The Overlooked Cobweb Is a Well-Crafted, Future Halloween Cult Classic

No, what makes Cobweb actually stand out is largely the eye of Bodin and cinematographer Philip Lozano, both of whom work in conjunction to draw us into the dreamy, borderline surreal setting of this suburban fairytale, where a dark, rotting core lies buried just beyond the edges of perception. Critical to framing the film is the decision to effectively present everything from an 8-year-old’s perspective: Not literally, in terms of line of sight, but conceptually and metaphorically. We perceive the world as this nerve-wracked little boy attempts to parse it, with his parents as imposing and mysteriously unknowable strangers who seem to hold some grudge against him that he can’t possibly understand. Everything has the stylized air of childhood fantasy, the sense that an overactive imagination has twisted familiar objects into strange and off-putting shapes. Not everything makes logical sense. The very landscape of Peter’s home is like a dreamscape, complete with a backyard pumpkin patch choked with black mold, strangling itself in its desire to live and grow beyond the bounds of this clearly haunted house. Guillermo del Toro would love the place.

Granted, the film is absolutely stuffed with genre cliches of the last two decades, particularly in the form of the ham-fisted attempts at assistance offered by Peter’s empathetic substitute teacher (Cleopatra Coleman), who at one point brings a classroom drawing to the house literally emblazoned with “HELP ME” in crayon. The temptation to roll one’s eyes is strong, but even scenes like these, which we’ve seen in a hundred similar films in recent memory, manage to crackle with a palpable sense of suspense thanks to their editing and the menace-laden performances of Caplan and Starr, who respectively stew in flustered indignation and barely repressed physicality. The trio walk a delicate tightrope–teacher probing after the wellbeing of the child, and parents all but insinuating that she could be seconds away from finding out exactly where he is, if she doesn’t leave well enough alone. Cobweb teases its threats of violence with supreme patience, making it all the more satisfying when things finally erupt. You can certainly see why they cast the likes of Starr, so known as he is for the portrayal of psychopathic superhero Homelander on The Boys.

It’s this consistent ability of Bodin to subtly tweak familiar tropes that keeps Cobweb interesting, that gives it an unexpected spark of vitality that the cynical horror fan in the audience probably wouldn’t see coming. Even its jump scares aren’t presented quite as one expects them to be, sometimes with tweaks as simple as delaying the timing of a payoff the audience expects to arrive a little bit sooner. In Cobweb, everything tired is somehow made fresh again. The film manages to demonstrate the value that existed in many of these tropes all along, before our familiarity with them bred contempt. For the lifelong horror fan, that’s an oddly comforting experience.

In a perfect world, Cobweb would have arrived in theaters in early October, with a genuine ad campaign behind it, and been carried by word of mouth into being a modest hit, launching director Bodin toward bigger and more ambitious projects where he can hopefully continue to demonstrate serious talent behind the camera. It sure as hell wouldn’t have been the third wheel in a cultural event the size of Barbenheimer, but despite this I still have a feeling that this is one of those movies that will continue to find “its people” now that it’s entered the streaming sphere on a major service. There’s just something about it–a verve and understanding of what it is that helps it to rise above what could easily have been a rote, soulless affair.

And so, before Halloween arrives, horror fans owe it to themselves to discover Cobweb. This cult is likely just getting started.

Jim Vorel is Paste’s resident horror guru. You can follow him on Twitter for much more film content.