"SoaP" fans, your flight has arrived

Sssssso, what's left to know about "Snakes on a Plane?" Sure, it has Samuel L. Jackson as an expletive-loving reptile wrangler, a legion of Internet fans and enough promotional merchandise to choke a python. But when you examine its pre-release success and word-of-mouth buzz, the key is clear: Simplicity.

There are snakes. On a plane. And really, what more do you need to know?

One person who appreciated the power of this simplicity was screenwriter and blogger Josh Friedman, who documented his dismay when marketeering "suits" monkeyed with the name of the film. But last August, the powers that be had second thoughts (no small thanks to the very public protests of star Jackson) and reinstated the original, tell-it-like-it-is title. In his blog, the ecstatic Friedman penned a paean that inadvertently started the "SoaP" Internet frenzy. (See sidebar for a link to that entry, plus "SoaP" products and more online fun with snakes.)

All this buzz drove producers to shoot extra scenes (Mile High Club, anyone?) and add dialogue (Jackson's signature line comes straight from Friedman's blog) to bump the film's rating from PG-13 to R.

Although such pre-release audience influence on a film is rare, audience participation as a promotional gimmick has a long history. In the 1950s and '60s, horror director William Castle became famous for such stunts, including buzzers hidden under random theater seats (projectionists "zapped" filmgoers at key points in the plot), "fright breaks" that allowed viewers to leave the theater if they were too scared to sit through the ending and skeletons that flew over the heads of startled moviegoers. In 1961's "Mr. Sardonicus," Castle even had audiences wave glow-in-the-dark cardboard thumbs in the air to dictate the fate of the film's evil protagonist (thumbs up, he lives; thumbs down, he dies).

Another promotional tool in today's Hollywood is the theme song. And what is a theme song without a video? "Snakes on a Plane (Bring It)" by Cobra Starship (yes, Cobra Starship) is a catchy power-pop tune, and its video harkens back to the storytelling glory days of 1980s MTV: Three guys (one lead singer hottie for the adult gals, a second — sweeter and less overtly sexual — to satisfy the preteen set, and a comedic rapper friend) stride through an airport with their blond babe accomplice whose job is to distract the leering TSA screener so the group's python-packed luggage passes the security check. The song ends with the rapper's flight-attendant-style admonition: "I suggest you grab your ankles and kiss your asp goodbye."

At least I think he's saying "asp."

And now it's opening day. Producers have allowed no previews, so many are wondering: Will the film live up to the hype? Will it be kitschy? Creepy? A full-blown cheez-fest?

No matter. With 11.4 million Google references (which seem to be growing at the rate of 1 million a day) and its history as an Internet phenomenon, "Snakes on a Plane" will likely linger in the pop-culture consciousness for years to come. After all, at its heart, it's really a William Castle film. Just throw a few mechanized rubber reptiles under the theater seats, hand out some sugar-frosted gummi snakes and toss a python into the popcorn bin.

Freelancer Megan Sheppard is a regular contributor to The Seattle Times: megans@hootspa.com