Australia | 2020 | Directed by Josh Reed
Logline: A crystal meth dealer and his motley crew are planning a potentially lucrative home invasion unaware that their squat has been rigged with hidden cameras watching their every move.
We’ve all seen scungey low-lives backstabbing each other, jumping from the saucepan into the fire. We’ve all seen the spiralling descent of junkies splashed across the screen in all their hideous squalor. But you’ve never seen anything quite like the razor sharp portrait of hell that is Sydneysider Josh Reed’s “found noir”.
Anton (Lindsay Farris) is a dealer of crystal meth - ice to the locals. He lives in a two-storey house somewhere in the suburban sprawl of South Sydney, in the blistering heat of a fetid summer, where the cockroaches crawl across your itchy face at night. He shares the filthy premises with Effs (Stephanie King), his shackled girlfriend, and a ragtag bunch of meth-head losers, Pincer (Anthony Tuafa), Bezza (Stef Smith), and Ahmed (Fayssal Bazzi), and not forgetting all the bikies and snakes that stomp and slither in and out of the house to get what they want.
Little does Anton know, but across the road the house is being scrutinised by Jimmy (Max Brown), who has managed to secretly plant a bunch of tiny cameras all over the house, in order to capture the evidence he needs to blackmail. As Anton and his cohorts put together a home invasion mission, with the help of a corrupt cop, Det. Sgt. Godfrey (John Cordukes), the cameras record all the duplicity, all the rage, all the kray kray … If you think shit gonna hit the fan, you ain’t seen nuthin’. Tears before bedtime? These bastards never sleep. Prepare to have your arse kicked into the middle of next week.
We’re Not Here to Fuck Spiders is presented like a found footage movie. The film’s opening credits reveal that in early 2018 thousands of hours of secretly filmed footage were dumped, anonymously, onto the internet, and this is the edited assembly that details the events that lead to the home invasion and the subsequent betrayals and violent consequences. The movie unfolds utilising multiple camera POVs, sometimes all nine at once, in a grid, sometimes focusing on just one or two camera perspectives.
The editing/camera choices create a narrative, adding tension, creating momentary, fractured respite. The perspective from the house across the road reveals Jimmy’s actions through reflection in the window and mirrors into a locked-off camera set-up aimed at the drug den. The home invasion, when it finally happens, is viewed through the head-rigged camera of one of the assailants. The realism and volatility is palpable. The threat of violence hangs in the air like a noxious gas.
Much kudos to director Reed, who is credited as writer, but in reality, used only a story outline and in-depth characterisations, allowing his talented cast to improvise over an intense four-day shoot. The results are shocking and compelling. The performances of Farris and King are especially notable for their authentic and courageous depictions of abuser and victim, they both demand acting trophies in their pool rooms.
It’s a hard film to recommend to those unused to such harsh depictions - be prepared for an especially shocking and graphic moment of how-the-fuck-did-they-just-do-that violence - indeed it is a very confronting and demanding viewing experience, but recommend it I must. Essential viewing for contemporary horror fans, and those that admire unorthodox methods. This is a nightmare like the urban disease and decay of Bad Lieutenant, with shards of Dogs in Space moral destitution and chaos. We’re Not Here to Fuck Spiders is as blunt a declaration as its title suggests. A vicious, ruinous slap in the face of humanity, right here, right now. Keep your eyes peeled.