225BatonRouge.com

There can’t be many things worse than an in-flight visit from a horde of deadly snakes. The ascendance of what’s essentially a B-movie to A-class cultural status via a big-name lead actor and the kind of cinematic cheese only ironic Internet buzz would trumpet ad infinitum may be shocking. But, Snakes on a Plane never took itself seriously, and neither have audiences. Critics, too, took kindly to the reptilian thriller/comedy. It held steady above 80% on Rotten Tomatoes its opening weekend (a tally higher than both Talladega Nights and World Trade Center), even though its box office take was a little less than expected.

In an era in which moviegoers often feel hoodwinked by misleading trailers and intriguing premises left twisting in the wind by dumbed-down, go-nowhere plots, America was thirsty for a fun, honest movie that delivered exactly what it promised: snakes set loose on a plane and topnotch butt-kicker Samuel L. Jackson doing his thing to get them the hell off. As such, the movie serves as the surprise bearer of the greatest lesson Hollywood will hear this decade: Know thy audience. Snakes on a Plane may not be your movie of choice, but it’s someone’s. And Hollywood hasn’t killed the messenger, so maybe it will listen to the message. Studios need to stop trying to produce films that might appeal to everyone and watering down unique ideas to the lowest common denominator to do so. No one cherishes the lowest common denominator. Despite the studios’ best efforts—trying to change the title to the anemic Pacific Air Flight 121 or cut it to PG-13?—thriller fans demanded the cheesy title, the cheesy dialogue and more violence, and that’s what they got. And for what it is, it made Snakes on a Plane a better movie.