 When I saw 1958’s The Fly for the first time, I thought it was fine for what it was, a horror flick emblematic of the decade it was made…until I saw spider web scene. In that scene, male protagonist Andre Delambre, played by David Hedison, his head and left arm permanently transfigured onto that of a common housefly, finds himself caught in a spider web. As his older brother Francois and Police Inspector Charas watch, a large brown spider approaches Andre, who screams in high-pitched terror for help as the spider bears down upon him, intent on making him his meal. You can watch the scene in question here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Up6g0SDMJ7A That scene terrified me more than the rest of the movie combined. And even though I followed up The Fly with something I found much lighter, I still went to bed that night hearing that high-pitched cry for help. Later, I would have a nightmare of that spider crawling through my bed. I was not a child when I saw The Fly for the first time. In fact, I saw it on February 27th, 2021, at the age of 27. And I pride myself with being able to sit through repeat viewings of films like Hereditary with ease, feats that other horror fans need mental preparation to do. Yet the spider web scene, even watching it again for this article, causes my stomach to knot and my muscles to tighten in terror. So why do I find this scene so scary? To be sure, even in 1958 people found it laughable. Even back then, the spider looked fake, you can see more than just Hedison’s head and left arm sticking out of a poorly made fly body, and I’m sure that high-pitched voice has brought many a viewer to tears. In fact, Vincent Price, who played Francois, mentioned that it took twenty takes to get that scene right because the high-pitched screaming set everyone laughing. And yet there is something undeniably terrifying with the spider web scene that even gave this seasoned horror fan and writer nightmares. Something more than just the spider itself, which I will discuss below. And I’ve been pondering what that could be since I first saw the film. Here are my conclusions as to why the spider web scene in The Fly, despite how campy and dated it may be, is so disturbing to watch. BODY HORROR While David Cronenberg’s adaptation of The Fly is the one known for body horror (and yes, I just saw that one recently as well. And while it didn’t terrify me as much as the original did, I did find it to be effective as a Shakespearean romantic tragedy told through the lens of a science horror story), there is a sort of body horror here. And what both films do very well is portray the body horror aspect becoming gradually worse until the human is nearly annihilated. While the term “body horror” generally brings to mind images of gore and gross mutations, a major aspect of the subgenre is loss of control. We find that our relationships with our bodies aren’t as firm or as friendly as we thought, that in a moment, the flesh could change on us, inhibit us, or even betray us. In The Fly, the body horror is first seen when Andre’s attempt to teleport himself go wrong and his molecules become entangled with that of a fly. His head and left arm become that of a fly, while the fly gains his head and left arm. This exchange of body parts not only provides for a startling visual when first revealed but shows how fragile our bodies are with a single change. Andre becomes unable to speak, he must eat carefully, and he cannot leave his lab. Later on, his own consciousness begins to fade as the fly’s instincts take over, leading to him committing suicide with the assistance of his wife. As bad as that is, though, the truly horrific moment is when Andre’s consciousness transfers to the fly’s body and he becomes trapped in the web. At least prior to that, he had most of his human strength and could utilize his intelligence, albeit with difficulty. However, as a fly he has no strength, and his intelligence is practically useless. A nightmare for any proud scientist, to be sure, but here it is deadly. And as death looms above him in the form of a hungry predator, Andre, trapped in a weak body and unable to utilize his intelligence, does the only thing he can: plead for help. COSMIC HORROR While cosmic horror generally deals with extraterrestrial, extradimensional, or sea entities of massive size and proportion, the essence of it is giant, indifferent forces either ignoring humans, treating them as playthings, or eating them. As I often tell people unfamiliar with the work of HP Lovecraft and the Cthulhu Mythos, we never think of ants unless we think of them as pests or we want to hold a magnifying glass over their nests. We do not concern ourselves with how the ants might appraise humanity, if they are aware of humanity, and we would think the idea of them worshipping us or calling us gods laughable. In cosmic horror, the positions are changed. Humans occupy the spot of the tiny, insignificant pests, and something else occupies the spot of the dominant creature, hopefully indifferent but quite capable of destroying the civilization built by the insignificant ones. And in terms of metaphor, the fly is not too far off from the ant. So in the spider web scene, a human man, one who previously held power over his whole domain and the forces of science and matter and space, finds himself literally reduced to an insignificant pest. And he is about to be devoured by a larger, much more powerful entity. One with multiple eyes and legs. One for whom its decision to kill the fly is not motivated by rage or greed or desire. It merely sees a convenient meal as it bears down upon the hapless human caught in its web. A god that is a god not because it desires to be worshipped or needs appeasing. A god that is a god because it is a primal force who controls the lives of all who falls into its web. Cosmic horror playing out through ordinary, everyday circumstances. I’m sure if Howard Philip Lovecraft had lived to see this movie, he would have understood exactly what Andre Delambre was feeling in the spider web scene. After all, it’s the exact sort of feeling he tried to evoke in his own stories. THE SPIDER I think we all have arachnophobia to some degree. However, whether a piece of media, such as a movie or TV show, can draw out that arachnophobia depends on how convincingly the makers of the media can reproduce, if not a realistic spider, then the idea of a spider. A good contrast to The Fly is the 1974 Doctor Who serial Planet of the Spiders. Except for maybe small children, the spiders here wouldn’t elicit fear in anyone. Their legs don’t have the careful, stylized movements of spider legs, their pedipalps don’t move, and their eyes are merely bumps on their plastic noggins. Occasionally they skitter or jump in ways like a jumping spider, but it’s not very convincing. Add in that they’re the size of small dogs, and you would be hard-pressed to find them terrifying. However, the spider in The Fly is terrifying. Yes, it is as fake as the ones in the Doctor Who serial, but even if you can tell it is artificial, it moves like a spider. The fangs and pedipalps, as well as the legs, move in a very spider-like fashion. In close-ups of the spider’s face, you can almost detect a curiosity from its eyes and head movements, as if it does indeed sense something different about this meal. Not in any way that matters, it would go forward with its plans to devour its prey whether that prey be a man/fly hybrid or a praying mantis. It just senses somehow that this one is different. And finally, the spider isn’t stopped before it can catch its prey. Director Kurt Neumann and his crew made the decision to have the spider actually catch, wrap its pedipalps around, and nearly bite the trapped Andre before Inspector Charas brings the rock down on them both. Even as we see him pick up and bring down that rock, there’s still a split second when we see the spider almost hugging the screaming Andre, allowing us to feel what he feels for just a little while until the mercy killing is fulfilled. This is every arachnophobe’s worst fear, to find themselves at the mercy of a spider. No matter the size difference, to the arachnophobe the spider is always big enough to make a meal out of them. It is a slow, horrifying and probably painful way to die, and seeing the protagonist nearly live out this dreaded scenario can bring out the fear of spiders in even those who believe they aren’t afraid. CONCLUSION The entire spider web scene in The Fly is not even a minute long. And while the effects can be laughable to one viewer, to another it is the very essence of horror. The helplessness and loss of control of body horror; the indifferent universe and the powerful entities in all their maddening terror of cosmic horror; and the basic fear of spiders, all wrapped into one disturbing moment of cinema. I went into this movie thinking that I knew what horror was, that I had a strong grasp of what could shake me and what would shake an ordinary audience member. And yet that one minute taught me fear anew and reminded me just how much I still had to learn about both my craft and my beloved genre. I’m sure Kurt Neumann, who died just a few weeks after his final masterpiece was released, would be delighted to know that his film has not only held up as a horror film over the decades, but that it is even teaching the experienced something new. And I would hope he would be happy to know that, having learned my lesson, I plan to apply it with my storytelling from here on out. With any luck, I’ll have more than a fly’s chance in a spider web of doing him justice. *** Rami Ungar is a novelist from Columbus, Ohio. He has self-published two books, The Quiet Game: Five Tales to Chill Your Bones and Snake, as well as traditionally published a novel, Rose, as well as several short stories in various publications. This includes his upcoming ebook exclusive story Agoraphobia, releasing March 16th through Amazon. Rami enjoys being afraid and making others afraid, and tries to accomplish that through his writing. When not telling his own stories, Rami enjoys reading, watching horror movies and anime, and giving his readers the impression that he’s not as human as he appears. Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Rami-Ungar/e/B00J8PLKDY?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1614740326&sr=8-1 Blog/Website: https://ramiungarthewriter.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RamiUngarWriter Twitter: https://twitter.com/ramiungarwriter?lang=en Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rami_ungar_writer/?hl=en YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP1kPr9_snmT5annJ55eYZQ?  Rose Taggert awakens in a greenhouse with no clear memory of the past two years and, to her horror, finds her body transformed into an unrecognizable form. Paris Kuyper has convinced Rose that they are lovers and as Paris could not bear for her to die, he has used an ancient and dark magic to save her from certain death. But the dark magic Paris has used comes at a price. A price which a terrible demon is determined to extract from Rose. As Rose struggles to understand what is happening to her, she must navigate Paris’s lies and secrets; secrets that Paris will do anything to protect.    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