Try the Amazon reptile scares in Luis Llosa's ' Anaconda'

By Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan

JAKARTA (JP): Absorbing the spill-over from America's blockbuster summer means we're bracing ourselves for more disasters (Volcano), aliens (Men in Black), and ... yes ... monsters. There's something so appealing in the showdown between man and beast that makes it possible for flicks such as Jaws, The Relic and Jurassic Park to glut the global market. Sweep the family crowd.

And rake in soaring amounts of dollars.

Anaconda doesn't veer off the standard MO -- it doesn't need to, at least for director Luis Llosa (The Specialist). A group of people sets sail on a noble quest. Sabotage occurs. Nature (i.e. monster) interferes. Things careen out of control. In between, there is plenty of blood and gore. False shocks. Sound effects. Pumped up music.

Why bother with anything other than the simple premise that gratuity sells? Unlike 'event' movies, Anaconda doesn't have to splash obscene amounts of money on a contract with Industrial Light and Magic.

Despite Kari Wuhrer's trilly claim on Star TV that the movie contains "subtle messages", rest assured there is none, at least not to my scrutiny.

Apart from an ostensible nod to racial harmony, it pays no tribute to pseudo-scientific or quasi-political mumbo-jumbo. It doesn't have the problem of swollen star paychecks - just assemble a couple of attractive B-grade actors and the job is done.

It doesn't have to worry about overhyped junketing, merchandising tie-ins, or even possible cult status. It is a momentary ride through hell, and that's all there is to it.

The crucial factor, however, is to pick the right monster. Not many of us are fond of slithering reptiles to start with.

But a definition is still in order and it comes early in the movie. The Anaconda is not an ordinary snake. It is a man-eating slithering beast. A humungus man-eating slithering beast, 40-foot long with a screeching scream that can be heard all the way from our neighbor's garden.

The Anaconda is not just a ferocious snake. It is a sick snake which revels in spitting out its prey in order to swallow it again.

In short, it is not for the faint-hearted.

As a merry band of documentarians plies the Amazon river to find a lost tribe, the sense of humor is palpable. They're not overly funny, witty, nor multidimensional, but there is something comical about the way they display their character quirks. As if on cue, each is a potential candidate for the giant serpent's menu.

Moral

Perched on the moral high ground is the quietly charismatic leader of the pack, white anthropologist Stephen Cale (Eric Stoltz).

He's the kind of guy you'd like to see more of but doesn't, as he spends a good three quarters of the movie in a coma. Gangsta rapper Ice Cube represents downtown LA in cameraman Danny Rich, a kind of surrogate daddy to film director Terri Flores (Jennifer Lopez, Selena).

Terri herself is a sturdy and wholesome kind of heroine, with a close-to-the-ground pluck that explains her eventual survival.

The rest of the crew poses more questionable values. Boat driver Matteo (Vincent Castellanos) adds some Fabio-meets-Joaquin Cortez sizzle, although his window-dressing status qualifies him to die first.

Warren Westridge (Jonathan Hyde), the team's narrator, is the quintessential pompous Brit (which is enough justification, it seems, for early termination). Kari Wuhrer further explores the bimbo territory as the skimpily-clad, flaky production designer Denise, who is supposed to symbolize sexual promiscuity.

Soundman Gary (Owen Wilson) is the randy American twit who gets to indulge his raging hormones and gullibility and pays for it with his dear life.

They're pretty much the United Colors of Benetton on a Boat, until shady Paraguayan Paul Sarone (Jon Voight) joins by default and turns the expedition into a personal vendetta against the Anaconda.

B-Grade

If there is any solace in this observation, the movie doesn't try to be what it isn't. In short, it is a B-movie and it resolutely stays that way, which is not to say that it is not enjoyable.

It is, in its own pedestrian and purely visceral way, although a lack of pretension doesn't necessarily mean substance over style. Or logic, for that matter.

Pesky or not, no known serpent kills humans merely for kicks. Yet this monster just kills and kills and kills, penetrating every boundary not unlike those super-naturally vicious lions in The Ghost and The Darkness that you wonder why it cannot just overturn the derelict river barge during the first encounter and chow everybody in one go?

Suspension of disbelief, as is required from this genre, is one explanation. Yet, the answer lies less in a mere observance of the Save-the-Best-for-Last creed than in the movie's inability to decide who the real enemy is: the Anaconda or Sarone, who is just about as slimy as any snake can get.

Jon Voight (Mission Impossible), a swiftly rising symbol of miscasting, seizes the opportunity with over-the-top menace. He tries to blend every celebrated Hollywood villain - Christopher Walken, Gene Hackman, and ... yes .. even Marlon Brando's hideous Dr. Moreau -- into his Paul Sarone.

Yet what transpires is no King Lear of the snake hunting world, just a an aging, sleazy, beady-eyed has been with the air of a man who might just sacrifice himself to a snake only to get a role in a movie. Any movie.

In fact, so taken up is the movie with Voight's "ethnic" acting that it leaves hardly any space for suspense. Or direction, as the Amazon's primal beauty pretty much speaks for itself.

Flapping about like a leaner and meaner version of Jim Carrey, the animatronic snake looks...well...animatronic, and is more cheesy than scary. When it ogles its victims before swallowing them whole, you'd really like to get a rubber toy version of it for pranks.

Such is the wonder of Luis Llosa's battle with nature.