Slither Me Timbers

Welcome to the Annual February Shortening! In honor of the shortest month on a blog written by a short woman, all posts are devoted to stories about vertically challenged villains. If you, reader of any height, have your own mini-horror to share, do so in the comments and I'll include you in a final post roundup as the calendar changes!

I don't LOVE the idea of throwing snakes in the short villain club; when they do that coiling thing, some could probably tower over me. But hey, Vipers was on Amazon Prime and sometimes, you just have to listen to the universe of streaming SyFy creature features.

Quick Plot: Overhead stock island footage introduces us to a secret facility where government scientists are genetically modifying snakes in order to fight cancer...and terrorists.

Naturally, these titular CGI vipers escape their thin glass barrier and find their way to another small island, strangely enough, one that looks the same in an overhead stock shot. Luckily for the few townspeople that aren't extras and therefore immediate snake scraps, former 3-star military man Dr. Silverton (Twin Peaks' always delightful Don S. Davis) was in the middle of transitioning his practice over to young army vet Cal, leaving the island with slightly more strategic experience (handy in an "escape the genetically modified man-eating snake invasion" emergency).

Also on hand to do some reptile combat is greenhouse owner Tara Reid, her friend-turned enemy Ellie, Ellie's angry teen daughter Maggie, Ellie's cheating husband Jack, the woman he's cheating with, Georgie, played by the always perfect and never used well enough Mercades McNab. Did I squeal in glee when her name showed up in the opening credits? Of course. Did I immediately deflate when I realized that, by placing her smack in the middle, it meant she'd die early? Blondy Bear, you know me well.

There aren't many surprises in Vipers. This is the kind of movie where a mother muses that her teenage daughter will be the death of her only to, you guessed it, die by snaking barely a full scene later trying to save aforementioned daughter. Don't expect much more.

High Points

You know what's probably very difficult? Acting terrified for the course of a 90 minute film when there is literally NOTHING physical to act terrified of. Obviously, the vipers of Vipers are pure computer generated art, meaning director Bill Corcoran probably had to dangle more tennis balls than George Lucas to capture the right eye positions. We can laugh at the SyFy pool of goofy CGI attacks all we want, but as this was made before the network went fully off the rails in terms of style, we should also respect the fact that each actor in Vipers plays their part as if they are genuinely afraid of these almost-ridiculous vipers.

Low Points

There are three white male characters who all stand about the same height, with the same dirty blond hair, and have generically white names. It's genuinely difficult to tell them apart for the first 10 minutes or so, and just seems like such a silly decision on the part of casting. 

Lessons Learned

Give a lady a big rock and you become nothing but a wallet

If your lover thinks mistakes a snake for your caressing hands, it's probably a note to moisturize more often

Genetically enhanced snakes bite like hell and more importantly, scream like baby velociraptors 

Rent/Bury/Buy

Vipers isn't anything terribly special, but it's interesting as a time capsule of the era when you could make a cheap CGI TV creature feature and still treat it somewhat earnestly. If the mood strikes you, find it now on Amazon Prime. 

Wait, you mean there are SNAKES on this 'Snake Island?'

Some people are simple-minded. Give them giant 3D robots or Paul Blart: Mall Cop and they’re happier than my cat Mookie sleeping inside a tiny box.

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging with enthusiasm and pleasure.

What I’m getting at, you see, is that as much as I like to look down those who throw hard-earned cash on films that give me headaches or rashes, I’m someone who audibly squealed in joy when I discovered there was a movie called “Snake Island” streaming on Netflix.

Quick Plot: A gaggle of tourists embarks on a luxury vacation in Africa. Destination: Snake Island, a newly opened resort headed by the superbly named Jake Malloy (played by director Wayne Crawford). Sure, (deepen voice) Jake Malloy has a steamy late night sexy flick name and all, but we can’t call him the main attraction when William Katt’s on call! The blond heartthrob plays Malcolm Page, a famed novelist stuck on vacation with a pair of stiff British newlyweds, a smart and sex-ready lawyer named Heather, and a whole lot of hotel employees (the female type of which are really excited to get naked).

You should probably worry about your investments when your resort has more staff members than guests, but if you count the snakes, then there’s no vacancy whatsoever. 

Because by golly, thar be LOTS of snakes! Red ones, green ones, skinny ones and fat ones. Cobras, anacondas, lil squiggly ones and slytherines (that’s a type, right?). 

You might think ‘WOW! So many snakes! This is awesome!’ But we haven’t even gotten started. See, the snakes really display their charm during one of the stranger montages I’ve seen in recent times, one involving two topless women dancing with a slowly shirt unbuttoning William Katt while the polygamist employee chuckles, the lawyer gets it on in the water with (deep voice) Jake Malloy, and the portly snake-shooting assistant gets attacked by snakes...and then more snakes....and a few more snakes. So apparently, it’s either female nipples or the very threat of William Katt’s nipples that awaken the aggressiveness in the serpentine kingdom. 

You would think this is the high point of the film because frankly, when a scene involving dancing loose women, William Katt’s bare chest, water sex and a snake attack plays to techno music, WHAT ELSE COULD POSSIBLY BE BETTER? I was ready to turn Snake Island off at that point for fear of its next hour failing to POSSIBLY match that potential (witness Drive-Thru) but after a bunch of other snakings, something else wonderful happens. And it’s even better than snakes dancing to club music.

Because it’s a snake singing. SINGING! SNAKINGING! And making up his own lyrics as such:

“We hate people yes we do

As far as we’re concerned, 

They’re just something to ...

CHEW!”

Isn’t that ADORABLE? Positively Shel Silverstein in style! Sure, the snake throws in a token ‘bitch’ jibe just because snakes are known for being natural misogynists, but it’s still a singing snake and I’m still in love.

Then our lawyer with pleasant boobs and common sense (though not enough to not sleep with the rather daft Jake Malloy) wakes up and the snake stops singing and I start being sad.

There’s a climax, and it involves snakes. Lots of snakes. Because in case you haven’t caught on, there are about as much snakes in Snake Island as there were chains in Chain Letter. 

That epiphany suddenly seems like the most important discovery since a stoner listened to Dark Side of the Moon while his grandmother watched The Wizard of Oz.

High Points

Sometimes they’re rubber and sometimes they’re made from computer pixels, but for much of Snake Island’s big snake scenes, we’re treated to living and slithering genuine snakes, the kind that make the ASPCA visit the set to ensure their safety if the producers want a disclaimer in their credits. Neato.

Low Points

It’s more a personal pet peeve than actual detriment of the film, but I simply despise people who take a bite of something mysterious, savor its deliciousness, then spit it out in disgust when they discover it’s something as odious as snake. Really lady, I’m sure you’ve had eel stuffed in your sushi. What’s the difference?

Lessons Learned

In Africa, things bite

Having five wives makes you an expert on all things women-related

Resort employees have a wonderfully audience-convenient habit of talking to themselves in great detail

African blonds get incredibly offended when no one will sleep with them. They also dress in the kind of Sexy Policewoman costumes generally reserved for Halloween stores or adult shops

Repeated Phrase of the Philm

A drinking game could easily made to coincide with how many times a character utters the disclaimer “I’m not an expert in ______, but...” Fill-ins include snakes and malaria, though I imagine one could easily find in the deleted scenes a montage of characters substituting the following at different points in the film:

running a hotel

tying knots

snake dance styles

montages

Rent/Bury/Buy

Look, I’m not saying Snake Island is any any possible way a good movie, but heck, it’s set on an island and it has a lot of snakes. And they kill. And they’re colorful. And occasionally, they sing and dance. And then kill. 

What else have you done in life?

Apocalypse of the Amphibians

Frogs is like Who Can Kill a Child, but with Frogs.

Frogs is what could have happened if Kermit never met Dom DeLuise.

Frogs is the original version of Jurassic Park II: The Lost World. Speilberg simply subbed lizards, snakes, and toads (not frogs) for dinosaurs, used Pete Postlethwaite’s hunter in place of a WASPy idiot who can’t untie moss, and then, most controversially, added gymnastics. 

Wow. This is harder than I thought. How about this: Frogs is an incredible piece of cinema that rivals The Godfather and Star Wars for best film of the ‘70s...only my definition of ‘best’ means something very different from that of the Academy Awards voting committee. 

Quick Plot: A shockingly unmustashioed Sam Elliot takes National Geographic-esque photos of toads (not frogs), snakes, meerkats, unicorns, and lots of other animals you probably won’t find in the swamps of the United States. After a boat incident that’s less exciting than the opening minutes of Sleepaway Camp, Elliot’s Picket Smith befriends the rich brother and sister whose drunken yacht steering flipped his canoe and destroyed what seemed to be hours worth of nature photos (I’m basing that on what seemed to be an hourlong credits sequence featuring stills of said nature photos). 

Hard-drinking Cliff and level-headed(ish) Karen (Joan Van Ark) bring Picket to meet their wealthy and wheelchair-bound grandfather Jason Crocket (Ray Milland) on his sprawling southern estate. This is perfect timing for the annual Crocket quadruple birthday party celebration, a giant party set to be booming with top shelf drinks, competitive croquet, and manly pillow fights. 

Only one thing stands in the Crockets’ way: rudely ribbiting toads (not frogs) that have deprived the poor rich family a few snores out of their typical 18 hours of sleep. Despite dispatching a man named after my favorite Muppet to spray pesticide on the Crocket estate, the animal situation seems to be out of control. It’s soon revealed that everything without opposable thumbs and ever to have been captured in stock footage is on a vengeful rampage to annihilate all humans. 

I had heard Frogs was one of the more laughable entries in the eco-horror sub-genre of the ‘70s, but in now way was I prepared for it to be so incredibly Ed Woodian.

To begin....well, I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s just list a few of my favorite deaths (SPOILERS) to see why they’re so gosh darn leapin’ lizards amazing:

-Because they’re in the sky, one character shoots birds and somehow manages to put a bullet in his leg, which in turn somehow manages to paralyze him. This is inconvenient since he lands in a part of the woods populated by an international cornucopia of tarantulas who unite to crawl near the camera and, while the action cuts to closeups of the actor screaming, spin what seems to be deadly tangles of moss to strangle or just confuse the failed hunter to death

-Another grandson enters a greenhouse, unaware that it’s already occupied by a thousand lizards. They spill some poisonous gas (‘cause, you know, that’s what every wealthy southerner stores next to his plants), shut the door tightly with their evil iguanaesque tails, and leave the guy to suffocate in less than 30 seconds

-The eccentric Aunt Iris (possibly the lesser abled little sister of Charlotte Rae) chases butterflies for 20 minutes, frolicking like a woodland nymph high on electric Kool-Aid. Meanwhile, snakes of many colors, bloodsucking leeches, and ominous toads (not frogs) track the touched redhead to eventually bite (???) the poor dear and turn her skin into a shade akin to Violet Beauregarde post gum chew.

-Iris’s husband wrestles a crocodile. By wrestle, I mean he lays on top of it and rolls around as if auditioning for Plan 9 From Outer Swamp.

-The maid, butler, and now single supermodel girlfriend of the greenhouse gassed grandson unite to harness their African American power (I’m not kidding) to escape on their own. Sadly, they see seagulls and hide in a cabin. Later, other characters discover their luggage, thus leading the audience to believe that the defiant trio have been eaten whole by gluttonous birds or a scene too expensive for director George McCowan to film

-Cliff’s wife is killed by a tortoise. Yes. Cliff’s wife is killed by a tortoise.

-Throughout all this bloodshed, Grandpa Crocket holds strong to his party plans, mostly because every killer animal film requires some guy to do so. Naturally, you’d expect such a villain to be saved for a fate worse than all others, and as he wheels himself around his lonely mansion now hopping with slightly oversized toads (not frogs), we salivate in the hopes of seeing a Captain Rhodes-like dismemberment by way of flickering tongues. Heavily edited shots of Crocket’s hunting trophies egg our bloodthirst on. What can a toad (not frog) do?

Um, prank call him. Then inspire him to stand up. And fall. And die instantly. The end.

High Points

Just when you think the film can’t get any funnier, an actual intended laugh is saved for the credits with an adorably animated stinger

Low Points

I like my Sam Elliot grizzled with a glorious garden of greying facial hair. It’s not that he doesn’t look good clean shaven--the man was quite dashing in ruggedly hairy chested ‘70s style--but like Samson and his mighty locks, this cowboy loses a some power sans stubble

Even if it meant messily edited shots of the characters screaming cut with closeups of bird beaks, it would have been nice to actually see what happened to the maid, butler, and supermodel

And the pet toad in the car at the end is supposed to mean what exactly?

Lessons Learned

Toads (not frogs) are quite energy conscious and will turn off the lights when finished with their homicidal business

A mysteriously asphyxiated grandson is no excuse to break party plans

Supermodels are quick with math and know their antiquated terms for time

Being nearly killed by a drunken boat driver will force you into indentured servitude to his WASPy family

Snakes have the ability to emote more than select actors

Winning Line

“I almost came to your room, but the floorboards creak too much.”

Ahh, the ‘70s, a time when bedding the handsome stranger (whom you met three hours earlier) inside your grandfather’s house is impeded only by poor carpentry

Rent/Bury/Buy

Frogs is beyond awful, but it’s a different kind of awful than, say, the miscalculated at every turn It’s Alive remake or a lifeless cheapie like Rattlers . It’s more epically bad than anything I’ve seen in recent months, but when done with the right kind of energy, such a film is enjoyable like no other. It’s a watch-once-with-friends/alcohol kind of film that will give you plenty of chuckles and, possibly, warts. Because by the way: aside from the credit icon, there are no frogs to be found in Frogs.

With a fun fact like that, how, HOW I ask, can you not want to see this film?

Rattlers! Ssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

It shouldn’t be hard to make a decent killer snake movie. Snakes are freaky. They have no limbs. They shed their skin. Their tongues are unnaturally forked and make flicking motions. Their bodies move in the kind of shapes created by rhythmic gymnasts twirling those pink and blue ribbons.  And worst of all, their  little mouths open wider than the Visitors of V eating the Thanksgiving guinea pig.

Like the thoroughly disappointing Snakes on a Plane, Rattlers presents a premise with fangs and executes it with dentures. Somewhere in the Mojave Desert, two atrocious child actors fall into a pit of stock footage rattle snakes. How can this not be a classic?


Sigh. It’s not. Nowhere close.


Our ‘hero’ is played by Sam Chew Jr., a man blessed with a great name and cursed by a severe lack of charisma. As Dr. Tom Parkinson, this herpetologist is defined by a professory turtleneck and need to complain. About money. About women in the workplace. Pretty much about everything.


Naturally, the not-too-nerdy, none-too-cool doctor is called into Mojave territory to investigate the plague of snake-related deaths that has been mildly irritating the American northwest. Chew gets a love interest in what I assume was meant to be a spunky, feminist photographer who introduces herself by pointing out that it's the 70s and women should be treated as equals. To prove it, she waits to sleep with the obnoxious Chew until after their dating montage, a dull two minutes scored with bad flute music and involving silhouettes at a water fountain.

Somewhere down the line, the military gets involved, as does a bitter divorcee and an unlucky plumber. While it's a nice relief to see real live animals that aren't pixelated by a Mac, the snakes are rarely filmed in the same shot as any actor, leaving you little to fear and lots of disappointment upon the realization that these terrible actors never had to face any real live difficulties. Well, I guess uttering dialogue like "That's not just a cart. It's a security blanket on wheels" is something I would only wish on a mildly irritating enemy.


Still, for all its potential and a super teasing tagline--What a Horrible Way to Die!--Rattlers is a major snooze.


Low Points
When a character introduces himself as having a beautiful wife, two kids, a new house, and one payment away from owning his boat, he has no right to survive a horror movie. He does.


Just because you have a man and woman sharing scenes together does not mean you have romantic chemistry

The general score sounds like, as the French revolutionary in the South Park movie would say, ‘zee sound of a dying giraffe’


High Points
A snakebite survivor has a nice little speech about his escape...if only it were delivered by a competent actor


Um.


Lessons Learned
If you 're a fairly good-looking woman, army officials will tell you classified information


Coffee is not a drink


Plumbing is a dangerous profession

Snakes not only bite, they also push people off ladders and set fire to their barns.


Nothing ends a life-threatening escapade with killer snakes and psychotic army generals better than the promise of a 7 course dinner at a Chinese restaurant.

Winning Line
“Birds under a lot of stress eat more. In human terms, they get fat.” Aw, you sure do have to use simple words in explaining science to the university janitor.


Rent/Bury/Buy
Bury in a deep pit and throw some dead rattlesnakes on top. That’s pretty much how the special FX were run in this film, so it’s only appropriate. Not bad enough to be so-bad-it’s-good and nowhere near good enough to be, well, mildly good.