I mean the never-before-photographed Shirishama Indians. In the story, by Hans Bauer, Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr., anthropologist Steven Cale (Eric Stoltz) leads a documentary film unit into the Amazon to record the elusive "people of the mist." I’m not referring to residents of London. Holy human hairball, Batman, what’s the scientific term for such a creature, serpentus bulimicus? And while we’re at it, what’s the Latin for "slither away from this movie while you can"? Then, as the opening titles inform us, it likes to regurgitate its prey - just so it can eat the victim twice. Make that a 40-foot animatronic snake, a special-effects sucker that can leap through the air and drape you in coils faster than you can say "Michelin Man." It sucks you down like human sushi. The actual gorging is done by the monster of the moment, whether it’s a shark, an alien, Freddy Krueger or - in the case of "Anaconda" - a snake. The lucky ones are usually the innocents, the irreducibly pure, and in some cases, those actors who also executive-produced the movie.īut this is one meal we watch rather than eat. It’s usually thumbs-down for the obnoxious, the promiscuous and the black. We don bibs as we assess each character’s dim chances of survival. We savor the coming repast, as the movie (with the indulgence, but rarely the eloquence, of a head waiter) introduces us to the cast - the collective catch of the day. When we watch a horror movie, we are - in a sense - sitting for dinner. Children under 13 should be accompanied by a parent
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