantage of parents beyond their means never intrigue me beyond irritation. If you're into characters like her, you might be more interested in their strained relationship and how it exacerbates the plot and pending horror.

Instead of those elements, I absorbed the shock and excesses of the traditionally scary moments of this bizarre flick. I wouldn't go so far as to qualify the filmmakers' approach as camp, but it definitely feels more than a little inspired by Grand Guignol aesthetics. The face-value scares indeed pop out at you, often glistening and gritty and palpably gross (thanks in no small part to creature effects from Weta Workshop). But it's the fairly brightly lit film that is most surprising and effective. This is not the Gothic, shadowy fever dream that is Infested. This is a jewel-toned, active camera romp through an R-rated haunted house. Case in point: (SPOILER ALERT) there is a single shot that had me gagging and laughing at the same time, as Charlotte rounds a corner and sees a cat, splayed and frozen in a midair web, eviscerated and looking like if Mrs. Norris had been dissected, not petrified, by Ginny Weasley. What should be deeply sad is so alarmingly posed and lit that your discomfort has to allow for a choking guffaw. That's a tough tone to craft from a filmmaking perspective.

That level of polish permeates the film, demonstrating that its creators knew full well the trappings of the material and wanted to both honor and elevate it above its station. Sting -- the alien spider -- itself is relatively unimportant to the story; it could just as easily be a pet lion or gator or dragon that Charlotte raised in secret to soothe her adolescent mind. But the giant flesh-eating spider from space helps cross generic boundaries while literally draping the set in its atmospheric snares.

Flat characters doing exactly what you expect them to, and without much thematic conceit to drive them, makes the film fall pretty flat in context of what has come before. But Sting is a spooky, icky, breezy way to pass the time as we get ready to turn away from summer horror to autumn horror. Its credulity-straining narrative turns notwithstanding, a handful of violent, horrifying visuals and some dynamic cinematography certainly make it more than watchable. And Jermaine Fowler even joins in the fun!

The Blackening (2023)

Score: 4.5 / 5

What better way to observe Juneteenth in yet another year of our country going to hell than by celebrating Blackness in a genre notorious for excluding or disrespecting Black characters, and in a stereotypical summer horror setting? The Blackening takes more than its fair share of inspiration from the Scary Movie series and SNL sketches -- I've never even seen Scary Movie, but any knowledge of that beloved/bemoaned series will tell you all you need to know -- but it's also fully a film in its own right, one that knows exactly what it is and who it's for. Which is to say that it's a masterful horror-comedy for everyone, and specifically for Black audiences who want to enjoy seeing Black characters navigating their way through ridiculous, scary, and hilarious situations while in a safe and jubilant communal setting. It's why Jordan Peele named his most recent film Nope, after all, not to mention the tangible traces of Spike Lee littered here.

The story -- and indeed there is one here, rather than a string of sketches loosely held together by relevant dialogue -- concerns a group of college friends reuniting for a Juneteenth party. Knowingly, they are doing something a little unusual by renting a remote cabin in the woods for their gathering. Two of their number arrived previously to start setting up, and the other six follow the next day, though the first two are nowhere to be found; perhaps they went out for more supplies. The group spend their afternoon setting up, catching up, and playing Spades until growing suspicious of their friends' absence. When a door pops open leading them into a bizarre game room, things finally coalesce thanks to a board game entitled "The Blackening" with a cartoonish blackface mask as its centerpiece. The game speaks to them, and soon the friends find themselves antagonized by a murderous racist.

Even with just this early sequence, the notetaking viewer will have to stop because it's impossible to catch all the references. The situation alone distinctly recalls Scream (the opening sequence is of the first two friends and a voice inviting them to play a deadly game), The Evil Dead, Ready or Not, You're Next, and The Cabin in the Woods, to say nothing of all the spoken references (including a notable Scream 2 guffaw-inducing exchange). Things escalate quickly into the realm of Saw and The Strangers, but this movie manages to use those tropes to distinctly new effect, crafting its own flavor for the otherwise generic proceedings. This is primarily due to the dialogue, which is so rapid-fire and brilliant I'd have to watch multiple times to catch everything; I probably still wouldn't catch everything even with subtitles, as so much of the film revolves around the characters' knowledge of Black culture to survive the game's questions as well as its real-life complications.

What do I mean? Apart from its demands of knowing which Black characters have indeed survived the end of a horror film (a concept from which the film's marketing tagline of "We can't all die first" gets great mileage), the film requires knowledge of dark-skinned characters in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air or Black guest actors on Friends, cultural touchpoints that only a certain range of millennial would really know at this point (I sure didn't!). When the killer finally materializes, he's certainly white, as his racist "Sambo" mask (and distinct throwback to Leatherface) indicates, and things take a turn toward slasher movie territory. But the need for street smarts and racial awareness does not stop here, perhaps most clearly when Ranger White -- yes, Ranger White -- shows up to dubiously help out. Even later, when the group splits up, much to their own chagrin and disdain, one pair find themselves needing to cross a pond, and one flaunts stereotypes by being able to swim across, though as the scene plays out, it's not so clear whether that was helpful or even relevant.

It should be a mark of pride for both the writers (who also penned Girl's Trip) and the ensemble cast that moments of verbal humor stick the landing just as often -- which is to say, always -- as moments of physical comedy. The cast is uniformly excellent, though Dewayne Perkins as the lovable gay BFF Dewayne perhaps carries the movie's heart with him. His presence reminds us of the film's secondary plot, about trust between friends and redemption with no small amount of sassy ridicule, and it all makes the primary plot mesh well with real grounding. And when things get bloody -- and indeed, the film is quite violent -- it's played more for laughs without gratuity or exploitation. Other notable standouts are Jermaine Fowler as the (twice) Trump-voting Android-touting loser Clifton and Grace Byers as Allison whose unintended Adderall trip brought me to stitches.

Allison, as the only biracial friend in the group, also catalyzes some really interesting discussion about colorism, to say nothing of Dewayne's queerness. It might be easy to enjoy the film without appreciating its deep examination of how and why we in America categorize Blackness so strictly, and how and why it never works for any of us. The friends bicker and argue about who is "Blacker" to the point of condemning each other to death for not being "Black enough." Is your Black card revoked because you use an Android, or because you talk like a white person, or watch Friends, or can swim? While this movie might not be as angry or incisive as Get Out, also frequently mentioned by these mindful and savvy characters, it certainly embraces its Black artists and audience from start to finish, offering plenty to enjoy and a little to challenge amidst its truly scary and damned funny brilliance.

Sorry to Bother You (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

There's a lot going on in this film, but it became clear early on that Sorry to Bother You is far more complex than the trailers indicated.

LaKeith Stanfield plays Cassius "Cash" Green (yes, his name was the first knock over the head), living in his uncle's (Terry Crews) garage with his girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson). His only prospective job is for telemarketing company Regal View, but he finds little success until an older man (Danny Glover) teaches him to use his "white voice" on the phone. Sounding confident, easygoing, rich -- and like the people to whom he sells -- he quickly becomes the best seller on the floor. His overseers celebrate his successes and eventually promote him to the upper floor "Power Callers" where he works and lives in luxury but must always use his "white voice."

Cash accepts the new position and considerable raise, but quickly realizes he has sold his soul. While his friends from the lower level strike and try to organize a union to protect themselves, Cash learns dark secrets about the company. He learns that they sell weapons and human labor from WorryFree -- a company that offers food and housing and no bills for only a lifelong work contract! -- and then he meets CEO Steve Lift (Armie Hammer).

Saying much more would spoil the plot, but the film is essentially a satire with strong elements of science fiction. Its strong anti-capitalist ideas are dense and layered but effective, assuming the film's target audience isn't already leftist-leaning. Everyone else can surely enjoy the performances, especially of Stanfield and Hammer. Most of the comedy even had me laughing aloud in the theater, and you know that's not really my thing. And for Boots Riley's directorial debut, it's a pretty amazing piece of work.

That said, the film also boasts a little too much muchness for my taste. It hits its notes a little too hard on the nose, and for most of its run time I felt I was being preached at or interrogated. The film's numerous subplots began to feel contrived and forced, and took some of the umph out of the main thematic thrust. And I couldn't help but feel that, though we can't reach the end of this film without the early parts, the film could neatly have been divided into two distinct movies, each with different appeal. By the second half, I felt as though I were locked in a carnival funhouse against my will. That may well be the intent, but it didn't endear me to the picture.

But if the worst thing about a film is that it's got something big and important on its mind and then nails it, I won't complain much.

IMDb: Sorry to Bother You