Samuel L. Jackson tries to fend off a 747’s worth of writhing, fanged death planted by a gangland boss to kill a witness against him.
The whole concept is absolutely ridiculous but let’s face it, that’s kind of the point. It’s basically a creature feature crossed with an airborne disaster movie complete with the usual formula of motley crew of survivors, plucky air hostess, pointy-toothed creatures leaping out at you left, right and centre, and a couple of pilots who might as well have expiration dates stamped on their foreheads. It’s the kind of daft tongue in cheek exploitation movie that could’ve been one of those joke trailers in Grindhouse and it lives up suitably to the title. It succeeds because thankfully there’s no accompanying padding or bullshit; it jumps in with the action straight away and blasts along breathlessly without bothering to introduce the “characters” or any superfluous, soapy subplots. Just motherf**king snakes on a motherf**king plane.
It could’ve done with a few more laughs but it’s entertainingly stupid and handled efficiently enough to never bore. And as dumb as it is, it’s still nowhere near as idiotic as Con Air.