Defanged Fun
Snakes On A Plane
(R)
originally published August 23, 2006
Samuel L. Jackson
I wish Pauline Kael, only the greatest film critic of all time, were still alive. I’d love to read her review of Snakes on a Plane. Rereading her seminal deconstruction of “Trash, Art, and the Movies” (go find it in Phillip Lopate’s highly recommended American Movie Critics), I can imagine her turning her sagacious wit and understanding of what makes a good movie, what makes a bad movie, what makes a good movie bad, and what makes a bad movie good on this calculatedly bad movie. In her article written for Harper’s, Kael stated a movie “can be stupid and empty and you can still have the joy of a good performance, or the joy in just a good line.” Of giddy performances and smirking quotables, SoaP is a semi-packed flight. As FBI Agent Neville Flynn, Samuel L. Jackson, Hollywood’s most fearless actor - at least regarding what movies he will appear in - is enjoying a vacation from stretching his thespian muscles. He may have been better in Freedomland, but he has more fun in SoaP. Delivering the film’s most famous line, scripted by bloggers, Jackson winkingly gives his official stamp of approval with two angry mother-f-bombs. With Baron Badass around, I’m afraid most people will overlook the film’s greatest performance: Todd Louiso’s herpetologist. The low-key comedian - think Steven Wright but lighter - best known for small roles in Jerry Maguire and High Fidelity, deadpans his doom-filled discussions of antivenin so perfectly someone should check his pulse. Two other potential victims, the ever radiant Julianna Margulies and the increasingly amusing Kenan Thompson, also make this flight more comfortable.
Kael makes two more points that accurately apply to SoaP. Seeing the disillusionment of older moviegoers being “simply that they’ve seen it before,” she admits most movies exist for the “millions who are always seeing it for the first time, or for the reassurance and gratification of seeing the conventions fulfilled again.” I grew up loving Frogs, Day of the Animals, and the Joan Collins-led Empire of the Ants. I’ve seen so many animals-attack flicks that SoaP has little new to offer, and what I hadn’t seen before (extremely gruesome and body-part-specific snakebites), I saw coming. SoaP is about conventions consciously re-fulfilled. Margulies’ tough, pretty flight attendant acknowledges the interrogative cliché even as she asks if any passenger can fly a plane. SoaP’s greatest success comes in what Kael calls the “fun of…seeing ‘what everybody’s talking about.’” The brilliance of SoaP is no one’s actually seen what everyone’s already talking about. The movie’s innovative, interactive marketing - the theme song contest, phone calls from Samuel L. Jackson, and blog-inspired R-rated reshoots - has fans smugly knowing exactly what to expect from SoaP. This premeditated fun sucks a lot of the venom from Snakes’ bite.
Snakes Alive!
Snakes On A Plane
(R)
originally published August 23, 2006
Mark Houghton
Snakes. On. A. Plane. Man, I cannot tell you how long I’ve been waiting to see this movie. I think it just may be the best film of the year. Snakes may not be awesome enough to win the Oscar for Best Film Ever - I bet Ricky Bobby would love it - but this flick has it all. Gratuitous nudity, graphic violence, snakes galore, and Sam-Yell Jackson getting tired of “THESE MOTHERF*CKING SNAKES ON THIS MOTHERF*CKING PLANE!” (I’d like to claim to be one of the bloggers who coined that quotable quote, but I don’t blog. I don’t want those losers that live on the Internet to know what I’m up to 24/7.) How can I express my love for a film that puts every unimaginably tender body part in danger? Snakes is gruesome just to be gruesome. (Too bad they didn’t have the guts to let that big old python devour the baby. Imagine if the flight attendant that used to be the skeezy landlady in Kingpin had found the rattling coming from inside that big ass snake. Dang, that would’ve rocked.) Sure, Snakes is badly shot and the acting’s pathetic. You take a plane full of grade-Z beef and tell it to pantomime being bitten to death by a bunch of nonexistent snakes and see what you come up with. (I bet it doesn’t turn out much better for you.) Yes, the flick is Saturday Night Scinema. However, if someone tells you he didn’t like Snakes, Mr. Artypants is lying to seem smarter than you. This movie’s like pizza or Guns ‘N Roses or heroin. Once you’ve had some, you’re hooked.
Now I know your girlfriend, your wife, your mom, or whoever you take with you to the movies might not think she wants to see Snakes on a Plane. Well, she’s wrong, and you must do everything you can to convince her otherwise. Ask her if she wants you to be the laughing stock of the office. (Remind her of the hell she got that time she missed an episode of “Desperate Housewives.”) Lie to her. Tell her it’s not as bad as she thinks (it is). Tell her there’s only one snake (there are tons). Tell her no one gets hurt (not true). Do whatever it takes. You cannot go another week, another day, another minute without seeing Snakes on a Plane. See, it’s a description as well as a title. Damn, I can’t wait for the sequel. Kurt Russell vs. Sam Jackson in Snake Plissken’s on the Plane.
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