That, in addition to being the title of (in my humble opinion) Creedence Clearwater Revival's best song (from "Willie & the Poor Boys"), could've been the title of "Slither," which is not a remake of the 1973 cynically comic crime caper with James Caan but rather a loving tribute to every 1950's drive-in B-movie about some kind of menace from outer space. It's not particularly scary (every jolt is telegraphed well in advance) nor especially gory by current standards, nor will the "ick" factor (as seen in the ads) knock your socks off. There are some laughs here and there but this not an "inside joke"-fest. It's a straight-up trip down memory lane circa 1956 but with more money for special effects and of course the "We demand an R rating" language. Tony Soprano's favorite epithet (rhymes with "stock trucker") sounds odd in the mouth of apple-pie Gregg Henry but it fuels my second-favorite scene in "Slither" with Henry in his car barking the term at a guy parked in front of him immediately before a woman with a little girl calls out "Good morning, Mr. Mayor," a moment right out of John Waters at his most subversive.
A big rock hurtles towards our planet and true to the genre lands not in Carl Sagan's back yard but rather in backwoods South Carolina, played with great relish by Vancouver, Canada, the place that (as per "X-Files") apparently can pass for any location in America. Writer/director James Gunn (who nods to his Troma origins in one scene) establishes the mood with a 1950's style billboard and then a montage of maybe the most hideous-looking people I've seen in a movie since Pasolini's "Salo"; I mean these people are "ordinary" with a (fierce) vengeance; I mean they couldn't appear on Jerry Springer----maybe on some future Fox freak show. Fortunately we then move on to the main cast members, who are played by professional actors which means we can at least stand to look at them, but I wondered if Gunn were trying to pull a "Rhinoceros" suggesting that hominids're the "true" beasts, or in this case aliens. Gunn pokes plenty of fun at redneck culture (what IS the big thrill about killing a deer, anyway?) without being too heavy-handed with it---after all it's basically "shooting fish in a barrel," no great artistic effort is needed---plus he wisely lends his local yokels just enough personality to keep us passingly interested in their fate, even throws in a lesbian cop for some variety (unfortunately that subplot hits a dead end, like most of the characters). I won't dwell on the plot points of the alien attack; you've seen everything here before somewhere or other; one image near the end is out of one of the "Nightmare on Elm Street" sequels (sorry I can't remember which one, they tend to blur in my memory); even the film's most striking visual grotesquerie (hint: "Something's wrong with me") conjured up a scene from "Blade." For much of the running time it's a zombie flick only (a la "28 Days Later .") the creatures aren't "really" dead, just infested with parasites somewhat resembling overgrown slugs, etc. In a way there's something comforting about all the familiarity ("Kill the one and they all die, right?"), like the old favored shirt one wears at home without ever wanting to toss it or give it away. I can envision "Slither" as something I'd look forward to on HBO some night (wouldn't be worth purchasing it) with much beer at hand, appreciating the sheer hilarious wretchedness of Air Supply's only hit (hey, I had to hear it endlessly when it was recorded, folks) especially in context of possible consummation of man (or monster) and wife.
Other than Henry (who should only be allowed to do comedy from now on) I only recognized Nathan Fillion from "Firefly"/"Serenity" (essentially playing Mal again) and Michael Rooker (who for me will always be Henry the Serial Killer) who with his bald head and wire-rimmed glasses somewhat resembles a young Dick Cheney, maybe intentionally so? Depending what one wants to read into it, "Slither" could be taken as a sly whack at the Bush gang with the blood-dripping creature intoning bromides about morality and each new disciple becoming just a channel for the creature. "I'll just keep getting bigger," the thing threatens at one point---rather like our burgeoning police state at home and imperialism abroad? Earlier I mentioned my second-favorite scene; the favorite is again with Gregg Henry who (when the lesbian cop exclaims "Praise Jesus" at some slight pause in the catastrophe) demands to know what connection with God she sees in any of this. Well, I've heard the Lord works in mysterious ways ..
Rob Zombie's voice is heard briefly on the phone as a doctor; he sounds, well, like a doctor, albeit with a somewhat sinister urge, let's say. One looks forward to hearing (and seeing) more of him in future screen projects. But here's what I'd like to see less of: dead dogs and cats (even after the closing credits there's a final shot). I know it's not real but it seems a cheap writing ploy; while from "Taxi Driver" onwards I've never expected cinema to be held responsible for the actions of those who watch it, still, to borrow a phrase from a recent Ebert piece, "there is a line." It's been reported that many serial killers started out as kids abusing animals. Isn't that a flame we want to snuff out early on rather than fan it even somewhat by serving it up in glorious 35 mm? But for us adults who know better (in the ostensible R-rated adult audience) "Slither" should induce a fond grin, make us want to dig out our old "Mad" magazines or even "EC Comics" if one goes back that far . By the way: if you're a pregnant woman: did anyone warn you not to see the remake of "The Fly"? Well, don't see this either .
A big rock hurtles towards our planet and true to the genre lands not in Carl Sagan's back yard but rather in backwoods South Carolina, played with great relish by Vancouver, Canada, the place that (as per "X-Files") apparently can pass for any location in America. Writer/director James Gunn (who nods to his Troma origins in one scene) establishes the mood with a 1950's style billboard and then a montage of maybe the most hideous-looking people I've seen in a movie since Pasolini's "Salo"; I mean these people are "ordinary" with a (fierce) vengeance; I mean they couldn't appear on Jerry Springer----maybe on some future Fox freak show. Fortunately we then move on to the main cast members, who are played by professional actors which means we can at least stand to look at them, but I wondered if Gunn were trying to pull a "Rhinoceros" suggesting that hominids're the "true" beasts, or in this case aliens. Gunn pokes plenty of fun at redneck culture (what IS the big thrill about killing a deer, anyway?) without being too heavy-handed with it---after all it's basically "shooting fish in a barrel," no great artistic effort is needed---plus he wisely lends his local yokels just enough personality to keep us passingly interested in their fate, even throws in a lesbian cop for some variety (unfortunately that subplot hits a dead end, like most of the characters). I won't dwell on the plot points of the alien attack; you've seen everything here before somewhere or other; one image near the end is out of one of the "Nightmare on Elm Street" sequels (sorry I can't remember which one, they tend to blur in my memory); even the film's most striking visual grotesquerie (hint: "Something's wrong with me") conjured up a scene from "Blade." For much of the running time it's a zombie flick only (a la "28 Days Later .") the creatures aren't "really" dead, just infested with parasites somewhat resembling overgrown slugs, etc. In a way there's something comforting about all the familiarity ("Kill the one and they all die, right?"), like the old favored shirt one wears at home without ever wanting to toss it or give it away. I can envision "Slither" as something I'd look forward to on HBO some night (wouldn't be worth purchasing it) with much beer at hand, appreciating the sheer hilarious wretchedness of Air Supply's only hit (hey, I had to hear it endlessly when it was recorded, folks) especially in context of possible consummation of man (or monster) and wife.
Other than Henry (who should only be allowed to do comedy from now on) I only recognized Nathan Fillion from "Firefly"/"Serenity" (essentially playing Mal again) and Michael Rooker (who for me will always be Henry the Serial Killer) who with his bald head and wire-rimmed glasses somewhat resembles a young Dick Cheney, maybe intentionally so? Depending what one wants to read into it, "Slither" could be taken as a sly whack at the Bush gang with the blood-dripping creature intoning bromides about morality and each new disciple becoming just a channel for the creature. "I'll just keep getting bigger," the thing threatens at one point---rather like our burgeoning police state at home and imperialism abroad? Earlier I mentioned my second-favorite scene; the favorite is again with Gregg Henry who (when the lesbian cop exclaims "Praise Jesus" at some slight pause in the catastrophe) demands to know what connection with God she sees in any of this. Well, I've heard the Lord works in mysterious ways ..
Rob Zombie's voice is heard briefly on the phone as a doctor; he sounds, well, like a doctor, albeit with a somewhat sinister urge, let's say. One looks forward to hearing (and seeing) more of him in future screen projects. But here's what I'd like to see less of: dead dogs and cats (even after the closing credits there's a final shot). I know it's not real but it seems a cheap writing ploy; while from "Taxi Driver" onwards I've never expected cinema to be held responsible for the actions of those who watch it, still, to borrow a phrase from a recent Ebert piece, "there is a line." It's been reported that many serial killers started out as kids abusing animals. Isn't that a flame we want to snuff out early on rather than fan it even somewhat by serving it up in glorious 35 mm? But for us adults who know better (in the ostensible R-rated adult audience) "Slither" should induce a fond grin, make us want to dig out our old "Mad" magazines or even "EC Comics" if one goes back that far . By the way: if you're a pregnant woman: did anyone warn you not to see the remake of "The Fly"? Well, don't see this either .