There’s a Lightning Bug in the Doll’s House and It’s Making Me SQUIRM!

Actually, it’s making me happy as a ladybug on uppers that I got to watch Jeff Lieberman’s notorious 1976 classic, Squirm. I’m just guilty of a good headline. Hopefully, that’s just about all I share with the NY Post.

And thusly do I present a new, hopefully monthly segment here wherein everybody’s favorite South Carolinian blogging superstar T.L. Bugg (of The Lightning Bug's Lair fame) orders me to watch a film of his choosing. My only defense is to retaliate with a pick of my own. For our flagship movie club, I chose the 1989 Belgian John Waters (and Emily Intravia) favorite Baxter, a film I reviewed here ages ago and have strived to recommend to the rest of the world. Mr. Bugg’s review should be up today, so head over to catch his thoughts.  

Oh yeah. And he chose Squirm.

Quick Plot: Some TCMish text tells us that something mysterious happened one night in the small Georgia hamlet of Fly Creek. Following an angry thunderstorm, a few downed power lines are, unbeknownst to the incredibly folksy townspeople, sending thousands of volts underground to piss off an overwhelming population of pink Glycera worms who conveniently enough for a horror movie, have the voices of rabid elephants.

But let’s save that for the second hour of the film as the first is primarily devoted to pretty redhead Geri and her visiting big city nerd beau Mick. The would-be lovebirds have an exciting day planned filled with antiquing and fishing with a third wheel village idiot Roger, but a series of unfortunate events cause a few kinks. First, Mick earns the small town ire of the womanizing Sheriff when he discovers a worm in his aik reem (egg cream to us city folk). Rather than accept some added protein with his Brooklyn delight, Mick insults the big-haired waitress/prospective target of police sexual harassment and later reangers the man of the law by reporting a skeleton buried half-heartedly in Geri’s friend’s yard.

Clearly, something is amiss in Fly Creek but this being a ‘70s creature feature, nobody can be expected to act rationally in saving the doomed town. Perhaps it’s due to his helmet hairstyle, but Mick takes it upon himself to harness his inner Scooby Doo and crack the case, enlisting Geri to ‘distract’ suspect Roger, while he compares dental records pre-CSI style to identify the skeletal corpse (it helps that actor Don Scardino bares a slight resemblance to what I imagine Michael C. Hall’s awkward little brother must look like). 

Eventually--and it all does take a surprisingly long amount of time, proving that even in horror, Southerners are just dang slow--the super-race of angry earthworms emerge en masse to ooze through small openings and cause supporting characters to feel very icky.

Squirm is a pretty infamous film that holds the special title of being the penultimate feature presentation for MST3K. On one hand, the goofiness of Lieberman’s low budget yarn makes for ample riffing yet at the same time, it seems a little more aware of itself than truly misguided messes like City Limits or Manos: The Hands of Fate. You’d expect as much from the director smart quirky fare like Blue Sunshine. 

Unless you have a phobia of worms, Squirm is never really scary to adult sensibilities (though were the hairless pinkies replaced by fuzzy caterpillars, I’d still be trembling). Closeups of worm mouths are just kind of cute, while the mass globs of pink squiggles feel more like another brick on the wall in Pink Floyd’s “We Don’t Need No Education” than anything that can actually hurt you. But despite the general limitations of his premise, Lieberman manages to construct an energetically enjoyable and truly memorable little genre film that holds up for a solidly fun 90 minutes of watching.

HIgh Points

Most of the more obvious comic aspects play out quite well, especially the trying-too-hard-in-wedge-heels physicality of Fran Higgins as annoyingly lovable lil sis Alma

Though it never really fits with the lighter tone of the actual film, Squirm’s opening theme song has a weirdly haunting effect

Low Points

On the other hand, the closing credits take their bow to an odd mush of love ballad cheese. At what point was I watching Ice Castles?

Much like The Descent 2, Squirm proves that there’s plenty of ambient lighting to be found without the help of candles, flashlights, lamps, or moon

Lessons Learned

Southerners look down on overpackers

Resist the urge to mock the hot-headed town sheriff until after he walks far enough out of earshot

Italian restaurants are not the best setting to bring up the topic of killer worms tormenting your town

Winning Line

“I’m not a tourist. I’m a Libra.”

Damn I wish I was alive to be hit on in the ‘70s

Rent/Bury/Buy

I’ve said this about everything from Bugsy Malone to Spider Baby , but Squirm is another one of those films I wish I had on VHS as an enthusiastic 8 year old. There’s a joyful sense of innocence mixed with the tenants of ‘80s trash--actually, no. My instinctive followup to ‘70s’ is ‘trash’ but like the self-proclaimed antique dealers that populate Fly Creek, Squirm is better described as junk, probably fitting in mood to what sits between Oscar the Grouch and his can. 

For those readers still attempting to translate my analogies, I’ll explain in more universal terms: Squirm is good clean (if you don’t mind worm guts) fun. The DVD includes what I’ve been told is a highly enjoyable director commentary that may warrant a discount bin price tag. 


Thanks to the one and only Lightning Bugg (not worm), for the recommend, and remember to hit up his lair   for some nihilistic canine action later today!

Un Chien Nihiliste

Many films are broken by poor narration--woe be to Diary of the Dead, which can function as a good movie if you ignore the monotone rambling of an incredibly unlikable character--but every once in a while, the right voiceover can open a story to new depths. Dexter would lose a lot of dry wit without Michael C. Hall's briilliantly honest musings, and Fight Club's rabid punch would be much softer were Edward Norton not such a linguistically gifted insominiac. Nobody likes hearing dull speakers recapping their autobiographies; the same goes for a bland performer underscoring the events of a film plot.


Since film is primarily a visual medium, narration must also be justified by the needs of a story. The studio cut of Blade Runner is such an abomination because Decker never seems to be the kind of man to articulate his feelings, much less ramble on about them for an unseen audience to share. On the other hand, The Prestige plays with a diary reading, Cockney speaking Christian Bale as he ties Hugh Jackman's magician in knots and advances the plot along the way.

Thankfully Baxter, a 1989 French thriller (of sorts) utilitzes one of the most refreshing and necessary narrators of recent film history: a sociopathic, philosophically minded, and positively adorable bull terrier that may or may not have been the European answer to the all American, Bud-Lite swilling Spuds McKenzie.


Quick Plot: With the Camus-esque voice of Maxime Leroux, Baxter tells us how he has always been fascinated by human beings. Soon he is plucked from a dog shelter and placed with an elderly, not overly canine-friendly woman who can't decide what to think about her underwear-sniffing companion. Baxter, however, is fairly sure how he feels: he loathes his new madam for her bland lifestyle (best represented by her sterile odor) and wastes little time finding a replacement family in the young, amorous couple next door. It's a dog's life until the arrival of a weak, disgusting creature commonly referred to as the baby. Luckily for Baxter, a young boy in desperate need of a best friend lives nearby. The typical game of fetch and obstacle course adventure follow cheerfully and it seems that our purebred has finally found his soulmate...except, of course, said soulmate happens to be a budding Hitler afficionado already constructing a neighborhood replica of the Fuhrer's suicide bunker.

I've met dogs like Baxter--usually, they're shiba inus, chows, or some other beatuiful but aloof breed--and, as someone who spent a few years working in the dog industry can say, I wouldn't put it past some canines to spout off Sartre or muse about the importance of discipline during their generous spare time. While I truly believe that most dogs want nothing more than a scratch on the belly and a bowl of kibble, there are certainly exceptions. Observe a police dog interacting with his master and you'll notice little affection but serious respect. There are indeed animals that prefer the latter. Personally, I'll keep my lick-happy lab mix, but damned if I'm not thoroughly fascinated and impressed by the complexities of the Baxters in the world.

High Points
The choice of a bull terrier as the lead is perfect: as dogs go, they have the capacity to do serious damage, but those petite bodies and oversized football heads (they always remind me of the Canadian South Park residents) add such a unique cuteness to their overall impression that it's easy to sympathize immediately with our antihero

Young Francois Driancourt's performance as Charles is thoroughly unsettling


Baxter's self-loathing during a sex scene (no doggie style jokes, please) is just plain hysterical


Low Points
Some of the human drama, including a typical teenage rebellion, fall a little flat when all we really want is to hear Baxter's observations


Lessons Learned
Telling a girl she looks like Eva Braun will get you some L-O-V-I-N', at least in 1980s France

Pavlov knew his shit


For a typical French teenager, the death of four puppies is far more tragic and unforgivable than the death of 6 million Jews


The Itching Flea Question
I had some hesitations about watching this movie as I fall into that ridiculously unbalanced demographic of people who can stomach monsters ripping open human stomachs but get teary eyed and offended at the slightest suggestion of animal violence. There is a small amount of dog attackage in Baxter, but thankfully, the editing makes it fairly clear that no bull terriers were harmed badly while filming. In terms of the story, the dog is portrayed as such an animorphosized character that you don't really look at him the same way as say, Will Smith's dream shepherd in I Am Legend. The best example of this comes during Baxter's Baby Plan: as you watch, consider where your sympathies lie and if and how they change.

Rent/Bury/Buy
Sadly this DVD is rather empty, with no special features explaining how many pups played Baxter or what happened to disturbingly good child actor Driancourt. Still, it's a wonderfully weird and unsettling film that's unlike anything I've ever seen. You probably won't recognize anybody involved with the production, but Baxter--a favorite of camp king John Waters--is certainly something to remember.