Movie Review: “Spiderhead”

The 15-minute rule. You have to give the movie fifteen minutes to get good. My personal tolerance window stands at about two minutes. However, this rule was created by my dad to convince my brother and I to watch older films that tend to take a little more time to build. 

Now, my brother and I use it as a tool to try something out without committing to a whole two-three hours. It provides a tap out time that signifies we’ve given the movie enough of a chance. 

“Escape from Spiderhead” is a short story written by George Saunders that I had read during my freshman year of college. I loved the short story and wanted to watch the movie. I did not expect great things. 

We all know how literature does not have the best portrayal on screen. It was more than this though. I had never seen Chris Hemsworth act without a shirt on. I was not confident in his ability to hold my attention and make me believe he belonged anywhere other than Asgard. 

This knowledge prevented me from watching it on the release date. Looking at what to watch with my little brother, about a month after the movie came out, we decided we would apply the fifteen-minute rule to “Spiderhead.”  

In its first fifteen minutes, it starts with multiple dad jokes. With the infectious laughter that applied even to a four-time life sentence in prison, my brother and I laughed along with him. 

We were sold from there. The 15-minute rule clocked out at the two minute mark.  

Mr. Abnesti presented a villain who was simply a dynamic character. He showed emotion when Heather died (more about his extended complications within his research, but we’ll give credit where it is due). 

His villain’s monologue did present itself but did not seem too long or too out of place. During the scene where he and Jeff are high on Laffodil, he seems human. 

He exposes himself and his past, his love now and how it impacts the ending. Yet, this conversation is a good callback at the end without having ruined it then.  

Lizzy, for not the first time in cinematic history, left a lot to be desired of the love interest. Part of me wanted to blame myself during my first and second watch of the movie; it was my fault I wasn’t connecting with the character because Lizzy showed emotion. 

Jurnee Smollett acted with emotion. Her character told stories that included joy and downfall. She had passions and skills in the kitchen. She wanted to feel the sun again; she had short-term goals. Lizzy fills out the character sheet for any draft. 

While she may not give any peeks towards her past traumas, this is not necessarily a bad thing. 

There are two main, glaring issues with Lizzy: her reaction to Jeff’s emotional reveal in the blue room (though the color contrast between the moment and the flashback almost makes me want to forgive this one) and the lack of conflict she faces/deals with.  

In the place of developing a balanced emotional connection, Lizzy decides that after Jeff explains his own reasons for being in prison that she will develop their physical relationship. 

This seems to be a new and growing cinematic way to comfort(?) men after having an emotional response. Rather than telling men to shut up and quit crying about it, movie women have concluded that sex will work just as well. 

It is a sharp turn of emotions that pulls viewers from what they’re watching. It is okay, and it is normal, to let heavy information hang in the air, to not move on, to not know how to proceed.  

The only kind of conflict Lizzy deals with prior to the Phobica is towards Jeff requesting to be taken off snack time. While her reaction is reasonable and direct, it doesn’t do much for the audience. She confronts him about it but doesn’t express how she feels. 

Lizzy’s first true reaction is when she explains her placement in this science-pseudo-prison. Smollett does an impressive provision of her lines during this scene in the white room. However, since this is about 20 minutes from the end of the movie, the audience has no other connection to her, they have no real reason built up to care. 

She never says her daughter’s name, never hints at this loss sooner or even carries it into the last scene. According to Martha Alderson it would have been necessary to “throw in some sort of disaster, conflict, roadblock… to learn how characters respond emotionally when things turn messy, challenging, and stressful…” This was never effectively delivered for Lizzy’s character. 

Overall, the imagery in “Spiderhead” was beautiful, the actors did good and better than expected, the establishing shots took the viewer in and out of an all-consuming world. I really did enjoy this movie, despite my critiques, and think that it did Saunders’ story well.