‘Snakes on a Plane’ lives up to its title and then some

In theaters

SNAKES ON A PLANE, directed by David R. Ellis, written by John Heffernan and Sebastian Gutierrez, 105 minutes, rated R.

One day, should the American Film Institute loosen up and offer a list of the 100 Greatest B Horror Movies ever made, David R. Ellis’ “Snakes on a Plane” deserves a spot on that list.

While it’s true that the movie doesn’t have the unexpected spunk of, say, “Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama” and “Hell Comes to Frogtown,” or the bloody verve of “Microwave Massacre” and “Redneck Zombies,” or the robust sexuality that makes “Frankenhooker” and “The Gore Gore Girls” so critical to the canon, it does have a title that is as tantalizing as one of the best movie titles ever, “Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death.”

As a plus, the movie also is a blast. The film, which Ellis based on a script by John Heffernan and Sebastian Gutierrez, has been basking in Internet blogging glory for a year. All questions about whether it would live up to expectations now can be laid to rest – the movie surpasses them.

The story starts in Honolulu, with surfer Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips) witnessing crime boss Eddie Kim (Byron Lawson) murder one of his victims with the business end of a baseball bat. Cut to a shocked Sean fleeing the scene, with Kim’s men taking note and soon learning his identity. Worse for Sean is that they learn that FBI agent Neville Flynn (a marvelous Samuel L. Jackson) has convinced Sean to fly to Los Angeles to testify against Kim in another case.

Since Kim isn’t about to allow that to happen, he smuggles into the belly of the plane several hundred venomous snakes, all of which are stoked into a pheromone-driven rage. The idea is that when an explosive releases the snakes from their boxes, bloody chaos will ensue as the snakes charge through the plane’s crevices and begin their nasty feast.

Everybody onboard is on the menu – the germophobic rapper and his posse, the Paris Hilton-knockoff with the growling Chihuahua, two little boys who are too well-mannered for their own good, the pilots, the flight crew, dozens of others. The method of snake attack is grotesquely imaginative – men shouldn’t stand too long at a urinal, couples should resist joining the mile-high club.

Since “Snakes on a Plane” plays with the conventions of the genre while also fully employing its rules, it strikes just the right tone throughout – the film nods at its pedigree and winks at itself while also casting a group of actors who take the proceedings just seriously enough to ignite the fun.

Jackson, in particular, is perfectly cast. Just as good is Julianna Margulies as the take-charge flight attendant, Clair, who could give Karen Black a run for her money when it comes to how to run a plane thrown into turmoil. Together with these snakes, the comic-book bloodshed, the camp and the dire circumstances, “Snakes on a Plane” makes the current, depressing state of air travel look downright civilized in comparison.

Grade: A-

On DVD

POSEIDON, directed by Wolfgang Petersen, written by Mark Protosevich, 99 minutes, Rated PG-13.

Wolfgang Petersen’s “Poseidon” answers one of the trickier questions to be lobbed out of Hollywood: How do you replace the heroic sight of Shelley Winters – panties showing, legs kicking, weight on the rise – skimming through a watery deep in an effort to save the remaining passengers of 1972’s “The Poseidon Adventure”?

The director’s shrewd answer is that you don’t even try. That is one scene that is so indelibly ensconced in pop culture lore, it’s best left untouched.

With no time or patience for any discernible character development, this new “Poseidon” rails forward, offering audiences a good-looking film rolled in plenty of ham and cheese. This is mostly due to the smoldering, bullet-biting, crazy-eyed performance given by Josh Lucas, whose gambler Dylan Johns is passionately faux-intense, which proves perfect for a movie that courts the same sensibility.

In the film, a huge, rogue wave overcomes the Poseidon on New Year’s Eve, capsizing the ship while sending passengers and crew on a deadly journey into the abyss. Since Johns isn’t about to seal himself in the grand ballroom until help arrives, he realizes he must find a way up to the ship’s hull, through the propellers and into the comparative safety of the open sea.

Several join him, including former New York City mayor Robert Ramsay (Kurt Russell, dependable as ever), Ramsay’s daughter, Jennifer (Emmy Rossum), her fiance, Christian (Mike Vogel), and stowaway Elena (Mia Maestro). Suicidal architect Richard Nelson (Richard Dreyfuss), as well as mother and son, Molly and Conor (Jacinda Barrett, Jimmy Bennett), also add dice to the film, which enjoys a fetish for giant fire balls roiling toward the heavens and the threat of drowning at every turn.

As the body count mounts and the pressure to flee the ship becomes white hot, the cast spends most of the movie soaking wet. The good news is that the movie doesn’t leave them that way, at least not figuratively.

“Poseidon” may not rise to the level of the best films made by disaster king, Irwin Allen, but it is lean and it is tight, with Petersen offering audiences a no-nonsense version that’s as heavy on all the special effects a $160 million budget can buy.

Grade: B

Visit www.weekinrewind.com, the archive of Bangor Daily News film critic Christopher Smith’s reviews, which appear Mondays in Discovering, Fridays in Happening, and Weekends in Television. He may be reached at Christopher@weekinrewind.com.