The longevity of Jeff Lieberman’s Squirm has been largely due to its unjust classification as a cult classic. Granted, the production is very poorly made yet it does not find its proper niche alongside Ed Wood’s features or Coleman Francis’s The Beast of Yucca Flats in Mystery Science Theater 3000 for the film not only exhibits–albeit fleeting–moments of watchability as well as a smidgeon of insight and craft. In the end, Squirm barely stays afloat above the jetsam of “horrible” while clocking in at “severely below par.”

On September 29, 1975 Mick (Don Scardino) arrives in Fly Creek, Georgia via New York to visit his girlfriend, Geri Sanders (Patricia Pearcy). The rural town has just experienced a devastating electrical storm which has left most of the roads flooded. Unbeknownst to the populace, a power line broke during the proceedings and is electrifying the soaked soil. The result is millions of highly irritated worms.

Yes, the premise, atop the secondary acting and photography, make Squirm a prime candidate for cult status. However, Scardino’s fair to middling performance defies the production, as does Lieberman’s occasional wry quip alongside Rick Baker presenting a very out of proportion moment of eerie effectiveness by way of his consummate makeup effects. Even though Sheriff Jim Reston (Peter MacLean) uses the alibi that it is too hot to file a police report as Naomi Sanders (Jean Sullivan) awaits, replete with comatose stare, to say her lines in between producing one joint after another from her between her breasts, Squirm even threatens to lapse into scathing genre parody.

It is largely due to Lieberman’s novice control that the work falls short of committing to B-movie mayhem, the consequence of such often resulting in inadvertent comedy at the film’s expense. Instead, it manages to keep the viewer partially interested yet never involved for more than half a scene. In short, Squirm evokes casual disinterest in its audience, nothing more.

Perhaps Jeff Lieberman’s fledging skill as a filmmaker fails to do him justice at the end of the day. If the writer-director were slightly worse at his trade, Squirm might well merit the cult accolades which it currently receives. Regardless, the work fails, first and foremost, to satisfy but refuses to aim for rock bottom in order to merit the label of B-movie proper. Thus, the production is unsuccessful on most every level and is, sadly, just that, a poorly made movie.

-Egregious Gurnow