I don’t know who had more fun at this Frankenfilm’s first showing: a fellow critic (who was frequently stomping his feet), the audience (who were frequently on their feet), or myself (my feet planted firmly in my mouth for ever doubting this film would fly). After a year of on-line hype, the motherfuckin’ snakes have been unleashed on the motherfuckin’ multiplex, and the Internet generation may finally have its own Rocky Horror. Midway through a transpacific flight, hundreds of “snakes on crack” are unleashed, if for no other reason than to justify the film’s title. It’s up to Samuel L. Jackson as FBI bad-ass Neville Flynn to protect a planeload of clichés: the mother and her baby, the horny couple, the rap star, the socialite and her chihuahua, the snooty Brit, the cute kids, and the flight attendant on her last shift. Director David R. Ellis — forked tongue planted firmly in cheek — leaves no tit, ass, or (ouch!) dick unbitten, eliciting few of the expected boos but plenty of hisses.On the Web
Snakes on a Plane's official Web site: http://www.snakesonaplane.com/
