Snakes on a Plane

Films like Serenity and Sahara have proven that there's gold to be found amongst movies that bombed at the box office. The pop corn guzzling masses might not have turned up during their release, but that doesn't mean the films aren't good.

One excellent example of explosive film making that failed to ignite the movie-going public is the Samuel L. Jackson movie Snakes on a Plane. Enormously hyped before it's release, especially on the Internet, the eager fans salivating for this flick apparently decided they had better things to do come release day.

Which is a pity, because when I caught it's premiere on cable television last night, I realised Snakes on a Plane was pure movie gold.

It's a ridiculous premise. In order to snuff out FBI witness Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips,) an evil Asian gangster (played by Byron Lawson) decides to release hundreds of venomous snakes on a Jumbo Jet flight to Los Angeles. The slithering cargo, all pepped up on snake pheromones, then proceed to wreak the kind of grisly chaos only celluloid can deliver.

It's the ultimate disaster movie, with all the 'screaming American' cliches you'd expect from the genre that gave us Airport and Towering Inferno. But from the moment Snakes on a Plane kicks into action - and a poor little Siamese pussy gets eaten by a rattlesnake - director David R. Ellis lets the audience know that nothing is sacred and none of the passengers can count on the cliches to guarantee their survival.

It's a triumphant movie, full of shocks and thrills. Every envelope you can think of is pushed to the limit. There's more abundant gore, slithering horror and ridiculous one liners than most Hollywood movies combined. Plus Samuel L. Jackson is as ridiculously charismatic as always.

Okay, it's not high brow. But as far as an evening of edge-of-your-seat entertainment goes, Snakes on a Plane delivers in abundance.