Many years ago, an innocent and far younger version of myself picked this movie up as I was perusing the local video store, hoping to find something to entertain my friends and I that night. My eyes fell onto this movie, "snake island" it said, in bold writing. I thought it sounded like a decent movie, id never heard of this William Katt guy and I was willing to give an hour and forty odd minutes of my life to ride the emotional fear filled roller-coaster the blurb on the back promised.
"Fear strikes without warning" are the words branded on the cover, well let me warn you dear readers, fear strikes about two and a half minutes into this movie, as you consider the money you have spent on it, the long path ahead to reach the credits and the judgment you are undoubtedly getting from any friends you have unwittingly subjected to the movie.
It has been a little short of ten years since I first watched this movie, but it certainly has haunted me, coming backs in flashes of agonizing memory, leaving me crippled in mind and body. I could dissect this film, scene by scene and warn you of the dangers you are going to visually and audibly absorb but instead I will simply mention what happens in some of the main scenes and the terrible themes that now, and for ever will haunt me.
First and foremost is William Katt. We are supposed to believe he is some pseudo intellectual / complete man hulk, which is traveling to research a book he is apparently writing. The only really substantial background you are given of his character is between Mr. and Mrs. Cliché honeymooners that he once wrote a book about sharks, which is believed to have caused some mass culling of all sharks, around the world (I am guessing so he would not have a subject matter for a follow up novel).
Now I don't know if it's the fact he is constantly looking directly into the camera, dresses like an aging member of the beach boys, is constantly quoting or making reference to literature in order to make it clear he has some great store of wisdom, or that even when your prayers are answered and he appears to die in the film, he still comes back like the zombie patron saint of terrible acting, but one thing is abundantly clear to me and its that he certainly doesn't look fit to fight off a piece of paper caught in a sudden breeze let alone a slithering tsunami of snakes. I have only had the misfortune of bearing witness to two of the films in his horror show of a career but for a man who was supposedly seriously considered for the role of Luke sky-walker, I wouldn't see fit to cast him as a nameless character who dies off screen and is never mentioned or in fact acknowledged by any other character of said film.
The second thing I feel I must mention is the "party" scene, now I feel it was the directors (Wayne Crawford – a terrible director who casts himself in his own movies because he cant find enough desperate actors with aspirations of career suicide) intention to make this scene provocative and arousing, as well as scary and dangerous and I for one feel he might have actually achieved that, but in a somewhat strange manner, perhaps like sleeping with a beautiful woman whom you are 99% sure is actually your sister. For those of you yet to experience this movie, be ready for this scene because it is truly the beginning of the end of your will to survive. Ill break it down as best I can. The characters of the film are drinking down water from scotch bottles and getting inappropriately loose. Suddenly one of the characters, the black chick who's only really notable contributions to the movie besides this scene are her screaming in the opening boat scene, and later running through the jungle naked save for a clear shower curtain. Suddenly she decides that some terrible music and topless dancing is in order, much to the delight of the other patrons. Things spiral out of hand and very soon you have to witness two women begging William Katt to take off his sky blue shame in fabric form he calls a shirt. The main problem with this scene is not even having to see a topless version of William Katt, it's the fact that this is the scene where the audience is shown that the snakes in this film can in fact understand the English language, and also are not fans of anyone who happens to say something negative about them. What the f?, that's what I asked myself then, and that's what I ask myself now. What a terrible idea you might be thinking, and I wish who ever wrote the script for this movie (I am looking at you Wayne Crawford!) felt the same way, but alas their mind went with the other side of the coin, and thus the snakes end up doing things such as singing and pretending to be an erect penis but those are traumatic experiences for later on, I am talking about the party scene now and as such let me mention the snake dancing. Oh yes the snakes, they dance in some rigid robotic fashion that has obviously not gone out of fashion on Snake Island. I feel I could and should mention so much more, but I think with those two things I shall stop, if only so that I know other people have had to consider and think about the terrible things this film has made me see, think and feel. Snake Island is much like a snake's venom, it slowly let excruciatingly painfully kills you and robs you of your resolution to be alive. A truly terrible film
"Fear strikes without warning" are the words branded on the cover, well let me warn you dear readers, fear strikes about two and a half minutes into this movie, as you consider the money you have spent on it, the long path ahead to reach the credits and the judgment you are undoubtedly getting from any friends you have unwittingly subjected to the movie.
It has been a little short of ten years since I first watched this movie, but it certainly has haunted me, coming backs in flashes of agonizing memory, leaving me crippled in mind and body. I could dissect this film, scene by scene and warn you of the dangers you are going to visually and audibly absorb but instead I will simply mention what happens in some of the main scenes and the terrible themes that now, and for ever will haunt me.
First and foremost is William Katt. We are supposed to believe he is some pseudo intellectual / complete man hulk, which is traveling to research a book he is apparently writing. The only really substantial background you are given of his character is between Mr. and Mrs. Cliché honeymooners that he once wrote a book about sharks, which is believed to have caused some mass culling of all sharks, around the world (I am guessing so he would not have a subject matter for a follow up novel).
Now I don't know if it's the fact he is constantly looking directly into the camera, dresses like an aging member of the beach boys, is constantly quoting or making reference to literature in order to make it clear he has some great store of wisdom, or that even when your prayers are answered and he appears to die in the film, he still comes back like the zombie patron saint of terrible acting, but one thing is abundantly clear to me and its that he certainly doesn't look fit to fight off a piece of paper caught in a sudden breeze let alone a slithering tsunami of snakes. I have only had the misfortune of bearing witness to two of the films in his horror show of a career but for a man who was supposedly seriously considered for the role of Luke sky-walker, I wouldn't see fit to cast him as a nameless character who dies off screen and is never mentioned or in fact acknowledged by any other character of said film.
The second thing I feel I must mention is the "party" scene, now I feel it was the directors (Wayne Crawford – a terrible director who casts himself in his own movies because he cant find enough desperate actors with aspirations of career suicide) intention to make this scene provocative and arousing, as well as scary and dangerous and I for one feel he might have actually achieved that, but in a somewhat strange manner, perhaps like sleeping with a beautiful woman whom you are 99% sure is actually your sister. For those of you yet to experience this movie, be ready for this scene because it is truly the beginning of the end of your will to survive. Ill break it down as best I can. The characters of the film are drinking down water from scotch bottles and getting inappropriately loose. Suddenly one of the characters, the black chick who's only really notable contributions to the movie besides this scene are her screaming in the opening boat scene, and later running through the jungle naked save for a clear shower curtain. Suddenly she decides that some terrible music and topless dancing is in order, much to the delight of the other patrons. Things spiral out of hand and very soon you have to witness two women begging William Katt to take off his sky blue shame in fabric form he calls a shirt. The main problem with this scene is not even having to see a topless version of William Katt, it's the fact that this is the scene where the audience is shown that the snakes in this film can in fact understand the English language, and also are not fans of anyone who happens to say something negative about them. What the f?, that's what I asked myself then, and that's what I ask myself now. What a terrible idea you might be thinking, and I wish who ever wrote the script for this movie (I am looking at you Wayne Crawford!) felt the same way, but alas their mind went with the other side of the coin, and thus the snakes end up doing things such as singing and pretending to be an erect penis but those are traumatic experiences for later on, I am talking about the party scene now and as such let me mention the snake dancing. Oh yes the snakes, they dance in some rigid robotic fashion that has obviously not gone out of fashion on Snake Island. I feel I could and should mention so much more, but I think with those two things I shall stop, if only so that I know other people have had to consider and think about the terrible things this film has made me see, think and feel. Snake Island is much like a snake's venom, it slowly let excruciatingly painfully kills you and robs you of your resolution to be alive. A truly terrible film