PG-13
Yes, “Snakes on a Plane” is awesome.

A B-movie burrito stuffed with everything you could want, “Snakes on a Plane” is a violent, gory, inappropriate and stupid piece of classic cinematic cheese that could have played as easily in the grindhouses of the 1970s as it does in the multiplexes of today.

One-note characters meet grisly ends; improbable disasters befall the heroes; and entire sequences are filmed from the snakes’ point of view. The only things “Snakes” doesn’t have are zombies and Satanists, but there’s room for them in the sequel.

But why are there snakes on a plane? To eliminate witness Sean Jones (Nathan Phillips), a Red Bull-chugging extreme-sports dude who accidentally witnessed gangster Eddie Kim murdering a federal prosecutor. Protecting Sean is FBI agent Nelville Flynn (Samuel L. Jackson), a cooler-than-cool G-man whose family tree undoubtedly includes Shaft and Superfly.

Nelville is bringing Sean from Hawaii to Los Angeles to testify against Kim. On board, flight attendant Claire (Julianna Margulies) is looking forward to her last shift on the plane, but must first deal with a stable of clichéd characters, from spoiled rich girl Mercedes (Rachel Blanchard) to germaphobic rap star Three G’s (Flex Alexander). Minutes into the flight, the snakes are freed and slithering their way through the plane, attacking passengers’ feet and other sensitive body parts.

Writers John Heffernan and Sebastian Gutierrez quickly pile one mishap on top of another, leaving Nelville Flynn to grow more and more exasperated until, finally, he utters that already famous bit of dialogue about snakes, planes and how tired he is of both.

Director David Ellis is competent enough, and keeps “Snakes” moving at a good clip. Though it takes a while to set up the story, once the snakes are out, the momentum doesn’t let up. The scares are balanced with a healthy dose of schmaltz, and all the actors, from Jackson down to bit players like Todd Louiso as a snake expert, are clearly having fun. All this, plus “Snakes” has its own theme song. Any cheesier and “Snakes” would have to be pasteurized.

“Snakes” was legendary before it even hit theaters. New Line Cinema ordered re-shoots after fans expressed interest in more sex and violence, and, sight unseen, it inspired blogs, music video parodies and countless jokes. “Snakes on a plane” became a sort of Zen koan, an expression of resigned acceptance about the unexpected problems life throws at you.

Amazingly, “Snakes” has lived up to all this hype. That’s ironic, since after all it was the Hollywood marketing machine, with its strict reliance on formula and carefully crafted ad campaigns, that effectively killed the classic B movie. 

“Snakes” works because it fully embraces its roots. It’s campy and silly without being self-aware and ironic, an amazing feat in itself. Does “Snakes” signal the rebirth of an era? Will we soon see the 21st-century equivalents of “The Evil Dead” and “Flash Gordon” hitting the multiplexes? Not likely. “Snakes,” like it’s far-fetched plot, is a fluke, an anomaly. Future attempts to recreate the magic of “Snakes” will fail miserably, and we’ll soon be back to cookie-cutter movies devoid of any charm or fun. We’ll always have “Snakes on a Plane,” though.