Snakes on a Plane

It was destined to be just another forgettable action flick, the kind of lame blockbuster that is funded by producers easily dazzled by a great pitch (“It’s Airport meets Anaconda!”). Yet when Samuel L. Jackson took one look at the film’s alternate title, he signed on immediately, determined to deliver the unapologetic crowd-pleasing escapism so straightforwardly promised in its title. At the request of an enthusiastic fan base, quotable dialogue was inserted, a tame PG-13 rating was revised to a hardcore R, and Pacific Air 121 became Snakes on a Plane.

The result is perhaps the jolliest studio-bred entertainment of the summer, featuring actors that are always an inch away from breaking into a silly grin. As cinema, of course, it stinks. The ‘plot’ concerns secret agent Jackson’s protection of a young witness to a mob killing. Their escape-attempt by air is foiled, however, by hundreds of deadly snakes the mobsters have smuggled onboard. In a film that doesn’t possess a shred of originality or imagination, the story is so predictable that it feels instantly familiar, while the ‘special’ effects are so unconvincing, they merit a laugh just by their very existence.

Yet the reason why Snakes is far from the worst film so far this year (Lady in the Water claimed that crown), is the fact that it’s just one long self-deprecating in-joke. Celebrating its utter lack of artistic ambition, director David R. Ellis gives the film a consistently sunny disposition, executing even the most alarming events with his tongue placed lightly in his cheek. This is all worlds more fun than the season’s stale popcorn flicks, notably Superman Returns, yet you wonder why this frivolous depiction of airline terror hasn’t been labeled “too soon” by the same people who boycotted the immensely respectful United 93 (still the year’s best film). Maybe their silence is due to the fact that Snakes is about as scary and offensive as the rubber snakes carried into the theater by countless exuberant moviegoers (who routinely talked back at the screen, and danced to the culminating music video).

Although Snakes may prove to be as fleeting a fad as the Macarana, this film has undoubtedly slithered into our national consciousness through the Internet. From the numerous fan sites to the redundant parodies, this online phenomenon both influenced the film (even inspiring actual lines of dialogue) and caused it to become the most celebrated unreleased spectacle since last year’s King Kong. The secret to Snake’s success, I suspect, is the fact that it allows viewers the cathartic chance to laugh at unspeakable contemporary fears, by masking them within the exaggerated structure of cinematic artificiality. Jackson’s mere presence is a reassuring action cliché in itself, and he comfortably resides in a Zen-like action hero mode, spouting one-liners so campy they might as well be capitalized and copyrighted (samples: “Do as I say and you live”, “Snakes on Crack!”, “All praises to the Playstation”, and the infamous, audience-inspired “I’ve had it with these motherf---ing snakes on this motherf---ing plane!”).

What is most notable about the film, however, is how successfully it captures the spirit of Cold War-era B-movies, like the gimmicky shockers of director William Castle, by molding a present paranoia into a purely fantastical monster. While the animated snakes of this film hiss away any thoughts of Al Qaeda, showmen like Castle dangled plastic skeletons over the heads of terrified theatergoers, providing a less ambiguous (if hollow) threat to replace that of a nuclear Holocaust. This may not be a valid way to deal with real-life trauma, but it’s at least a deviation.

Castle would have been envious of the blatant “cinema as commodity” gimmick that gave life to Snakes. Yet the stunt of allowing audiences to decide a film’s content will only work for films that are of so little consequence themselves. Just as a health nut devours the occasional fast food, so do audiences have the momentary carving to simply shut off their minds, and delight in the consumption of giddy schlock. Snakes on a Plane is truly a tailor-made dish for its own fan base, complete with requested side orders of jarring violence and nudity. The fans will eat it all up, although they’ll have to be careful not to gag on the cheese.

Rating: **1/2 (out of *****)