Reely Bernie Horror Fest: Arachnophobia (1990)

More a charming nod to nostalgia than an outright comedy, and more horror than spoof, Arachnophobia still manages to sink its fangs into enough entertainment value to work 35 years later.

Gosh. Thirty-five years.

I first saw this mild screamer at the now-gone Southbridge 8 Theatres in Littleton, Colorado—the same year I saw Edward Scissorhands. Those were innocent days. And yes, I know that’s what everyone says when they look back—but compared to today’s movies and our current state of societal polarization, those days really were innocent.

Even as a kid, I could tell that Arachnophobia had a bit of a tonal identity crisis. It starts off like Raiders of the Lost Ark, then veers into city-folk-try-to-fit-into-country-life territory, before settling into full-blown arachnid-fueled panic. Once the spiders start dropping bodies, it’s a squirm fest to the end—equal parts creepy and campy.

The ever-endearing Jeff Daniels was born to play this role: Doc Hollywood with a wine obsession and a paralyzing fear of spiders. (Poetic justice that he ends up throwing his wine bottles at the alpha spider in the end.) I’m still not entirely sure what the film is trying to say but as a cringe-filled creature feature, it still earns its stripes… or legs.

Trevor Jones’s score is over the top, but not nearly as much as Julian Sands’s (RIP) performance. I’ve always liked Sands’s oddball “Warlock” vibe, but this definitely felt like his awkward phase. Meanwhile, John Goodman steals every scene as the world’s most overqualified exterminator. The 100-minute runtime scuttles by like it was 90.

In the end, Arachnophobia is innocent fun. It doesn’t condescend, it doesn’t overreach, and—thankfully—it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Just keep your feet off the floor and your hands out of the popcorn bowl while you’re watching.

Arachnophobia (1990) ***