Arachnicide (2014): Eight-Legged W.T.F.

So… I watched *Arachnicide*. Still not sure if I should laugh, cry or call my therapist. It’s one of those straight-to-VHS-feeling Italian horror sci-fi deals directed by Paolo Bertola (yeah, that guy… or *”han där”* like we say in Gävle when we forget names). And let’s just say this one crawls deeper into the “so-bad-it’s-good” bin than most.

We’re talking about a special ops team—some kind of UN-style budget version of The Expendables—who go to Albania because apparently that’s where the genetically modified spiders live now. And oh boy… spiders. Giant ones. Made of pure CGI pain. Think PlayStation 2 graphics, but meaner.

There’s no real star power here unless you’re into seeing that one guy who looks like a mix between Dolph Lundgren’s stunt double and a weary Ikea cashier. Eric Roberts was probably busy. Or smart. But man, this thing had ambition. Just very, very misplaced ambition. Like that time I tried making sushi using köttbullar and lingonsylt.

Personal Trauma: Summer of Spiders

Watching this took me right back to the summer of ‘98 when my cousin Tobbe and I camped out behind the Volvo garage in Sundsvall. Woke up with a vitskaftad spindel crawling on my face. Screamed like a goat in a Slussen nightclub. *Arachnicide* brought that vibe back, but with more flamethrowers and worse dialogue.

The pacing? Like walking through slush in November. But weirdly? I kinda loved it. I mean, it’s trash. But it’s *my kind* of trash. When the spider explodes in slow motion with orchestral music? I nearly choked on my Zoégas.

This one’s for those nights you’ve given up on good taste. So… Tuesday, maybe?

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