These posts can get a little cathartic sometimes, so if you are one of the people who hate those, you should probably just skip ahead, cause this one is gonna be pretty bad. I’ll start by mentioning that, according to the police, trick-or-treating is only considered trick-or-treating if you do it on Halloween. If it’s mid April and you walk back from the liquor store crying, naked except for an open bathrobe, a bottle of SoCo in one hand, a loaded Glock 9 in the other, the police consider that something else entirely and don’t seem inclined to take ‘trick-or-treating’ as an appropriate explanation. But once I explained ‘Snakes on a Plane’, they understood completely. What is ‘Snakes on a Plane’ you may ask. Well, I’ll tell you : ‘Snakes on a Plane’ is a movie from New Line starring Samuel L. Jackson. Oh, and hey, guess what it’s about.
I would love to assume the execution of the screenplay somehow transcends its soul-crushingly stupid plot, but I’m just being ridiculous. This couldn’t be any dumber if the assassin used jazz-hands for a weapon. And that sound you hear right now is me yelling fuck at the top of my lungs because I can’t even begin to tell you how depressing it is that my unrivaled screenwriting brilliance has yet to be recognized and yet crap like this not only gets bought but somehow navigates the minefield of production to make it to the screen. The movie’s description even manages to jam in the words “rookie pilot” to amplify its dumbness and my pain by 1 million.