Detectives Lorena (Lorena Iglesias) and Marta (Marta Bassols) are called in to investigate a bizarre murder in which the remains of the victim amount to little more than a puddle of goo. This puts them hot on the trail of a serial killer (Moisés Richart) who – let me check my notes here – is a giant, alien tarantula disguised as a human with an insatiable craving for blood and semen, which is necessary for him to construct a web to return to his original dimension. He acquires this by – quick check of the notes again – fellating his unsuspecting prey to death. Yes, you did read that correctly, but feel free to go back and read it again just to be certain.
Ion De Sosa’s quite frankly head-scratching concoction may only run for forty-eight minutes, but that forty-eight minutes brims with bewildering oddness, plus so many close ups of penises that you’ll be wondering when one will have your eye out. Safe to say that, for a great many viewers, watching some bloke receiving a lethal blowjob will be the cue for them to find something else to watch but, in a twisted way, it’s their loss if they don’t see this through to the end, if only because there’s truly little out there that’s so casually batshit.
In some ways, this plays out as if it’s a cosy thriller pilot that was sucked (!) into an alternate universe where the controller of ITV just didn’t give a toss about any post-watershed rules, although the workplace relationship of Lorena and Marta heads to the bedroom in a timeframe far quicker than any “will they, won’t they” played out over several seasons. Many of the staples of your standard police procedural are present and correct here, including a panicked public and the prospect of the case being handed over to rival cops. Okay, yes, the main suspect is an arachnid from outer space, but there are still witnesses to be questioned, leads to be followed and chase sequences to be deployed at key moments.
As the body count rises, Mamántula’s thirst becomes ever greater and a potential deviation from his overall mission is noticed by worried superiors out in the galaxy somewhere, leading to the following line: “He’s swallowing a lot of spunk. He already seems different.” I bet whoever rendered the subtitles for this remembers that day at work. As the net closes in and our ‘tecs find themselves ever closer to unravelling the overall web of weirdness, action beats and ever more gooey effects await in a climax that provides some degree of unexpected closure, but still leaves the viewer wondering just what the hell was going on.
Using the word “bizarre” to describe Mamántula is like saying Nic Cage’s performance in Mandy is a tiny bit unhinged. Avant-garde to the point of having to redefine that term, its mix of fantasy horror, homoerotic set-ups and crime series trappings places De Sosa’s film on a shelf all of its own. The Berlin settings lend the tale a smear of urban grit, but that doesn’t prevent a detour out into a glittery cosmos where a gathering of space spiders ponder the proceedings down on planet Earth. Say what you like, you don’t get that during your weekly dose of Law And Order.
Packing a number of daring ideas into its maxi-short/mini-feature runtime, Mamántula may be purposely short on explanation, but it’s long on offbeat characterisation and gloopy gore scenes. It also possesses a surprising amount of heart and humour, which goes some way to offsetting its graphic, absurdist excesses. This is outlandish genre fare for people who already like outlandish genre fare. Ultimately, it may not have the time to develop everything set out in its unique vision but, if you can stay the course, you’re unlikely to forget this one in a hurry.
Mamántula (2023) featured as part of the SoHome Horror Pride Festival 2024.