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I’ll be honest here. This may be the hardest review I’ve ever had to write. I mean, what can I say about this movie that hasn’t already been said? And how can I even begin to explain the Snakes on a Plane phenomenon? For months (actually, well over a year), Snakes has gotten almost as much Internet hype as Paris Hilton. There have been Snakes blogs and Snakes forums and homemade Snakes T-shirts popping up all over the place. So how could I not get caught up in the hype and rush right out to see it?
Since the Snakes people figured they didn’t need the extra publicity, there weren’t any press screenings. And that was a brilliant move—because we critics ended up seeing the movie at the best possible time, with the best possible crowd. We had a few drinks on Thursday night before catching the very first screening at 10 p.m. So we were there with the freaks—the ones wearing their homemade Snakes T-shirts, who smuggled in plastic snakes (despite the theater’s threats of confiscation), who screamed and hissed and laughed and cheered through the whole thing. And say what you want about film critics being bitter and cynical, but most of us (myself included) were laughing and cheering and quoting lines right along with them.
Had there been a lot of dialog and complex plot lines in the movie, none of us would have been able to keep up—since it was often too noisy to hear what was going on. And, for once, it wasn’t annoying at all. In fact, it would have been annoying had people actually been calm and quiet through the whole thing. Because this is not a calm and quiet movie. And, fortunately, Snakes on a Plane doesn’t waste a lot of time with things like plot. That’s not the point. The point is there are snakes. On a plane. And they’re attacking everyone in sight.
The story is simple. Samuel L. Jackson plays Neville Flynn, an FBI agent whose job is to transport a valuable witness, Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips) on a flight from Hawaii to LA, where he’s supposed to testify against gangster Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson). But Kim manages to get the plane loaded up with deadly snakes from all around the world—and once the snakes are set loose, they wreak havoc on the flight.
Right from the beginning of this movie, you’ll know that it’s not going to be tame. It’s gory and brutal and loud and crude—and it’s absolutely hilarious. It’s an hour and a half of scenes that will make your stomach turn—while, at the same time, managing to make you laugh out loud. Snakes on a Plane doesn’t make the mistake of taking itself seriously. Instead, it knowingly uses plenty of campy horror movie clichés and two-dimensional characters. And, at the same time, it builds itself around the perfect star—Samuel L. Jackson, whose memorable lines, excessively animated facial expressions, and general bad-ass-ness make the whole movie. It may not win him an Oscar, but it will, without a doubt, earn him a permanent—and prominent—place in the Cult Movie Hall of Fame.
Snakes on a Plane isn’t for the weak of stomach. It’s also not for anyone who’s terrified of snakes. Or planes. Or for anyone who’s claustrophobic. Or for anyone with a heart condition. And even the rest of you may find yourselves watching it through the slits between your fingers. But Snakes on a Plane is campy B-movie goodness at its best. It’s not a brilliant movie, but it doesn’t promise to be. All it promises is snakes on a plane—and it definitely delivers.
If you think you can handle it, run right out and see this movie—but don’t see it alone. See it with your craziest, rowdiest friends—and be sure to have a few drinks before the show starts. It’s an experience you won’t want to miss.
Ed. Note: For more on Snakes on a Plane, check out Kristin’s review of the soundtrack.
