Seth,  the plastic reptile with an IQ, is a true ‘90s creature—half rattlesnake, half cobra, a 30 foot conflicted camera shy version of Anaconda who eats rednecks (yuk!).  His mutated genes drive him to unspeakable acts(dropping from trees and breaking car windows) that terrorize the small town’s easily terrorizable  population.  Stupidly they stage a beerfest while Seth is on the prowl giving him ample access to the assembly of human mutants.

 Seth, the devils’ own child, spits venom like a politician on a witch hunt.  Wouldn’t you if you’d been mutated from placid Eastern rattler and laid back Indian King cobra?  There you were poisoning and crushing your way through life when you are snatched up, crossmatched and designed for B movies.  Enough to drive a snake mad.    

Now that we understand the psychodynamics of this film—why is there no blood, no gore, no suspense, no Jon Voight?  Even I, who am pantophobic (afraid of everyting) due to my earliest film being the first screening of King Kong, sat above my chair for all of this so called monster’s snaky ventures.  And Pat Morita, beloved of all, Happy Days to you, Pat!   

     N.D.