Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid

Is it possible for a movie to compare unfavorably to 1997’s rain forest stink bomb Anaconda? This unasked-for sequel plays it straight, whereas its predecessor left no scenery unchewed: Jon Voight’s histrionic hunter, J. Lo’s seductive wet shorts, a scowling Ice Cube, a shrieking Owen Wilson, and spectacularly risible creature effects made for an unintentional howler of epic proportions. Alas, no such guilty pleasures are found on this Hunt, which follows a team of research scientists into Borneo’s rainy season in search of an orchid rumored to extend cellular life – and potentially promise immortality (as well as a big stock-option windfall). Yadda, yadda. Get the people on the boat, imperil the requisite cute little Capuchin monkey named Kong (he’s far more sympathetic and expressive than his human counterparts), and send them all to their doom. There are four screenwriters on board this vessel, so expect all kinds of bedlam (poisonous spiders! headhunters!). The actors – who are all uncommonly attractive for medical researchers – paddle furiously against the movie’s riptide, but it sucks them in anyway. Gravelly-voiced Johnny Messner is appealing enough as the ship’s gone-native captain, even though he seems to be wearing some kind of fine-gauge ribknit J. Crew sweater, and San Antonio native Nicholas Gonzalez checks out early as the film’s first to die. (After Wilson’s early demise in the previous film, one wonders if anacondas prefer Texan meat?) There’s all sorts of ostensible sexual tension bouncing around on the ship, but it’s all a big yawn. The film’s only chemistry is in the snakes’ mating ball. Meanwhile, television veteran Byrd does some kind of hysterical schtick that drew unintended titters from my audience. The real problem isn’t that Anacondas is bad – it’s just so bland, so unremarkable, so by-the-numbers, and so instantly forgettable that bad might be a step up. For all its scenic copter shots and jungle peril, this exotic meal tastes just like chicken.