Before his masterful exploitation efforts Blue Sunshine and Just Before Dawn (see: our October 5th midnight show), mastermind cult director Jeff Lieberman debuted with this nature-strikes-back nightmare of wriggling horror, in which a sleepy backwoods Georgia town is inundated with millions of bloodthirsty creatures oozing out of the mire to feed on human flesh! When a violent summer storm knocks Fly Creek, GA’s power lines down onto wet soil, the resulting surge of electricity drives forth a tidal wave of terror, in the form of an invertebrate holocaust. The worm wranglers on this one still haven’t recovered, for the picture bursts at the seams with a googolplex’s worth of writhing critters, made all the more freaky-deaky by an omniprescent, overdriven, terrifying squelching on the audio track. If that weren’t already enough — the Rick Baker makeup effects, the Brooklynite lead actors doing their best Tennessee Williams, the local townsfolk playing themselves, the jaw-dropping worm photography, the authentic folksy charm and the thick humidity permeating this Southern affair all solidly nail Squirm into the gilded pantheon of drive-in horror history.
Dir. Jeff Lieberman, 1976, 35mm, 93 min.