92 - Snakes on a Plane review

What kind of review of Snakes on a Plane would it be without talking about that title? You know, the painfully simple mission statement of a Samuel L. Jackson vehicle that has generated wild amounts of buzz, from the web on outward? It’s a perhaps unintentional piece of marketing genius, bringing an unusual and silly self-awareness to itself that many see as clever, and thus attach themselves to it in a declaration of their intent to enjoy the fun. After all, how often do you see movies with titles like Love Story on a Sinking Ship, Gay Writer Struggling With Personal Issues, or Tom Cruise Playing Soldier?

The title serves another marketing function, which is making the film near review proof. Many of the viewers have already made up their mind as to whether or not they'll be extolling it's slithery virtues or smashing the bold stupidity, regardless of whether or not it truly does deliver the goods. Snakes On a Plane has its own pop-culture seal of approval long before ever leaving the runway, but that still doesn’t answer the fundamental question we each ask before every film; is it any good?

The plot to this combination of B-disaster and D-horror, as if you don’t already know enough: FBI agent Nelville Flynn (Jackson, who claims to have signed on primarily because of the title) has to transport a witness from Honolulu to Los Angeles. Needing this witness out of the picture, the Cartoonish Asian Gangster that faces jail time forgoes bribery, sniper rifles, and explosives, instead opting to pack the plane with a crate full of venemous snakes. The crate releases its deadly contents halfway through the flight, ensuring much reptilian mayhem at 40,000 feet, although dozens somehow manage to infiltrate coach without a single person noticing for about ten minutes.

It’s fairly gory, gruesome stuff, with many of the kill scenes reportedly inspired by fan suggestions. The CG poisonous snakes and the benign real life impersonators bite people in the genitals, crawl in and out of orifices, and do a lot of threatening hissing. While oftentimes a bit gross, there exists little to squirm about, unless you find exaggerated f/x driven snake-kills disturbing.

Snakes on a Plane’s passenger list is pretty standard fare. The calm flight-attendant on her final trip, a rapper and his bodyguards, two unattended children, a honeymooning couple, a snooty rich girl who totes a Chihuahua, and so fourth. I was surprised at a couple of the deaths, as well as some of the people to walk off unscathed. Of course, characters that the screenplay needs to move to the next page get pretty lucky when dodging cobras. At one point, the film uses the Unconscious Helpless Woman gimmick twice in ten minutes, and there sure is a lot of light-hearted kissing at the end considering the number of bloated corpses within a stone’s throw.

The best thing about the film is Jackson, whose jumping on board allowed the Internet buzz to take off. His ability to enhance any material from serious drama to action junk has ensured that he can excite audiences like precious few actors can, something Snakes on a Plane wisely utilizes. At 57 he likely would have retired from FBI field-work twenty years ago, but he still looks a hell of a lot cooler than most. The much hyped moment where he loses his patience and spouts off our favorite incestuous curse word somehow manages to celebrate his image instead of lampooning it.

So is the film any good? Not really. It never enters truly bad territory, but ends up only being good enough that to cop to liking it won’t feel embarrassing. Though the hype suggested either an awful miscarriage or a gleeful guilty pleasure, ultimately it’s just an amusing late summer distraction. If that sounds good, then step aboard, if not, then thanks, but no snakes.

2.5 out of 5