Why is it always the small towns and quaint hamlets that are favoured by science fiction and horror writers when it comes time to choose the setting for their works? What is it about these charming little villages that makes them so appealing as far as tales of alien invasion and supernatural possession tend to go? Perhaps it has to do with the fact that the juxtaposition of a more rural area with entities beyond our comprehension feels more captivating, or that having a more remote setting allows for broader possibilities in terms of narrative since there would be too much hassle in situating these stories in recognizable places – and let’s be frank, a story about aliens invading Manhattan has been done before, it’s rarely very convincing. In his directorial debut, James Gunn follows a similar logic, setting Slither in the fictional town of Wheelsy in South Carolina, a typical working-class community home to a small population of simple-minded folks who certainly did not expect to be at the centre of a potentially devastating invasion once one of their residents encounters a mysterious worm-like creature that very soon makes him its host, wreaking havoc on the rest of the town while a small group of resourceful individuals battle against the odds to bring these extraterrestrial beings to justice, which proves to be an unexpectedly difficult endeavour, but one that isn’t entirely impossible. Having worked on several genre films in smaller positions, Gunn seemed prime to make an audacious debut, and Slither features some remarkably fascinating ideas, pieced together into a gloriously deranged hybrid of horror, science fiction and dark comedy, each genre being a welcome addition to an intentionally tacky, off-the-wall project that never takes itself too seriously, but still presents some fascinating ideas that form the foundation for something that has steadily grown in estimation as time has progressed, and is now seen as a cult classic by a small but steadfast subset of the horror community that finds an abundance of value in this deranged curio that is as disturbing as it is irreverent.

Gunn has never made his reverence for older media a secret – every one of his films is filled to the brim with references and throwbacks to the works that inspired him as a young artist, and we can see the formative effect many older films had on him as a burgeoning artist right from the start. What makes Slither such a delight is how it never promises to be anything original, but instead markets itself as this off-the-wall science fiction horror comedy that is heavily inspired by existing works, almost to the point where Gunn was accused of outright lifting material from earlier works, which was essentially dismissed once he made it clear that this film was a tribute to an entire era of horror cinema, to the point where it is essentially a series of references cobbled together to form something new, with a slightly original story binding everything and giving off the illusion of being a bespoke work. The appeal these films had to Gunn is made clear in both the story and its execution, with Slither functioning as a perfect example of what happens when a wholeheartedly devoted film fan manages to step behind the camera and make their version of the works that inspired them. Traces of everything from the low-budget B-movies of the 1950s to the gross-out horror comedies of the 1980s are present in this film, which is once again a story of a small community being invaded by creatures from another dimension. However, unlike the more traditional view of aliens as benevolent, intelligent beings far more advanced than us, they’re rendered here as grotesque parasites, mostly misshapen atrocities that latch onto a host and turn them into the most repulsive creatures imaginable – and it is through this very different approach that Gunn can create something genuinely quite unsettling, while still maintaining a generally clear, efficient perspective that shades in most of the film’s more ambigious narrative elements.

In addition to the formal elements, Slither is also worth noting based on the execution of its already ambitious ideas. Gunn is as reverent to the stories that populated the films that defined his childhood as he is their design, and he works laboriously to craft this film to reflect their often unorthodox style. From the first moments, the film looks as if it was plucked directly from the 1950s, with the small-town atmosphere being more than just incidental. Part of the appeal comes in how the director seamlessly blends practical effects with those produced using digital means, which shows an affection for the former as the foundation of the genre and the acknowledgement of the latter as its future, the two working remarkably well together and creating something genuinely quite moving, even when it is intentionally quite gaudy on the surface. The design of the town itself is fascinating – it is constructed to resemble any quaint suburban homestead, with the people who make their way throughout seeming as if they are also from the era being referenced, just done through a more unorthodox lens. This is followed by the steadily growing sense of despair and unease, which correlates directly to the lingering feeling of existential dread provoked by the uncanny appearance of the surroundings, as well as the presence of these parasitic creatures that are as repulsive as they are entertaining, a quality that has made for many iconic villains across science fiction and horror, and which Gunn leans into quite heavily throughout this film. Most importantly,  Slither is not a film that intends to take itself too seriously, and we can see this reflected in the visual component, which is complemented in turn by the tone of the film, which exists somewhere between outright terrifying and outrageously funny, which fits in perfectly with the primary themes of this film, and ensures that we are constantly kept engaged and entertained throughout.

We don’t normally look towards science fiction or horror for the most complex performances, but Gunn is also someone who has a fondness for the eccentric work done by many actors in the genre’s past, which is primarily why so many of his films prioritize giving time and space to actors who cannot only handle the somewhat unwieldy material but actively elevate it to be more than just inconsequential roles in a story where the concept is more prominent. Slither contains a few terrific performances, albeit from a cast that is kept mainly quite small and traditional. Nathan Fillion is the dim-witted police chief who turns out to be an unexpected hero, while Elizabeth Banks is as consistent as ever as the schoolteacher who moves from a reserved, shy wallflower to the proverbial final girl, confronted with a grim reality when she sees her husband become the first victim of these malicious beings. Michael Rooker, a deeply underappreciated actor to whom Gunn has always shown a firm loyalty, delivers maybe his personal best performance as the hilariously-named Grant Grant, who catalyzes the film’s events, and becomes one of the most surprisingly unsettling villains of the past couple of decades in the genre’s history, only made more captivating by the thorough work done to transform him (and several other supporting players) into the grotesque homogenous entity that terrifies us throughout the final act, growing bigger and more intimidating as the film progresses. The performances in Slither are simple but very effective, with every actor being armed with the right amount of humour and pathos to make this otherwise bizarre story much more convincing.

As time has gone on, Gunn has made it clear that he’s more interested in working in the realm of superhero films, recently taking on a leadership position with one of the major studios producing these films. On one hand, we can understand the appeal, since these are the stories that he is most passionate about and he’s proven to have a good command of the genre, at least enough to make his offerings somewhat more captivating than the usual hackneyed productions we usually find possessing an unfair monopoly on the industry. On the other hand, Gunn is too gifted of a filmmaker to restrict himself to only one genre, and Slither shows that, despite the evident flaws that prevent it from reaching greatness, its nonetheless still a wickedly original, outrageously funny film that is made all the better through the director’s ability to freely throw the most absurd ideas out and hopes that some of them will manifest into something meaningful, a risk that unfortunately cannot be taken with the kind of studio films he is working on presently. It remains to be seen as to whether or not Gunn will return to this style of filmmaking, even as a brief excursion – but based on the work he does with Slither, he’s got the talent to be able to craft something incredibly unique, even if it does depend on both an appreciation for a certain kind of filmmaking and the ability to suspend disbelief long enough to leap onto this film’s wavelength, which is essentially why it is considered something of an acquired taste. The film does what it intends to do exceptionally well, and offers us exactly what it promises at the outset, which is all we require from such a premise, and Gunn does prove his mettle as a genre filmmaker in terms of weaving a compelling yarn and executing its ideas mostly flawlessly, which amounts to something genuinely quite entertaining, delivering the thrills and chills in equal abundance and generally just being a terrific work.