Snakes on a Plane? C’mon! Are they even trying anymore? You know the movie’s going to suck. They’re not even taking the time to find a name. But it’s not them. It’s us. I can picture the boardroom dialogue:
“How about Rattler 747?”
� Nah. They’re actually vipers.”
“What about Venom at 10,000 feet?”
“Could be a mountain. It’s confusing.”
“Uh, Cobras in the Cockpit?”
“They’re vipers, people!”
“Isn’t a viper, a Cobra?”
“Yeah, I think Charlie’s right. And. . . .”
“Forget the viper! We need something simple. No tricks, so they can get it.”
The seven men and three women look around for a bit, sneaking glances at the boss, trying to read his mind. Charlie ventures another guess.
“How about Snakes on a Plane?”
Silence fills the room for a few seconds, and then the boss starts to smile, and Jacobs picks up on the change.
“I like it,” he chimes in first.
“Me too,” from another.
“Sounds good.”
“Another winner.”
“Anybody want Chinese for lunch?”
I vow never to see Snakes on a Plane. I can’t imagine hundreds, thousands of people spending months casting and filming and directing a movie that turns out to be called Snakes on a Plane. Are they laughing right now, or are they crying, sad that they’ve wasted precious months of their lives on a movie called Snakes on a Plane.
“What’ve you been working on Steve?”
“I just spent six months editing a thriller, a feature film. It’s called Snakes on a Plane.”
“What’s it about?”
“Uh . . . snakes . . . on . . .”
“A plane?”
“That’s right.”
Anyway, I feel like I’ve beaten this horse enough. But even though it may be dead, feel free to kick it a few times yourself. You see, publicity only works if we watch the movie, so we can throw this around forever, and the studio can still go broke, and they would go broke too, if not for the dumbass teenagers.