Spiderhead envisions a different kind of prison system – one with an open door policy that allows inmates to have a sense of self, to cook for themselves, to train whenever they want. What they are sacrificing as punishment is their brain chemistry for science, played by Steve Abnesti (Chris Hemsworth), following the orders of a protocol commission hoping to cure the world’s problems through dosing. The prisoner has the free will to take an experimental dose – approved with “Confess” – and may face the self-loathing of “Darkenfloxx” or the great need to laugh at “Laffodil”. If Abnesti needs them to express what they think, he increases the dose (via a smartphone app) of Verbaluce. These are weird names (from George Saunders’ short story Escape from Spiderhead, a first-person account that thrives on the careless throwing of those words), and it’s certainly weird to see Hemsworth play this man.
A good side effect of Spiderhead is that performances can have their own power, but not when given a certain dose. Miles Teller and Jerny Smolet, two of the main prisoners, give sure performances as Jeff and Lizzie, respectively. The prison gave them a chance to forgive themselves, as they are both here because of horrific cases of manslaughter. It’s funny, but revealing how the scenes with the dosage in the film, these simulations, which they bring to life by screaming, writhing on the couch and sometimes pretending to commit suicide, leave you cold. Abnesti’s literal act, which turns them in different ways, becomes almost a presumption of a film that imposes its own power, its vague reason for its existence.
Based on Saunders’ short story, but given a distinct stench by cheerful Deadpool screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul Wernicke, Spiderhead seeks disturbing strangeness. Abnesti is not your average evil genius, nor is Spiderhead your average prison, and this is not your usual talkative science fiction thriller. Even the opening and closing captions are scratched with pink chicken scratches, accompanied by a hilarious Supertramp song that launches a soundtrack that openly runs between George Benson, Chuck Manjone and Hall and Oates. But whatever Spiderhead laughs at or tries to sneak into his drama doesn’t shine brightly enough. The film may be so far behind that even its lead role may seem out of place – it’s interesting to see Hemsworth play someone as disarming as it is manipulative at first, but it becomes a heavy expression of the film’s limited claims to science. strength, control. He makes stronger arguments for being reworked, for someone who doesn’t just bring back the “hot scientist wearing glasses.”
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