Showtimes for all movies in the area. Click here!

'Snakes on a Plane'

By Ben Spierenburg

Movie Trailers

Easily one of the most over-hyped movies of all time, "Snakes on a Plane" is a miserably unfunny flight. Awful acting and lousy directing/writing combine to suck any sense of fun or suspense from the experience, and the poorly done computerized effects fail to convince or entertain. Filled with as many corny clichés as snakes, this flick isn't hilariously bad, it's just bad.

It's a peculiar film that can so capture the imagination of Internet bloggers with a mere four words, then go on to deliver such a spectacularly unimaginative product. Heavily promoted online for the last seven months by a nation of bloggers with "Snakes on a Plane" on the brain, this pop-culture phenomenon turns out to be a classic case of foolishly judging a book by its cover, or in this case, a movie by its title.

Even the hype for this film was over-hyped. Perhaps the news media shouldn't assume that the opinions of bloggers reflect the opinions of the nation at large, and perhaps the hype influence of the Internet is overrated to begin with, because at the 7 p.m. opening night showing this reviewer attended, the theater was almost entirely empty, with a total of 12 expectant fans, all equally shocked at the turnout. At least four times I overheard: "Where is everybody? I thought this was supposed to be packed!"

The story begins when surfer-dude Sean Jones (an incredibly untalented Nathan Phillips) witnesses ruthless crime lord Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson) viciously murdering a prosecutor in Hawaii. With the aid of FBI agent Neville Flynn (Samuel L. Jackson), Jones must fly to the mainland to testify against Kim. Obviously the criminal Kim has something else in mind. It takes director David Ellis a full 30 minutes of pointless and boring getting-to-know-the-passengers fluff before the snakes are finally unleashed on the plane. The snakes are hopped up on pheromones and are therefore ludicrously bloodthirsty, and at first it feels like you've reached some sort of big payoff. This feeling is fleeting. The snake attacks are uninspired, the music isn't chilling, and the special effects are just lame.

This would all be perfectly OK if the filmmakers had any sense of humor regarding their campy B-movie plot. Instead of seizing upon countless opportunities to make satirical jokes on itself, the story is played with a straight face. Ellis loads up on disgustingly sappy, utterly stale scenes involving the fates of the passengers. Claire Miller (an unimpressive Juliana Margulies) is serving on her last flight, Mercedes (Rachel Blanchard) is a debutante with a perfectly bite-sized Chihuahua, and obsessive-compulsive rapper 3 G's (Flex Alexander) is onboard the flight with his bodyguards (played by the agonizingly unfunny Kenan Thompson and Keith Dallas).

As sexist co-pilot Rick, "Anchorman" alum David Koechner is the only actor who seems to know what he's doing, or that the film is supposed to be ironic. Unfortunately, his scenes are few and far between, serving only to highlight the comic incompetence of the rest of the cast.

Samuel Jackson phones in a weak performance, looking strangely relaxed and contented through much of the supposedly stressful storyline, as if he were merely taking a break from playing a game of golf. With the exception of one angry, curse-laden line written by the blogging community, Jackson refuses to give humor-seeking audiences what they are looking for - namely, the fuming "Pulp Fiction" caricature that made him famous.

With a more talented director, such as a Quentin Tarantino or a J.J. Abrams, "Snakes on a Plane" certainly could have delivered on its clever premise. But in the hands of the inept Ellis, the director behind such mediocre films as "Cellular" and "Final Destination 2," it results only in a disgrace. At the very least, perhaps "Scary Movie 5" will figure out how to make the concept funny when they inevitably spoof it. CV

'Little Miss Sunshine'

By Andrew Brink

Movie Trailers

With families, things tend to break and sometimes fall apart completely. A beloved Smurfette pint glass falls victim to the uncaring dishwasher. The sink gets clogged and begins to burble in a way that is eerily reminiscent of Old Faithful. And the lawnmower mysteriously goes kaput after a single pass through the front yard. Or, in the case of the Hoovers, the disjointed family at the center of "Little Miss Sunshine," the clutch in the VW van gives up, financial ruin is just one failed business deal away, and your teenage son - well, he hates everyone, including you.

"Little Miss Sunshine" is the feature film debut from the husband-and-wife directing team of Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, who have made a name for themselves directing music videos for the likes of R.E.M. and Weezer. The film is also the introduction to screenwriter Michael Arndt. With so many raw hands involved, one would expect to sense some first-time jitters. Instead, this fledgling team has created a film that is confident, bright and endlessly engrossing. And for a tale that doesn't shrink away from heartbreak, suicide and the pain inflicted by the sharp end of a parent's needling, it is by far the funniest movie of the year.

Outside of the Corleone family, the Hoovers are the most memorable brood to grace the big screen. The film opens with a family dinner, which in this house more closely resembles World War III with a side of fried chicken. Richard Hoover (Greg Kinnear) is the family's cheerleading patriarch. He teaches a nine-step seminar on how to be a Winner to the handful of people who are willing to pay to admit that they are Losers. His meager life-coaching success extends to his family, where instead of inspiring his kids to become frontrunners, he instills fear that they will never be more than a disappointment. Luckily, the father's iron hand of prosperity is tempered by his wife Sheryl (Toni Collette), who could easily grace the cover of Motherhood magazine. She is patient, encouraging and, most importantly, willing to roll her eyes when her husband opens his mouth.

She is also a saint when dealing with her son Dwayne (Paul Dano), the sullen teenager we've all seen before, but in this case, never hear. He has taken an oath of silence until he reaches his goal of becoming a pilot. He wears a T-shirt that reads, "Jesus was wrong," and decorates his room with Nietzsche's mustache. He clearly considers Nietzsche, who once compared the love of family to the annoying and repetitive pattern of bad wallpaper, as his personal prophet. Not so with uncle Frank (Steve Carell), who is the country's pre-eminent Proust scholar. Or was, until his boyfriend left him for the country's second-most-prominent Proust scholar, and in his subsequent desolation, loses his job and attempts to end it all. He subscribes to Proust's belief that through suffering, we are eventually healed. He just first has to suffer a tad longer while bunking with Dwayne, who is suddenly in charge of his uncle's suicide watch.

Adding to the building tension along the family's fault lines is Grandpa (Alan Arkin), a heroin addict who was booted from a place called Sunset Manor because of a failed intervention (hopefully, we will be shown this scene someday - perhaps in a prequel) and litters the house with F-bombs. But old gramps is softened by little Olive (Abigail Breslin) the youngest Hoover and a Southwest version of Punky Brewster. She is entering the awkward and painful era when we realize we are being judged, and she takes the first steps by becoming her own harshest critic.

So what happens when all of these disparate souls are forced to pile into a bright yellow VW van and drive 700-plus miles so that Olive can compete in the Little Miss Sunshine pageant? Well, that would be telling. Besides, this is a road trip you'll want to take for yourself. CV

Comment on this story | Return to top