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ometimes, Long-Suffering Reader, I write about movies I first saw during my childhood or teens. Other times, things I’ve never seen


before just fall into my lap, variously recommended by co-workers or Rue Morgue readers. But some- times I’m forced to dig very deep. Delete bins, flea markets, dodgy mail-order dealers or even the dumpster out behind Last Chance Lance’s place. These spelunkings have occasionally yielded some truly unsung classics, but also some gobsmackingly craptastic, er, crap that reaches an altogether differ- ent level of greatness. This month, I welcome you to Column B. Horrors of Spider Island is a 1962 German/Yu-


goslavian welfare affair in which an all-girl dance troupe and its manager get marooned on a tropical island. You may ask yourself, “How do they get there?” Well, our dancers – various chorus girls, a bal-


lerina and a stripper – first audition in Los Angeles for Gary Webster (Alex D’Arcy), an in- dustry playa assembling dancers to shake their groove thing on the night club circuit in Singapore. Soon, Gary and the gals are winging it to South- east Asia. (The name of the airline is never revealed, but given that our pro- tagonists board the plane in Los An- geles, then fly over New York en route to Singapore by way of Hawaii, I’m thinking Air Canada.) It’s not to be, though, as the plane goes down in the drink somewhere in the Pacific. (By the way, I’m more forgiving than most people when it comes to stock footage, but a prop airliner that changes from two engines to four in mid-flight? No wonder the god- damn thing goes down in flames.) Back home, the booking agent tries to placate the


concerns of friends and loved ones: “There is ab- solutely no reason yet to fear the worst. Until now, we only know that the plane caught fire, and that we’ve lost radio contact.” Thanks, asshole.


RM48 Meanwhile, Gary and company drift for several


days in a life raft before washing ashore on the titular isle. While foraging for food and supplies, one of the girls finds a hammer, which Gary immediately snatches away from her for analysis: “A hammer! There must be someone on this island. A hammer, with a long handle. It must be for the purpose of excavating some sort of metal. Most probably ura- nium.” “Can you eat that?” one of the


girls asks. “Yeah, you can try it,” chortles


our fearless leader. Sure enough, upon moving fur-


ther inland, they discover a cabin, but the buzz is abruptly harshed when they enter and find a dead man in a huge web. Not only is the visual evidence overwhelm- ing, but Babs (Barbara Valentin)


sums it up succinctly for the less observant viewer: “A dead man! In a huge web! Oh, Gary!” If you haven’t already guessed, the characters


keep us firmly in the loop with enough expository di- alogue to make Dario Argento pull his own head off. Normally, that kind of thing sends me into a sputter- ing frenzy; Spider Island, however, stands apart for its tendency not only to have characters painfully trot


out background info, but also to constantly explain what’s currently happening and remind us of what happened several minutes ago, thereby accommo- dating bathroom breaks. After Gary gets bitten by a really pathetic-looking


spider and is transformed into a shirtless arachno- man-thingie with three great big ol’ pointy fangs (one upper, two lower), he skulks off into the bush to lie in wait for unsuspecting bimbi. We’re then introduced to scientists Bob and Joe, who pull ashore in a skiff with the following exchange: “Bob, you know, I’m sort of glad the professor picked us out to help him with his work, even though it’s lonely here.” “Give me some whisky,” Bob replies. “If there


aren’t any chicks, then at least some whisky.” (If he continues on this path, he might end up in a band.) Things grind to a rather painful halt in the third act,


in which the lads and lasses dance, hook up, fall out, make up and switch partners, but eventually a scream is heard (“That was a... a scream!”) and the riveting climax gets underway. I’ll spare you the spoilers. Horrors of Spider Island is now public domain,


which would explain its current availability from mul- tiple sources including (bless ’em!) Something Weird Video, Mystery Science Theater 3000 and YouTube. There are even rumours of a version replete with nu- dity – early 1960s nudity! – in a skinny-dipping scene. Now get the hell out of my basement and send in the next audition.


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