Movie Pick

A-OK Slugfest

Slither (R)

originally published April 5, 2006

Watching a movie in a theater can be quite the subjective experience. A great flick can bring you out of a funk like nothing else in the world, but as a critic, I forever run the risk of losing objectivity (as if that were even the objective) due to a poor viewing environment. Mark Friday, Mar. 31, 2006, on your calendars, kiddos, as the worst cinematic experience of my life. Your intrepid reviewer not only almost had his ass kicked by an inconsiderate father who didn’t like my asking him to shush his understandably bored toddler, but I missed the first five minutes of Slither due to teenagers less interested in the movie than in making lots of noise. Now, why did I feel the need to tell you that? It proves just how engrossing (emphasis on, you guessed it, gross) and diverting James Gunn’s Slither was, that’s why.

The film opens with a meteor streaking toward Earth, eroded to a tiny rock before striking and cracking open like an egg. Uh-oh, look out humanity! It is an egg that hatches a grody (that’s a technical term) giant slug, whose collective consciousness has one thing in mind: repopulation. On a walk through the woods of a small Southern town, Grant Grant (a bald Michael Rooker, who, frankly, is pretty disgusting before transforming into what I imagine an inside-out anus to look like), rich husband to the beautiful Starla (Elizabeth Banks, The 40 Year-Old Virgin sexpot), gets stung, and the invasion is on. Two phallic, taloned tentacles protruding from his belly are all Alien Grant needs to infect the world with his brand of zombie slugdom. Thankfully, for the world’s sake, the police force of little Wheelsy, led by Sheriff Bill Pardy (Nathan Fillion, Serenity), is on the case, following Grant’s trail of mutilated pets and farm animals to a secluded barn where the slugs all break loose.

Filled with visual puns and witty gems, Slither is further evidence that Nathan Fillion deserves Hollywood A-list stardom. His wiseacre-with-depth persona (see "Firefly," Serenity) is exactly what the cinematic world needs now. Pretty boys are so 2000. Everybody’s sick of that nutjob Tom Cruise and Matthew McConaughey’s hair plugs can’t last forever. Meatheads like Arnold Schwarzeneggar, Sylvester Stallone and Vin Diesel lack the requisite self-deprecation, not to mention smarts. (Did anybody else witness Diesel’s recent “Daily Show” appearance? Yikes.) Fillion, so the ladies tell me, is hot, funny and talented. Come on, Hollywood, this man’s ready for the big-time. Cast him in a potentially blockbusting comic book property. Who needs Nic Cage as the Ghost Rider? Mark Steven Johnson already ruined Daredevil by allowing Ben Affleck to don The Man Without Fear’s kick-ass devil-red costume.

The directorial debut of James Gunn, the former resident of Tromaville who went on to script 2004’s superior Dawn of the Dead remake, makes a strong case for Gunn's inclusion in horror’s new vanguard, alongside Rob Zombie (who makes a vocal cameo), Alexandre Aja and Shaun of the Dead’s Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg. Slither is a hell of a lot smarter than you’d think an alien-invasion-by-slugs-that-turn-the-populace-of-a-small-town-into-flesh-eating-zombies (is that redundant?) movie ever could be. Gunn, who also wrote The Specials - a low-budget superhero parody Justice Leagues better than Mystery Men - brilliantly de-MST-ifies his film. (MST = "Mystery Science Theater" for you non-geeks.) All of Slither pokes fun at itself so thoroughly that MST's Mike (or Joel, if that’s the way you swing) and the Bots would be beaming with parental pride. Gunn sends up everything: science fiction, B-movies, the reinvigorated zombie subgenre, Takashi Miike and Jaws, specifically. Wheelsy’s Mayor Jack MacReady (Gregg Henry) is afraid his town’s lucrative deer season will be interrupted by the slug-like alien invasion; like Murray Hamilton’s Honorable Larry Vaughn from Jaws, he is right. Even the mayor’s surname – MacReady was the moniker of Kurt Russell’s character in John Carpenter’s underrated alien masterpiece, The Thing – winks at the audience.

The intelligence of Gunn’s work having been duly noted, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention his studiousness. The time that Troma cofounder Lloyd Kaufman spent mentoring the lad was well-spent. In Slither, Gunn manages to pull off the horror trifecta. He never sentimentalizes his characters. Anybody - star, child, dog - is up for zombification. Next, he keeps it fun. Nothing’s worse than a genre filmmaker without a sense of humor. Even the freakiest of horror flicks has to generate a couple of laughs, no matter how twisted, so as to release the tension to be built up again. Lastly, he realizes that the horror - be it jump scares or vomit-inducing gross-outs - comes first in horror comedy. The producers of Showtime’s “Masters of Horror” series would be smart to line Gunn up for a second season outing. He may be only one feature into his career, but the requirements for “Master” status don’t seem to be too stringent. (They let FeardotCom’s William Malone direct an episode.) I’d say creating an A+ B-movie on his first try should be enough to get Gunn in the door.

Drew Wheeler

Drew Wheeler