A Hollywood Premiere is almost always the hottest ticket in town and, in the case of a large production, it’s a virtual who’s who of big name stars. Police are everywhere, making sure the huge crowds are under control, and crazed girl-screams erupt when a Brad Pitt or a George Clooney step out of their limo.

I remember one of my first premieres--walking down that red carpet (yes, there really is a red carpet!), being blinded by all the cameras going off in “my” direction, and then hearing the screams of passion and need from hundreds of desperate girls. “Ah,” I thought, “at last my rugged good looks and raw sex appeal are being appreciated.” It was then I noticed that Matthew Perry was more or less leaning against me, and though I really didn’t know who he was, it was enough to convince me that the cries of desire were being aimed elsewhere.

The premiere of EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS was rather subdued (The usual star photo-shoot posturing was going on, of course, and the crowds appeared to be enjoying themselves as they gaped at Rossana Arquette and other celebs who were strutting their stuff.), and the absence of an after-film party was disappointing. Most people go to those parties to socialize and/or make contacts. I, on the other hand, try to remain true to the credo I’ve followed for over 25 years: “I came, I ate, and I left.” That’s right, actors hold little interest for me, but the food does! What fascinates me about these parties is the layout (usually mimicking scenes from the film) and the often lavish spreads. Here you can find drinks served from test tubes and supermodels dancing on a makeshift runway on the bar (MISS CONGENIALITY), to endless tables of food against every wall with dozens of ceiling-mounted televisions pouring down scene after scene of brutal football tackles (ANY GIVEN SUNDAY).

Back to the movie! I went to this film with very low expectations. The last flick I saw by Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin was the truly awful GODZILLA. This time, though, I had heard that the filmmakers had done things in a very different vein: spending just eight million on the cast and production, and then putting another twenty million into the spider effects, they took the pressure off themselves by keeping costs ridiculously low.

So there I was, searching for my seat, balancing my popcorn and drink as best I could, and glancing at the actors and their entourages blithering at each other before ensconcing themselves in their given sections. The lights eventually went out (the movie always starts at least a half hour late at these things), various cheers cascaded around the room as credits were rolled and the individual actor’s friends vented their approval, and--finally--it began.

EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS is an amalgam of 1950’s horror clichés pulled together in one movie. The goal? To crack through the sane part of your mind and fill you with such an overwhelming sense of the preposterous that all you can do is…laugh. The basics are clear-cut: toxic waste spews into a small stream near a tiny Nevada town, spiders ingest it, spiders grow, spiders rampage (don’t you hate it when spiders rampage?), and then spiders dine on the town’s population. It’s not rocket science but, somehow or other, it works!

Truth to tell, the actors (with the exception of the bumbling deputy, who was brilliant) were superfluous. This was the spiders’ show, and they ran with the opportunity and never looked back. I don’t remember when it happened, but I suddenly realized that I was laughing uncontrollably. I tried to stop and carry myself in a more dignified manner, but every time a spider leapt at some poor human “meal on legs” I burst out again with unconcealed hysteria. In other words, this is one of the funniest films I’ve ever seen (I’m a huge Woody Allen fan. How Jewish angst and killer spiders produce the same effect in me is a mystery, but there must be some odd connection that I haven’t yet fathomed.).

Naturally, there are always critics who just don’t get it. Roeper (who predictably gave it a thumbs down, unlike Ebert, who loved every moment of this flick) never gets such things, refusing to unclench his buttocks long enough to let humor animate his unfortunate sense of seriousness. Some other reviewers thought things lagged a bit at the end, but I was still rolling in the aisles long after the film ran out of spiders.

Personally, I feel that EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS is much funnier than TREMORS (which is a very enjoyable film that shouldn’t be missed), though the human characters in TREMORS are far more memorable. However, since the humans in FREAKS were just snacks, this shouldn’t stop you in any way from rushing to the nearest theater and having one of the biggest laugh-fests of your life.