Skip to main content

Why “Anaconda” Is One of the Greatest Movies Ever Made

There are many a-great films out there, most of which have already been found and given their due respect since time immemorial. But some other great films are sadly forgotten by history, they aren't so commonly featured in fancy articles and intellectual discussions, they are just lost somewhere along the bends of an ever-changing river... So it's a very good thing indeed that this wasn't the case with the film I wanna talk about today. Because anyone with a shred of common sense in his reptilian brain will know that Anaconda from 1997 is objectively one of the greatest films in the history of cinema, in fact I'd go so far as to say it could easily have been directed by Snakely Kubrick, and it's not even a question of mere opinion. Well, it is but you'll have the wrong one if you disagree with me on this. In any case, I will try my best to explain and praise this colossal film, though due to its highly complex nature, I'll inevitably come up short. And its great nature slithers through my understanding in two distinct ways – one, because as a kid I loved questionable movies about giant beasts, snakes most of all, and two, because in recent years, after being mesmerized by nostalgia into rewatching this masterpiece over and over, I came to realize just how perfect it is. So having recently rewatched it for the, I dunno, tenth time maybe, but for the first time since I've had this blog, I will now attempt to finally put my thoughts about this film to rest, in the hopes that nothing I have to say will be particularly new to anyone who has eyes to see.



The film's opening title crawl is very interesting... The first paragraph alludes to legend and folklore, referencing giant anacondas that are worshiped by amazonian tribes as gods or protector deities, spirits of the river if you will, which is an incredibly cool idea in a hundred different ways, and one that, though the film directly references, it could have been a bit more fleshed out. Because if you were going to pick an animal to be a physical manifestation of the river you'd certainly pick a giant green anaconda... But then again, the fact that this concept isn't as fleshed out as I would have liked only serves to deepen the mystery, shrouding it in a very bizarre sense of mysticism. As to the second paragraph however, it aims to capture a sense of realism regarding real-life snakes, but at least as far as I can tell, the size is exaggerated and the regurgitation detail is untrue. If stressed or threatened, snakes might indeed regurgitate their meal but only so that they can escape a dire situation, after which they will obviously need to feed again. But it doesn't make sense that any animal would regurgitate only to go through the joy of killing again, though if an animal did so it would have to be a pretty gnarly beast, one with an almost human inclination for inflicting pain and death, which the snake in this film, or snakes because their number is never truly clear, really does. Thus, from the very start we are struck by a rather surreal blend of realism and mysticism, the synthesis of which might never be fully realized in a way our limited understanding can comprehend.





Our heroes, whom I will from henceforth refer to as argonauts, aren't there for snakes though, they are there to find and hopefully study a mysterious tribe called the Shirishama, also known as the people of the mist, who reside somewhere in the illusive and almost supernatural rivers of the Amazon. And that's when the film's star shines brightest because the cinematographer didn't hiss at the chance of shooting on location, and thus we are constantly admiring some very impressive aerial shots of the river, faintly lit by innocent purple dawns and smothering orange dusks, with its deep dark waters bending and curving in swirls not entirely unlike those of a snake's body, almost as if the river itself is the true warrior snake, beautifully yet strangely adorned with the bizarre vegetation of old trees and crooked branches, much like what you'd expect to see from the rituals of an ancient religion lost in time... In essence, the film's cinematography is expertly crafted, even to the point where this film isn't even on the same league as its sub-genre companions, all of which really sets the tone for a never before seen creature that has made its home somewhere people simply don't go, and not even our argonauts would not have dared set sail there, except due to the strange machinations of the film's true villain – Paul Serone.

The face that launched one ship



On that note it could be said the film follows a really neat archetypal trope in the sense that our group of argonauts quickly find themselves having swallowed more than they can digest, suddenly realizing they are in a dangerous place to begin with, though made much more dangerous by the constant manipulation and misdirection of this seemingly kind, though very odd, wandering stranger. Because let's face it, it's Jon Voight who makes this film. In many ways he's the true snake, and if the snake can be said to be a demonic metaphor, then it's Serone who's the Devil. In fact, as Denise, the pretty production manager in mourning, says – It was you who brought that snake... You brought the Devil! So in that sense we have the opening crawl's first paragraph playing out, we begin to observe these upbeat characters becoming submerged in a hidden reality they never dreamed would be remotely true. There can't be snakes out there that big, and the big ones that do exist don't hunt humans, and they surely don't hunt them out of malice in their cold, dead hearts. But maybe these anacondas are different, maybe these ones aren't even animals in the strictest sense of the word, they are indeed warrior snakes, gods to whom the tribes pay the utmost respect, either out of a true and somewhat sadistic sense of suffering, or out of a distinctly fearful respect. If this sounds like my own headcanon it's because it sort of is, but it's not without foundation because the film does hint at such ideas, elevating this sub-genre into something far more interesting than the typical science fiction plots we commonly find.

And in simpler terms, the story is rather refreshing to see as well. First of all, we expect professor Cale to be the hero, what with his cool confidence and incredible smarts, immediately and consistently proving his bravery to the crew and rekindling his passion with Jennifer Lopez's character Terri. But as it turns out, Serone realizes early on that he won't be able to match Cale's leadership skills and wits, so he has to take him out of the equation, which he does in spectacular fashion by placing a venomous wasp inside the scuba gear, which then found its way into Cale's throat. After an emergency tracheotomy, the good doctor is essentially out of the film and it's up to Terri to take leadership alongside Ice Cube's Danny, her right-hand man, in yet another refreshing twist of not having the friendly male and female leads blossoming into a completely needless romance. There's still a romance though, but it's reserved for Owen Wilson's Gary and Kari Wuhrer, the previously mentioned production manager Denise. But their romance is sadly ended by Serone's manipulation of Gary, who is tempted into unleashing his own devilish greed. And then last but not least, when it comes to Jonathan Hyde's Westridge it's rather amazing to see him gradually put aside his fancy and pretentious self, at least for the time being, so as to give way to a much more confident and courageous man of action. Because initially the man inspires a strong dislike, being rude to baggage handlers, to Denise by assuming she's the bellhop, to Terri by insulting her previous documentary work, and even to Ice Cube's music if you can believe that. However, having been slowly humbled, both by Serone and by the anaconda itself, who impossibly spits a dead monkey at his face as the poor man kneels to pick up his fallen medication, Westridge then rises as a strong man of action, even going so far as to sacrifice himself in what was the film's most spectacular death, in an impossible, and thus mystic, waterfall.

Serone witnessing the impossible waterfall

This shot is in reverse for some reason, but it looks bizarrely cool

This shot always terrifies me

And so that waterfall is perhaps the most symbolically significant, although still profoundly surreal, moment in the film. Because indeed the film does something amazing in that it chooses a place in the real world but opens up the floodgates to give way to the possibility that all the myths and legends just might be true, it could well be that around the river bend, just past that ominous snake totem, is a never before seen section of the Amazon, a hideout where giant warrior anacondas rule the realm and, though the natural ones are fascinating predators in their own right, these ones hunt with an unceasing appetite and an almost perfect awareness of where their prey lies at all times. Again, as my own headcanon I like to imagine Serone's attempts at entering these forbidden anaconda-infested rivers all failed due to his evil intentions of capturing a living river god, subduing it and selling it. Perhaps it's why he abandoned Danny Trejo's character, who dies miserably in the opening scene of the film when an unseen anaconda hunts him down in an act that seems more like divine retribution than hunger. And indeed, as the man clutches to a cross and recites the Lord's prayer in brazilian portuguese, the anaconda swirls around him, initially catching the corner of his eye, effectively becoming the all-seeing camera itself.




But perhaps it's Serone's treachery that is really snakelike... We soon discover that this was his plan all along, to have Mateo become the guide of this naive documentary crew so as to coincidentally rescue him along the way, who would then slowly but surely usurp control of the ship, thereby being granted access to the secret section of the river temple, making the ship his very own trojan horse. This interpretation could also go to great lengths to explain why the anaconda waited around Serone's old safehouse, almost as if suspiciously waiting for someone else to come along, and when three men did, it's almost as if it waited to attack Mateo specifically, and moreover, when Danny went to look for him, he suspiciously tripped on something that refused to attack him... It's almost like the snake gods are exacting revenge by hunting down the three men holding one of their babies in the picture, and they will stop at nothing until they are all dead. Unfortunately for our crew, due to their ignorance, they associated themselves with these evil men and thus had to be tested, a baptism by snake if you will. That is why Gary, having fallen to Serone's charms, was the first member of the documentary crew to die, perhaps deservedly so, though he redeemed himself by saving Denise.

“Wow, that's a big snake!” – BoneSaw557's friend

And when the film comes to its final showdown it does so to great effect. After initially defeating Serone, though not killing him, he comes back in an ambush, snaky as always, and prepares Terri and Danny as his human sacrifices. He does so in yet another seemingly impossible location, almost a factory of sorts, which in a way could be yet another one of his safehouses, but that deep into the river and Shirishama territory it seems difficult to believe. Instead I like to see this place as the metaphorical synthesis between the physical reality of the Amazon and its massive green anacondas, with the alternative mystical reality of hidden tribes and river deities. Because this place, the waterfall, the river itself ever since they went past the snake totem, none of those things exist, they are dreamlike places for our argonauts to face their final challenge. And though at least one snake was previously killed, this time we either find a stronger, more ferocious beast, or perhaps it's the previous one simply resurrected with the same ease with which it shed its green skin in favor of a menacing black and red pattern.



If you are hunted down by a giant anaconda, be advised to check yourself before you wreck yourself

Terri and Danny manage to escape by working as a team, much like Serone previously mentioned it was required to do in order to capture an anaconda. In doing so they manage to trap Serone, letting the anaconda do the rest... So it would seem Serone's greed finally catches up to him as the black anaconda swiftly hunts him and coils itself around him, breaking his bones and bursting his vessels, and then eats him, swallowing him whole in a matter of seconds, very much unlike real anacondas do, and then even weirder, the anaconda still wants more and begins to hunt down Terri and Danny. As unrealistic as all of this is we're now way past realism, we ain't in the Amazon no more... The truth is all our argonauts have defiled holy ground, they have disrespected the river and so they are now tested by its protector one last time. And as Terri is chased, in what is perhaps one of the greatest scenes in the history of cinema, the anaconda regurgitates Serone's slimy body, who falls to his knees and gives one last cheesy wink at Terri. And I think that's a very deep moment in the film... Then it all builds to its epic climax when the anaconda is lit on fire and cooked alive in an explosion, after which, still on fire, it uses the last of its vital force to chase Terri, though in the end, in those very same green waters where it made its home, it also makes its grave. Luckily for Terri, who desperately swims away with no other recourse left, the anaconda seems to finally perish and is ultimately defeated after a totally unexpected jump scare when it is finished off by Danny.


Can a movie be any good if it doesn't end with a giant flaming anaconda?

And then, after an epic journey not entirely unlike that of any other great odyssey in literature, our argonauts are blissfully visited by the illusive Shirishama tribe, seemingly being granted the honor of their presence after defeating the true villain, but not the anaconda... They were honored for defeating the evil poacher Serone, the anaconda's death was only a necessary punishment for their actions, even if done out of ignorance, and a test of their bravery, much like Odysseus' scylla. So yes, this film is indeed a great epic masterpiece. It tells an archetypal story rich with meaning, a tale of mankind's unfailing courage and the unquenchable thirst in our unceasing pursuit of knowledge, but also of our dark side such as our selfishness and unfailing greed. Couple that with the beautiful cinematography, the surprisingly deep character development for such a brief runtime, the instrumental soundtrack full of tribal themes but also with sharp sudden sounds, and the decidedly creepy presence of the anaconda's beautiful animatronic puppet, combine all that and you'll have a flawless masterpiece, a film you can watch time and time again, as I often do and still find something new each time, especially in Jon Voight's hilariously enthralling presence. So it is my honor to proclaim Jon Voight's Anaconda to be the biggest and greatest... film of all time.

Oh, and by the way, this is not an April Fools joke.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Minha Interpretação Pessoal de “Às Vezes, em Sonho Triste” de Fernando Pessoa

Já há muito tempo que não lia nada que o Fernando Pessoa escreveu, e talvez por esse motivo, mas principalmente porque buscava ideias sobre as quais escrever aqui, decidi folhear um livro de poemas dele. E enquanto o fiz, tomei especial nota das marcas que apontei na margem de algumas páginas, significando alguns poemas que gostei quando os li pela primeira vez, há cerca de sete anos atrás. Poderia ter escolhido um poema mais nostálgico ou até mais famoso, mas ao folhear por todo o livro foi este o poema que me fez mais sentido escolher. Agora leio e releio estes versos e comprometo-me a tecer algo que não me atreverei a chamar de análise, porque não sou poeta nem crítico de poesia. Mas como qualquer outro estudante português, fui leitor de Fernando Pessoa e, ainda que talvez mais a uns Fernandos Pessoas do que a outros, devo a este homem um bom pedaço dos frutos da minha escrita, que até à data são poucos ou nenhuns. Mas enfim, estou a divagar... O que queria dizer a jeito de introduç...

Meditations on The Caretaker's “Everywhere at the End of Time”

I have always been sentimental about memory. Nostalgia was surely one of the first big boy words I learned. And all throughout my life I sort of developed a strong attachment memory, and subsequently to things, which became an obsession almost. I never wanted to see them go, even if they had lost any and all useful purpose, because they still retained a strong emotional attachment to me. I had a memory forever entwined with those old things, so I never wanted to see them go. However, in my late teens I realized I was being stupid, I realized there was no memory within the object itself, it was only in me. So I started to throw a bunch of stuff out, I went from a borderline hoarder to a borderline minimalist, and it was pretty good. I came to the realization that all things were inherently temporary. No matter how long I held on to them, eventually I would lose them one way or another, and if someone or some thing were to forcefully take them from me, I would be heartbroken beyond repai...

10 Atheist Arguments I No Longer Defend

I don't believe in God, I don't follow any religion. And yet, there was a time in my life when I could have said to be more of an atheist than I am now. In some ways I contributed to the new atheism movement, and in fact, for a little while there, Christopher Hitchens was my lord and savior. I greatly admired his extensive literary knowledge, his eloquence, his wit and his bravery. But now I've come to realize his eloquence was his double-edged sword, and because he criticized religion mostly from an ethics standpoint, greatly enhanced by his journalism background, some of the more philosophical questions and their implications were somewhat forgotten, or even dealt with in a little bit of sophistry. And now it's sad that he died... I for one would have loved to know what he would have said in these times when atheism seems to have gained territory, and yet people are deeply craving meaning and direction in their lives. In a nutshell, I think Hitchens versus Peterson wo...

Mármore

Dá-me a mão e vem comigo. Temos tantos lugares para ver. Era assim que escrevia o Bernardo numa página à parte, em pleno contraste com tantas outras páginas soltas e enamoradas de ilustrações coloridas, nas quais eram inteligíveis as suas várias tentativas de idealizar uma rapariga de cabelo castanho-claro, ou talvez vermelho, e com uns olhos grandes que pareciam evocar uma aura de mistério e de aventura, e com os braços estendidos na sua frente, terminando em mãos delicadas que se enlaçavam uma à outra, como se as suas palmas fossem uma concha do mar que guarda uma pérola imperfeita, como se cuidasse de um pássaro caído que tem pena de libertar, como se desafiasse um gesto tímido... Mas tal criação ficava sempre aquém daquilo que o Bernardo visualizava na sua mente. Na verdade não passava sequer de um protótipo mas havia algo ali, uma intenção, uma faísca com tanto potencial para deflagrar no escuro da página branca... se porventura ele fosse melhor artista. E embora a obra carecesse ...

A Synopsis Breakdown of “The Wandering King”

A collection of eight different short stories set in a world where the malignant and omniscient presence of the Wandering King is felt throughout, leading its inhabitants down a spiral of violence, paranoia and madness. That is my book's brief synopsis. And that is just how I like to keep it – brief and vague. I for one find that plot-oriented synopses often ruin the whole reading, or viewing, experience. For example, if you were to describe The Godfather as the story of an aging mafia don who, upon suffering a violent attempt on his life, is forced to transfer control of his crime family to his mild-mannered son, you have already spoiled half the movie. You have given away that Sollozzo is far more dangerous than he appears to be, you have given away that the Don survives the attempt, and you have given away that Michael is the one who will succeed him... Now, it could well be that some stories cannot be, or should not be, captured within a vague description. It could also be t...

Martha, You've Been on My Mind

Perhaps it is the color of this gray rainy sky at the end of spring, this cold but soothing day I hoped would be warm, bright and the end of something I gotta carry on. Or maybe it's that I'm thinking of old days to while away the time until new days come along. Perhaps it's all that or it's nothing at all, but Martha, you've been on my mind. I wouldn't dare to try and find you or even write to you, so instead I write about you, about who I think you are, because in truth I don't really know you. To me you're just a memory, a good memory though, and more importantly, you're the very first crossroads in my life. I had no free will before I saw you and chose what I chose... Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, you would have led me down one, and yet I chose the other. But I never stopped looking down your chosen path for as long as I could, and for a fleeting moment I could have sworn I saw you standing there, and then you just faded, almost as if you ...

In Defense of Ang Lee's “Hulk”

This movie isn't particularly well-liked, that much is no secret. People seem to dislike how odd and bizarrely subdued it is, especially considering the explosive nature of its titular superhero. In a nutshell, people find this movie boring. The criticism I most often hear is that it is essentially a very pretentious take on the Incredible Hulk, an ego-driven attempt to come up with some deep psychological meaning behind a green giant who smashes things. And it's tempting to agree, in a sense it's tempting to brush it off as pretentious and conclude that a film about the Hulk that fails to deliver two action-packed hours is an automatic failure. But of course, I disagree. Even when I was a kid and went into the cinema with my limited knowledge, but great appreciation, of the comics, I never saw the Hulk as a jolly green giant. At one point, the character was seen as a mere physical manifestation of Bruce Banner's repressed anger awakened by gamma radiation, but eventual...

A Minha Interpretação Pessoal de “Sou um Guardador de Rebanhos” de Alberto Caeiro

Em continuação com o meu artigo anterior, comprometo-me agora a uma interpretação de um outro poema do mesmo poeta... mais ou menos. Porque os vários heterónimos pessoanos são todos iguais e diferentes, e diferentes e iguais. Qualquer leitor encontra temas recorrentes nos vários poemas porque de certa forma todos estes poetas se propuseram a resolver as mesmas questões que tanto atormentavam o poeta original. Mas a solução encontrada por Alberto Caeiro é algo diferente na medida em que é quase invejável ao próprio Fernando Pessoa, ainda que talvez não seja invejável aos outros heterónimos. Por outro lado, talvez eu esteja a projetar porque em tempos esta poesia foi deveras invejável para mim. Ao contrário do poema anterior, do qual nem sequer tinha memória de ter lido e apenas sei que o li porque anotei marcas e sublinhados na margem da página, este poema é um que li, que gostei e que apresentei numa aula qualquer num dia que me vem agora à memória como idílico. Mas em típico estilo d...

The Gospel According to Dragline

Yeah, well... sometimes the Gospel can be a real cool book. I'm of course referencing the 1967 classic Cool Hand Luke, one of my favorite films of all time. And, as it is often the case with me, this is a film I didn't really care for upon first viewing. Now I obviously think differently. In many ways, this is a movie made beautiful by it's simplicity. It is made visually striking by its backdrop of natural southern beauty in the US – the everlasting summer, the seemingly abandoned train tracks and the long dirt roads, almost fully deserted were it not for the prisoners working by the fields... It almost gives off the impression that there is no world beyond that road. And maybe as part of that isolation, the story doesn't shy away from grit. It is dirty, grimy and hence, it is real. Some modern movies seem to have an obsession with polishing every pixel of every frame, thus giving off a distinct sense of falsehood. The movie then becomes too colorful, too vibrant, it...

Meditações sobre “Em Busca do Tempo Perdido I – Do Lado de Swann”

Estou a ler Marcel Proust pela segunda vez... Há quem diga que é comum da parte dos seus leitores iniciarem uma segunda leitura logo após a tortura que é a primeira. Quanto a mim posso dizer que seja esse o caso. Quando li este primeiro volume pela primeira vez decidi que não tinha interesse em ler os outros seis, mas depois mudei de ideias e li-os. Mas li quase como que só para poder dizer ter lido. Então o objetivo seria não mais pensar no livro mas isso afigurou-se estranhamente impossível. Surgia uma crescente curiosidade em ler sínteses ou resumos e ficava-me sempre aquela surpresa depois de ler sobre um acontecimento do qual já não tinha memória. Por isso é que me proponho agora a uma segunda e muito, muito mais demorada leitura, para que possa compreender o livro pelo menos o suficiente para dizer qualquer coisa interessante sobre ele. Em relação ao título deste artigo, do qual planeio fazer uma série, decidi usar o termo que usei porque nenhum outro me pareceu mais correto. Nã...