Spoilers ahead.
I came. I watched. I yawned. I blogged.
It had a few good parts. Like when the retiring flight attendant rescued the baby. Or when Juliana Margulies handed Jackson the improvised flame thrower and explained she went through “a pyro stage” as a kid. The best part by far - and I will agree with the movie reviewers - is when the snarky British guy becomes the anaconda’s lunch.
The ending was lame, lame, lame on most counts. The overweight rapper’s “bodyguard” volunteers to land the plane and claims to have 2,000 hours of flight time. They don’t find out until after they’re in the cockpit that his “2,000 hours” were on a PS2 flight simulator. He proceeds to land a 747 overspeed with a tail wind, runs out of runway, and cranks a 747 rolling at about 180 knots into a 90 degree turn. (All the while pumping the pedal on the floor as if it’s the “brakes”). I can’t even do that on a flight simulator.
YEAH RIGHT.
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