A Childhood Reimagined: From Giant Spiders to a Mouse Named Stuart
Oh, how different our childhoods would have been if, during school breaks, we had films like “Eight Legged Freaks” and “Stuart Little 2” instead of the usual fare. Perhaps we’d have grown into a generation better equipped to handle the challenges of the world, less susceptible to manipulation, and more capable of protecting ourselves. So, to all the lucky kids experiencing childhood today, soak it all in – the spider attacks, the adventures of a talking mouse. Pay attention, because one day you’ll be the ones looking after us, the older generation.
Eight Legged Freaks: A Nostalgic Nod with a Modern Twist
“Eight Legged Freaks,” directed by Ellory Elkayem, is geared towards older kids and teens. While many describe it as a parody of those classic “B” horror movies from the 1950s, I see it as something more. Sure, the plot revolves around a small mining town overrun by mutated spiders of all sizes, some as big as a house, thanks to an accident at a local spider farm. And yes, the nerdy kid, a budding naturalist, is constantly watching those very “B” horror flicks.
However, the parody extends beyond just the horror genre. It’s a satire of the entire “one-story America” lifestyle, idealized in the 50s, and the earnestness of the “little American.” We have the corrupt mayor, the Jewish barber, the ever-present Aunt Gladys with her dog, rebellious teenagers, and striking miners – all characters as much a part of the story as the spiders themselves. Add in a dark past, a couple of love stories, and the usual everyday squabbles, and you’ve got a recipe for chaos. When faced with a deadly threat, the town unites, defeats the spiders through their own ingenuity, the mayor meets his end in hairy spider legs, and the lovers find each other. It’s a classic formula, ready for any future invasion, be it aliens or the government itself.
The film isn’t scary in the slightest. “Eight Legged Freaks” marks the first time I’ve seen a cat get eaten on screen and not immediately run out of the theater. It’s obvious that no one was actually harmed. The spiders are clearly toys, and the parody lies in the deliberate exaggeration of their appearance and movements using modern filmmaking techniques. They jump around, making silly noises. An appendage emerges from the ground, and suddenly a lawn ornament is gone. This deliberate artificiality extends to the events (a motorcycle chase, a battle in a shopping mall, explorations in catacombs) and even the human characters. The message is clear: don’t take your corporeal bodies too seriously.
The film’s weaknesses include a drawn-out exposition and a somewhat slow pace, not entirely justified by the small-town setting. It feels like a budget issue. However, the strengths lie in the individual visual and verbal jokes. “I see a dead person, I see a dead person!” cries a parrot before a spider limb silences him. There’s witty humor, like the electroshock weapon between someone’s legs paired with wildflowers (“He picked them himself, how sweet!”). And Aunt Gladys, who can smoke even inside a spider cocoon, is the film’s best character.
Stuart Little 2: A Whimsical World of Friendship and Adventure
“Stuart Little 2” is perfect for kids of all ages, from infants to the elderly. Directed by Rob Minkoff, who also directed “The Lion King,” this film embraces a world of pure fantasy. The live-action actors, Geena Davis and Jonathan Lipnicki, gleefully exaggerate their adult personas, and the animals are simply delightful. If you’ve seen the first movie, you know that the special effects seamlessly blend live-action humans and animals. In the first film, the Little family (mom, dad, son, daughter, and cat) adopted a mouse named Stuart. In the sequel, he’s settling in.
The story revolves around childhood friendship, as Stuart, despite being part of a human family, still feels lonely. He needs a friend his own size. That friend arrives in the form of a small, injured bird who looks like a canary. Stuart falls in love, but the bird, true to her streetwise nature, turns out to be a pawn of a predatory falcon who wants to steal Geena Davis’s wedding ring. The bird flies away without a word, leaving Stuart heartbroken and determined to find her. The entire Little family joins the search.
The plot is admittedly silly, but Minkoff isn’t trying to create a masterpiece of storytelling. The joy of the film, even for adults, is in the execution. Watching Stuart drive his own miniature Cadillac to school, fly his own airplane, and squeeze through a hole in the kitchen sink to retrieve the ring is pure delight. Everything, from the dad’s surprised expression to the mom’s idyllic pink sweaters, fits perfectly into the fairytale world. You quickly stop questioning what’s real and what’s CGI, and simply enjoy the details of this fantastical life. And no matter how absurd things get, the presence of Snowbell, the classic Persian cat, always brings things back to earth.
The Little’s baby daughter throws her oatmeal on the floor. Mom calls Snowbell to eat it. As he heads to the kitchen, he imagines a feast of salmon, halibut, sturgeon, or at least some sprats. Instead, he finds a pile of oatmeal smeared across the floor: “Good grief, they think I’m a walking Comet.” When Snowbell quotes the Old Testament, comments on human psychology, or travels with Stuart (“Slow down the Cadillac, or I’ll die of thrombosis!”), it’s not just witty, it’s almost prophetic. It reinforces the idea that the cat is the true master of the house, a biblical truth of life. The translation is excellent, and it’s no surprise that the voice actors are credited prominently. During vacation time, we tend to gravitate towards a refreshed, yet comfortable state of mind. “Eight Legged Freaks” is a live-action film that feels like a puppet show, while “Stuart Little 2” is a live-action film that feels like a cartoon. One elicits a silly “hee-hee” after every scare, while the other brings a blissful, drooling smile after every moment of magic. Perhaps, if the beauty of our physical bodies won’t save the world, our self-deprecating humor about that beauty will.