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Film review

Not bad enough to be good

The title is the best part of Snakes on a Plane, which needed more horrible dialogue and goofy reptile attacks to rise above mediocre.

By STEVE PERSALL
Published August 19, 2006

If only Snakes on a Plane lived up or down to its audacious title, then we might have a movie to perversely cherish forever, like Plan 9 from Outer Space or Showgirls. The movie is occasionally fun in a crummy sort of way, but not as much fun as following its grass roots Internet hype.

For nearly a year since the title and Samuel L. Jackson's casting were announced, Web cruisers have hoped for the worst. Snakes on a Plane seldom reaches that dubious level of artistry. In such circumstances, being merely mediocre is a failure. During its 105-minute running time, the movie has perhaps 15 minutes of magnificently bad dialogue, gruesome snake attacks and leering humor.

Much of that is the result of Internet input that prompted New Line Cinema to shoot extra scenes for an R rating rather than the PG-13 it was originally intended to be. Those scenes are easy to identify because everything else is bland and noticeably cautious. The hiss-teria generated on the Web made Snakes on a Plane more anticipated but not as enjoyably awful as hoped.

The movie begins in Hawaii, not on an airplane but on beaches so hard bodies in swimwear can be displayed. A motorcyclist named Sean (Nathan Phillips) stumbles upon a kidnapped prosecutor being used as a pinata by mobster Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson), who then sends his goons to kill the witness. The attempt is foiled by FBI agent Nelville Flynn (Jackson), who plans to transport Sean to Los Angeles for his testimony. Eddie plots to silence Sean by using snakes to crash the plane.

Don't waste time wondering why the trial would occur in California for a crime committed in Hawaii, or why a bomb wouldn't get the job done easier. The simple answer is: Snakes are scarier and more inescapable on a plane than on a bus or in an armored car.

There is also the opportunity for more victims, and the anticipated collection of horny crew members, amorous couples, unescorted children and fussy passengers. Thirty minutes of such introductions elapse before dozens of smuggled snakes hopped up on pheromones are time-released to kill Sean and anyone in the way. Somebody should have set the timer for earlier.

When the reptiles start biting, the movie's junk entertainment quotient increases. A couple joining the Mile High Club in a lavatory is a gratuitously sexy start, followed in fast order by snakes striking from air sickness bags, crawling into clothing and usually going straight for the eyes when a private part isn't exposed. The pilots die soon after an electrical malfunction cripples the aircraft, leaving everyone's fate to a video game addict (Kenan Thompson), a nice bit of pandering to the crowd that will most like this movie.

Jackson lords over everything with his trademark no-nonsense attitude, more committed to the dumb situations than most serious actors would be. He's game for anything, but the screenplay gives him practically nothing except his unprintable catchphrase suggested by Internet users.

What this movie needs is Jackson tying snakes into knots, or swinging one like a mace or a bullwhip, anything to make the action as ludicrous as that terrific title promises. We see a passenger eaten by a boa constrictor and wish the scene had been as wacky and gross as Jon Voight's regurgitation in Anaconda.

A lot of things in Snakes on a Plane could have been done worse, which would have been better.

Steve Persall can be reached at (727) 893-8365 or persall@sptimes.com.

[Last modified August 19, 2006, 05:43:57]