Not for a millisecond are we fooled into assuming this cartoony beastie bears even a fifth-generation kinship with that sluggish coil we've seen lounging at the zoo with profoundly bored indifference. We desired so, sort of. They include Stoltz as the expedition's very pale anthropologist leader, Lopez as the film's very spitfirey director and Cube as the cameraman with the built-in Ice Cube frown.
Dinner is served.
Sarone, says he, is an ex-priest from Paraguay who changed career directions and became a snake hunter. So there you have the premise, the heroes, the villains, the nemesis. As the journey progresses and things go progressively wrong, including Stoltz swallowing and getting stung in the mouth by a deadly wasp the size of a Yugo, Sarone begins to show his true colors, which are the colors of a hot-house reptile. Voight, hair slicked back to keep his head smooth and lizardy, has done something curious with his face and mouth. After awhile, though, that sensation wears off, and we realize that what we're watching is actually a shrewd act of thespian metamorphosis, in which body language, eye movement and overall personal karma are being manipulated to merely suggest something rather than blatantly emulate it.