That chitinous clicking. The scuttling sound just beyond the edge of hearing. Common pests are unsettling enough, but what happens when they stop being common? What happens when they evolve, adapt, and turn their hunger towards us? 1988's The Nest doesn't just pose the question; it rips the answer open, spilling mutated insectoid nightmares across the screen with gleeful, gooey abandon. Forget jump scares; this is the kind of film that aims for a deeper, more primal revulsion, the sort that lingered long after the VCR whirred to a stop in the dead of night.
Island Paradise... Infested
Welcome to North Port, a sleepy New England island town that feels comfortably familiar, almost idyllic. We have the weary but resolute Mayor Elias Johnson, played with gravelly authority by genre veteran Robert Lansing (who knew a thing or two about giant critters from 1977's Empire of the Ants). His daughter Elizabeth (Lisa Langlois, no stranger to 80s horror herself with Happy Birthday to Me (1981) under her belt) has returned home, alongside the town's somewhat green Sheriff, Richard Tarbell (Franc Luz). There's an undercurrent of tension involving the vaguely sinister INTEC corporation and their local experiments, but mostly, life seems routine. Until the cockroaches arrive. And these aren't your garden-variety pests.
They Don't Just Multiply, They Mutate
Director Terence H. Winkless, working under the reliable banner of Julie Corman productions (yes, that Corman family, known for getting maximum bang for their B-movie buck), understands the core appeal of a creature feature: escalating dread and spectacular monsters. The Nest delivers, building slowly from isolated incidents – a dog savaged, strange insect carcasses – to an all-out infestation. The script, penned by Robert King (who would later pivot dramatically to create acclaimed TV series like The Good Wife and Evil – quite the trajectory!), doesn't shy away from the grotesque implications of INTEC's genetic meddling.
The practical effects are the slimy stars here. This was the golden age for rubber monsters and Karo syrup blood, and The Nest revels in it. The sheer volume of roaches used is impressive – reportedly thousands of Honduran cockroaches were imported for the shoot, requiring careful handling (and probably more than a few escaped takes). But it’s what the roaches become that truly sticks with you. They don’t just swarm; they assimilate. Remember that horrifying cockroach-cat hybrid puppet? Or the way they merge with human flesh? It's stomach-churning stuff, rendered with a disturbing physicality that CGI often lacks. Does it look dated now? Sure, in places. But doesn't that tangible, hand-crafted horror still possess a unique power to unnerve?
Embracing the Ugliness
The Nest isn't subtle. It leans hard into its body horror elements, particularly in the latter half. The film transforms from a standard "bugs attack" flick into something far more unsettling, culminating in a claustrophobic showdown within the town hall and the revelation of the truly monstrous "queen." This willingness to "go there" is part of its grimy charm. Reportedly, the special effects team, led by James M. Navarra, relished the challenge of creating increasingly disgusting creatures on a modest budget, finding creative ways to suggest transformations and hybrid horrors that pushed the boundaries of late-80s gore.
While Lansing provides a solid anchor and Langlois makes for a resourceful final girl, the human drama exists primarily to serve the creature chaos. The dialogue occasionally dips into glorious B-movie cheese, and some character decisions might raise an eyebrow. But this feels less like a flaw and more like part of the package – a quintessential element of the straight-to-video horror experience we remember so fondly. It’s efficient, nasty, and knows exactly what kind of movie it wants to be. This wasn't aiming for Oscars; it was aiming to make you squirm in your seat during a late-night rental, and it succeeded admirably.
Still Crawling Under the Skin?
Among the wave of 80s creature features, The Nest might not have the high-concept hook of The Fly (1986) or the slickness of Aliens (1986), but it holds its own niche. It delivers on its core promise: mutated cockroaches causing havoc and gore. The practical effects remain a highlight, showcasing a grimy creativity born from necessity. It taps into that universal disgust associated with insects, amplifying it with genetic horror and body invasion nightmares. Watching it again on a worn-out tape (or a pristine Blu-ray, times change!) still evokes that specific blend of revulsion and schlocky fun. It's a prime example of the kind of unpretentious, effects-driven horror that thrived on video store shelves.
***
VHS Heaven Rating: 7/10
Justification: The Nest earns a solid 7 for its genuinely unsettling creature concept, impressive (and stomach-churning) practical effects work that defines its appeal, and its status as a well-executed slice of late-80s B-horror. It delivers the requisite gore and creature chaos effectively. Points are deducted for some standard B-movie dialogue and character logic, but its strengths – particularly the memorable, gross-out effects and Robert Lansing's grounding presence – make it a standout example of its specific subgenre and era.
Final Thought: Forget elegant terror; The Nest is pure, unadulterated creepy-crawly horror that burrows deep into your disgust reflex, leaving a residue of slime and skittering sounds long after the credits roll. A must-see for fans of practical effects and things that go crunch in the night.