The Big Monster Spider in Sting Deserved Better

Kiah Roache-Turner’s Sting is the more forgiving and approachable experience of the two arachnid horror flicks releasing this April. If you’ve seen Roache-Turner’s Wyrmwood zombie B-movies or his offbeat “cyberdemon” oddball Nekrotronic, you’re probably not surprised to find his fanged-up screenplay plays into comedic set-ups. Sting has more in common with Big Ass Spider! or Eight Legged Freaks than anything else, trying to be a family drama that puts a smile on your face despite the dangerously giant spider feasting on victims. Roache-Turner has navigated these jokey-yet-vicious waters before, and unfortunately, with steadier results. Sting is sweet, silly and savage in sectioned bursts, but fails to pull everything into an intricately woven web of creepy-crawly terrors.
During an unprecedented winter ice storm in a Brooklyn apartment complex, little Charlotte (Alyla Browne) befriends an alien spider-creature. She names it “Sting,” offering a mason jar habitat and a steady diet of New York City roaches. Following creature feature rules, where something must go wrong, Sting begins to grow at a rapid pace. As the bugger’s size doubles, quadruples and so on, so does its appetite—from roaches to caged parrots and finally to tenants.
Sting is an elementary formula when it comes to hunt-and-kill action, but that’s not until the film’s third act. We spend more time navigating Charlotte’s home life, where stepfather Ethan (Ryan Corr) wrestles with compassionate co-parenting, touchy nerves and his multiple jobs. Charlotte’s mother, Heather (Penelope Mitchell), lays an unstable foundation by not confessing her ex-husband’s local relocation because it’d ruin the daughter who’s convinced he’s unable to visit. Roache-Turner uses the fragile step-parent ecosystem as a catalyst for the mayhem that transpires, as blatantly as Charlotte creating a comic character named Fang Girl that Ethan sells to a publisher—seen via illustration riding a beefed-up spider—to parallel Charlotte’s extreme attachment to Sting. It’s all melodramatically on the nose and not always delivered with intended impact (including Ethan’s perceived favoritism of Charlotte’s infant brother Liam), stealing focus away from Sting’s freakish embiggening.
As for the building’s other residents, they’re not much beyond caricatures all designed with broad and translucent strokes. You can see right through their personalities, from the grieving drunkard widow Maria (Silvia Colloca) to the awkwardly neurodivergent biology student Erik (Danny Kim). Jermaine Fowler appears as a second-generation exterminator—the only supporting character who feels alive—who Aunt Gunter (Robyn Nevin) underpays as a frugal and callous landlord. They’re all one-dimensional props, and their treatments only highlight a strange question for a horror film releasing in the year 2024: Why are all the minority characters wafer-thin snacks for Sting?