Through time immemorial there have been movies that are best, if not only, appreciated when you are so toasted your hand can’t find its way to the popcorn and every time you “click” to change the channel you lock and unlock your car door.
Enter Snakes on a Plane and its star, Samuel L. Jackson.
If it’s animals you want to work with, Sam, then hire a dog.
“You can bring snakes on a plane, but not shampoo?! Where’s the motherf**king logic in that?” screams Jackson at the usual top of his lungs.
Jackson is allowed to slum, I suppose. But what’s Julianna Margulies’ excuse? “It’s called rent,” she said, as she effortlessly zipped up her Karen Black bodysuit.
It seems that criminals have sprayed the premises with snake pheromones, and there’s nothing more dangerous than horny snakes at 30,000 feet – as anyone who has gotten high with Charlie Sheen knows.
So wait. Wouldn’t it have been easier for the perps to plant a simple bomb than easily traceable and far from guaranteed effective snakes?
I posed that question to Homeland Security chief Michael Chertoff: “Snakes are definitely a mid-air danger,” he said. “It’s on the list right after ‘pulling the emergency stop cord’ and before ‘holding your palm in front of a pilot’s eyes to block his view.’ We’re spending billions on workaround periscope viewing technology for that last threat.”
No sooner do the snakes start crawling about when one shorts out the plane’s avionics which, it seems, will short out if you look at them funny. The avionics may have gone haywire, but the silly-onics are still at full throttle.
What’s most surprising about this plane isn’t that it’s loaded with snakes, it’s that it carries a bottle of olive oil. Yes, all food is gone, but planes still stock olive oil. Now let’s pick up some garlic and hang it from the windows to ward off vampires, because your blood and mine is the only thing to eat for the next three hours.
It’s not just snakes on a plane, it’s snakes on a nipple, snakes on a penis, snakes on an ass. Anywhere a teenage boy devotes his concentration, there you’ll find a damn snake. Freud would have had a field day, and he’d be the only one.
“Is there anyone here who knows how to fly a plane,” asks Julianna, “because I want to fly it right into Cate Blanchett’s career.”
“How do we stop these motherf**king snakes?” asked Sam Jackson.
“If only they were repelled by indifferent service and no food like the rest of us,” replied Julianna.
The Internet hullabaloo about Snakes has always been fired by its self-effacing authenticity in acknowledging its own badness. That’s a reason to buzz online, but not to spend your hard-earned money in a theater.
Usually kitsch ripens with time, but this kitsch is rotten on the vine.
Photos Copyright ©2006 New Line Cinema
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