Spiderhole

In the winding heart of London, an imposing yet decaying house stands abandoned, its cracked windows and silent corridors daring anyone to step inside. The city’s relentless pace leaves pockets of forgotten space, and in this forgotten place a fragile community of four art students decides to claim it as a temporary refuge. Their decision turns a desperate act of squatting into an uneasy home, where the very walls seem to breathe with the echoes of past lives.

​Toby leads the group with a quiet determination, while ​Luke offers a more skeptical, practical counterpoint. ​Zoe brings a restless energy that flirts with reckless intimacy, and ​Molly carries a sketchbook that records the world she’s trying to escape. Together they negotiate the blurred lines between survival and creation, sharing moments of camaraderie that feel both tender and strained as they navigate the precarious legality of their settlement and the stark reality of living on society’s margins.

From the moment they cross the threshold, the house exerts a palpable presence. Shadows linger longer than they should, and the creaking timbers whisper hints of something unseen. The atmosphere tightens around them, turning everyday noises into unsettling signals and turning cramped rooms into both sanctuary and prison. As they settle in, a subtle sense of being watched begins to coil through the hallways, suggesting that the building holds secrets far older and more hostile than the students’ own uncertainties.

The film balances gritty realism with a suffocating, almost tactile dread, letting the audience feel the oppressive weight of the abandoned structure as much as the characters do. It explores how creativity can become a lifeline in darkness, how fear can be both a shared companion and an isolating force, and how a thin line of shelter can quickly dissolve into a fight for survival when the walls themselves seem to conspire against you.

Last Updated: November 25, 2025 at 14:55