Bruno (Lon Chaney, Jr.) is the mild-mannered chauffeur and caretaker for the Merrye family, who live in a large mansion in the countryside. He’s dedicated his entire life to serving the family, which has recently entailed being the guardian of the three Merrye children, Virginia (Jill Banner), Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn) and Ralph (Sid Haig), who have unfortunately been orphaned after the death of their father. However, the reality is that they suffer from a rare genetic condition that causes them to slowly regress into a childlike mentality, and then eventually into an animalistic state, where they soon lust after flesh as a way of satiating their cannibalistic desires. The three children are at the age where they’re standing on the precipice of becoming murderous, and Bruno has to make sure that he fends off this behaviour as long as he can, especially with the arrival of Emily (Carol Ohmart) and her brother, Peter (Quinn K. Redeker), two distant relations of the family that are apparently the sole surviving heirs of the Merrye family, seeking to lay claim to the family’s vast fortunes. What they believe to be a pleasant visit to the countryside estate eventually devolves into a cataclysm of peril, as the visitors find themselves the victims of a group of young people with a penchant for killing, especially those who dare encroach on their territory. In the midst of all this madness, the extraordinarily well-meaning Bruno does his best to maintain control but soon realizes that it is at the point of no return, and they might as well surrender to the growing danger occurring in the cobweb-stricken halls of that deteriorating mansion.

Jack Hill is a fundamentally fascinating filmmaking – his work has always been some strange combination of Classical Hollywood tropes and more contemporary independent qualities, which normally means he is a director whose career occurred at the perfect intersection between the two radically different artistic movements. Spider Baby is unquestionably one of his most fascinating works, a film that has been rescued from obscurity and finally relished as the cult classic it was always meant to be, and a work of unmitigated chaos that demonstrates Hill’s exceptional control of his craft, where he was able to make something that not only drew upon the many qualities of both classic horror and the exploitation movement but also represented a great shift towards more auteur-driven horror in a time when most low-budget films like this were plagued by trite storyline or lacklustre style. Hill, who is also a director who intentionally defied categorization, managed to make a pulpy, hilarious B-movie that’s executed with the wit and intelligence of some of the most ambitious entries into the genre, never trying to amount to anything it knew was impossible, but also not denying the opportunity to push the boundaries of what a horror film should be. Perhaps a film that doesn’t necessarily lend itself to one particular genre, featuring qualities of dark comedy, psychological thriller and gothic horror, Spider Baby is a deliriously fun film, a piece of independent storytelling that feels so unexpectedly soulful (as well as subversive in ways that we’ll outline further on), and entirely authentic in its motivation to be entertaining without losing sight of the more experimental qualities that set this apart from nearly every other film of the genre, both at the time and from contemporary standards.

It’s almost impossible to not adore Lon Chaney, Jr. – through his career, he truly established himself as a magnetic screen presence in a way only those who worked during the Golden Age of Hollywood were able to. Even when taking on the most villainous roles, Chaney persuaded us to be endlessly fascinated with how he’d command the screen. Spider Baby sees him take on one of his most endearing roles as Bruno, the kind-hearted caretaker of a family of burgeoning monsters. The film may thrive on the strengths of the ensemble, but its Chaney that holds it together, and is the aspect that has most certainly been most fondly remembered, because while his work here may not be as iconic as his performances as classic horror figures like The Wolf Man, Dracula and Frankenstein’s Monster (all of which are cleverly referenced in one particularly memorable scene, almost as if Hill was reminding us of what a true legend Chaney was), it’s some of his most authentic, and a chance for the actor to abandon the makeup, taking on the kind of role in the films that initially made him a star, but always tended to be afforded to veterans, of which he had finally become by this point. Less of a folkloric figure than Karloff or Lugosi, Chaney had a certain humility, an everyman charm that worked so well later on in his career, especially here, where he takes on a relatively challenging task of grounding a film that’s often on the verge of becoming completely ludicrous. Chaney reigns everything in throughout and is the emotional heart of the film, but this doesn’t mean the rest of the cast are anything less than impressive. Jill Banner and Beverly Washburn are delightful as the childlike sisters, whose awful actions are softened by how endearing they are shown to be, and Sid Haig (a true exploitation icon in his own right), makes great use of his talents in the role of Ralph, oscillating between terrifying and adorable, depending on the context we see him in.

These wonderful performances all converge into the biggest strength of Spider Baby – its commitment to be as radically different from everything else being produced at the time, and the rare kind of horror film that isn’t satisfied with just being scary, and yearns for something more. It’s a character-driven film that sees the story told not through exposition (an unfortunate tendency for many exploitation horror films), but by the interactions between these characters, and how Hill makes sure to withhold enough information to keep us guessing throughout. Like any horror film from this time, Spider Baby relies on the viewer’s inherent curiosity about the unknown – its almost reminiscent of James Whale’s The Old Dark House, insofar as its a film about visitors entering into a secluded family home, encountering the deranged offspring, and being only a stone’s throw away from the sinister secrets lurking around the foreboding mansion. It isn’t a story that hasn’t been told before, but what Hill does with it is where the film flourishes. The humour that comes alongside it is only a welcome supplement because the elegance through which the story is told is more than sufficient in setting this apart from similar films. Hill clearly cares for these characters enough to give them some personality, and while the visitors may be dreadfully archetypal, to the point where the innocent and the greedy are split evenly down the middle, the film never feels like its not putting in any effort. Everything in this film unfolds with such each, it can only be considered the result of a lot of thought being put into the structure, where Hill, who had already amounted a substantial amount of impressive, albeit underseen, film work by the time he directed Spider Baby, drew upon many different elements to convey this film, and effectively creating one of the most unique entries into a genre that always benefits from fresh insights, which Hill offers in abundance here.

Perhaps even classifying Spider Baby as a horror seems premature because it feels so contradictory to many of the genre’s more prominent qualities, it can only be seen as a subversion of all of them. Hill was making a dark comedy in the form of a traditional monster movie, working from an intentionally absurd script that seemed to convey the idea that, despite the presence of a looming unknown danger, the true villains of the story are those that intrude on a family that just wants to exist. Spider Baby‘s most revolutionary aspect is that it tells the story from the perspective of the character we’d normally expect to be the antagonists, but in a way that doesn’t necessarily excuse their violent behaviour – it’s a traditional case of being fascinated by evil characters that are so compelling, we can’t help but want them to succeed. Resembling a traditional horror film, including all the twists and turns we’d expect (making this a relatively predictable film, a fact that could only have been by design), the way Hill traverses cliche and delivers something that still manages to be packaged with many nasty surprises, is incredible. Moreover, the film’s ability to not only be an unsettling horror, but also a heartfelt family saga, contributes to the general brilliance, and almost frustrating originality, of this fascinating film.

It’s not often such a bold and daring story can be executed with an almost delicate touch, and to see it done in the form of a film that leaps across genre boundaries is almost enough to consider this one of the finest experiments in independent filmmaking, during a time when experimental art was still restricted to the underground. It’s an intrepid approach to an already daring piece of narrative fiction, and in the process of being thoroughly unique, finds the time to be both outrageously funny, and horrifyingly unsettling, which is increasingly difficult to convey effectively without the precision Hill demonstrates throughout. Not only is it a great artefact in terms of being a great late-career performance from the incredible Lon Chaney, Jr., but also an endearing dark comedy with an abundance of thrills, a chilling storyline and a commitment to the authenticity of the piece, where artificiality services the profoundly moving themes of family and loyalty underpinning the film. It’s almost perfect, from start to finish (and featuring a brilliant final shot), and stands as an audacious example of taking a great idea and venturing into the unknown, using works that came before as a guidepost, rather than a crutch, resulting in a marvellous experiment, and a truly unforgettable experience, and one that truly lives up to its alternative title of “The Maddest Story Ever Told”.