There are these snakes.
They’re on a plane.
(Stop me if I’m going too fast for you here.)
The movie defies criticism. Really it does. Almost every review I’ve seen of Snakes on a Plane has said, basically, why are you even reading this review?
It’s a movie called Snakes on a Plane. You’re either the kind of person who’s going to go see a movie called Snakes on a Plane or you aren’t, and if you are, then it does what it says on the tin. Lots of shouting and disastery type action things happen. There are some good lines, there’s some dark comedy, there’s some gratuitous gore and nudity that got added when the moviemakers decided to shoot for an R rating rather than a PG-13. The movie knows it’s cheesy and, for the most part, revels in it. Oh, and dozens of innocent people die in horrible screaming agony with their skin swelling up and turning black and their eyeballs frothing out of their sockets, but the guy whom the snakes were supposed to kill survives and gets a hot chick’s phone number, and it’s not like any of them had names or backstories anyway, so that’s all right.
Gotta see The Illusionist at some point this week, if I can get out of bed.
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