Look: no-one ever thought Snakes on a Plane was going to be any good. I didn't think so. That's not why I watched it. I watched it because it had Sam Jackson on a plane full of snakes. I expected prominent cursing, scenery-chewing, and completely outlandish reptilian doom.
But instead, I got a movie that's mostly about people building luggage forts and sucking venom out of each other, while Sam Jackson was criminally underused. His most aggressive anti-snake action was a tazer. The man who educated us on the path of the righteous man restricted to non-lethal weaponry? What a copout.
Perhaps worst of all, he wasn't given any real room to build up a real Sam Jackson head of steam, so his triumphant line (in which he expresses his weariness with snakes, planes, and the combination of the two) goes completely to waste. From this point on, all directors casting Mr. Jackson are required to watch Deep Blue Sea:
That's how you do it. Sadly, I can't find a copy of the complete clip (in which Jackson explains that he killed the other survivors of a horrible mountaineering accident), which is a moment of brilliance in an otherwise unexceptional horror-comedy. More like that please. Less like Snakes on a Plane.