Anaconda (1997)

DIRECTOR: Luis Llosa

CAST: Jennifer Lopez, Ice Cube, Jon Voight, Eric Stoltz, Jonathan Hyde, Owen Wilson, Kari Wuhrer, Vincent Castellanos, Danny Trejo

REVIEW:

Much like 1995’s The Ghost and the Darkness, Anaconda is another hokey ’90s creature feature that tries to do for its designated “monster” what Jaws, the grand daddy of them all, did for sharks. With The Ghost and the Darkness, it was a pair of man-eating lions. With the simply-titled Anaconda (recalling the B-movie Piranha), its giant people-swallowing snakes in the depths of the Amazonian jungle. And much like the previous Jaws wannabe, Anaconda just can’t get the hang of this sort of thing. But unlike the lion movie, that was self-serious to a sometimes unintentionally comical extent, Anaconda at least has a goofy, campy element, and its level of intentional tongue-in-cheek humor, while not going all-out with it on as fun of a level as Tremors, has led to it becoming a “so bad it’s good” cult classic that can be enjoyed on a silly level as long as you’re not trying to take it too seriously.

Between the hour and a half runtime and a brisk script (something this thin and silly apparently took three people to write it, credited to Hans Bauer, Jim Cash, and Jack Epps Jr.), Anaconda at least doesn’t waste much time to set-up or laborious “character building”. After an ominous opening text crawl informs us of the factually dubious claims that anacondas can grow up to forty feet and “will regurgitate its prey in order to kill again”, we’re introduced in breezy economical fashion to a documentary film crew trekking into the—of course—deep dark uncharted wilds of the Amazonian jungle (the better to encounter super-sized monster snakes, of course) seeking an elusive native tribe. Our crew consists of our intrepid heroine, documentary filmmaker Terri Flores (Jennifer Lopez), her stereotypical black sidekick and cameraman Danny Rich (Ice Cube), a stereotypical snooty British narrator, the pretentiously-named Warren Westridge (Jonathan Hyde), anthropologist—and Terri’s lover—Professor Steven Cale (Eric Stoltz), production manager Denise Kalberg (Kari Wuhrer), sound engineer and Denise’s boyfriend Gary Dixon (Owen Wilson), and the painfully obviously sketchy boat captain Mateo (Vincent Castellanos). If this sounds like an excessively sprawling cast of characters, keep in mind that a movie like this has to be populated to provide satisfactory levels of people-eating. It’s not far into their voyage before they rescue a stranded snake hunter, Paul Serone (Jon Voight, doing more chewing on the scenery than the snakes do on the supporting cast), a sneering, shady type who dubiously claims he can lead the way to the tribe they seek (ha, what coincidence!). As is likely to shock no one, it’s not long before the crew gets in over their heads with super-sized anacondas and realize they’re no safer with Serone himself.

First things, Anaconda is slickly—if shallowly—crafted; Bill Butler’s cinematography makes the steamy Amazonian jungle both sexy and foreboding, effectively complimented by Randy Edelman’s score, and the snakes themselves are a mostly effective blend of CGI and animatronics. The action sequences are fun enough in a silly, “video game level” kind of way, and we get some shots like an anaconda snatching a jumping victim out of the mid-air, a loving interior view of the inside of an anaconda opening wide to swallow a victim whole, and an anaconda swimming around with a victim’s face visible through its bulging stomach. Suffice it to say that none of our thinly-drawn gaggle of “characters” are defined by more than one or two basic traits, and Anaconda also dutifully follows the unspoken rules of these kinds of hokey monster movies: 1) the snakes onhand are absurdly exaggerated in size, aggressiveness, and speed from their real-life counterparts, 2) they are, of course, nigh indestructible, 3) we get ominous lines like “it’s after you!” as the serpentine “villain” specifically targets the heroine with the determination of a Terminator (including still pursuing said heroine while on fire), 4) there’s a “but wait, there’s more!” reveal of more than one monster, preferably even bigger than the last one, especially after the first one has seemingly been dispatched, like the final boss level of a video game, and 5) there’s an obligatory “just when you thought it was safe to relax” final jolt. And there are of course other horror movie staples, like the bad luck that comes in these movies with being a horny couple trying to get it on, imperiled love interests, and the usual kinds of fakeouts and jump scares.

With one exception, none of the cast makes much of an impression. Jennifer Lopez is the attractive heroine, Ice Cube is the wisecracking sidekick, and Eric Stoltz gets the singularly thankless role of providing a little opening exposition, being incapacitated for most of the movie, and conveniently emerging just in time to serve as a convenient deus ex machina. Jonathan Hyde doesn’t get much to do besides be as stereotypically British as Ice Cube is stereotypically “urban”, and Owen Wilson and Kari Wuhrer fare about as well as most horny couples in horror movies. The only cast member who gets anything to sink his teeth into is Jon Voight, and indeed he does, with a smirking, sneering, deliciously devilish performance complete with indeterminate accent and oddly-inflected line deliveries that devour scenery with snakelike satisfaction. In a movie where everyone else is playing earnestly straight—and therefore fading into the background—Voight has at least gotten the memo about being in a campy movie. Is this lip-smacking hamfest “good” acting? Who knows, but at least it’s entertaining.

At the bottom line, Anaconda is firmly “abandon hope all ye who enter here” for anyone hoping with any degree of seriousness for something that can hold a candle to Jaws, but while its puply pleasures are constricted (pun intended) by its own absurdity, creature feature fans may enjoy its tongue-in-cheek sense of humor and brazen silliness.

* * 1/2