When an airline’s gate agent refuses to allow Nashawn Wade to bring his rather large dog aboard a flight, the mongrel is crated and stowed in the baggage compartment. Later, after consuming a toxic in-flight meal, Nashawn winds up with severe diarrhea. For some unexplained reason, his derriere gets sucked into the commode after flushing (yes, it’s shown). To reverse the effect, a stewardess presses an emergency button which causes passenger baggage—including Nashawn’s canine—to be ejected from the aircraft. Nashawn sues and, voila, winds up with a $100 million settlement.
Flush with capital, Nashawn launches NWA, an airline primarily for African-Americans. (It’s moniker is a not-so subtle reference to the rap group “N-ggers With Attitude.”) But it’s quickly apparent that this gangsta-leaning startup’s inaugural flight is in big trouble when the pot-smoking captain admits his airline experience was gained using flight simulators while in prison. Complicating matters, Captain Mack winds up unconscious after ingesting his co-pilot’s mushrooms (supposedly on hand to counteract an STD-caused itch).
Meanwhile, outside the cockpit, there’s a couple anxious to copulate anywhere they can find a nook or cranny to do it in. And Mr. Hunkee, the father of the sole white “family” onboard, is forced to deal with his daughter’s rebellious threats to engage in a dozen or so kinky sexual acts. Plus, his girlfriend becomes infatuated with a fellow passenger when she catches a glimpse of him in a pornographic magazine.
About the most I can say here is that Nashawn says he holds his mother and her advice in high esteem (“My mom always told me you can’t be successful until you try”). Later we learn that he was willing to breakup with his girlfriend to give her the freedom to attend college.
In the midst of yelling a number of strong obscenities, Nashawn screams, “I’m a Christian” as an apparent cosmic appeal for help while being held captive by the commode. While reading a male porn mag, Mr. Hunkee’s girlfriend lustfully exclaims, “Oh, my sweet black Jesus!”
Suffice it to say there’s a jumbo-jet full of sexual content here. And it’s not just implied, it’s explicitly portrayed with copulative motion, sound effects and facial responses. The only thing keeping Soul Plane out of NC-17 territory is camera angle (mostly upper body shots). Three scenes involve a couple (supposedly for laughs) seeking (relative) privacy for their escapades. They wind up in a lavatory, the plane’s landing gear compartment and the cockpit where they ask the pilot for permission to have intercourse in his presence (the pilot appears to nod his head, but he’s unconscious). One dalliance involves “eroticism” via male asphyxiation using a necktie. (It’s an unsatisfying experience that leads to the man touching himself.)
The “caring” father figure explains to his daughter the reason his marriage failed was due to his wife’s lesbian relationship. He adds that he would still love to be involved as a threesome. A lipstick-wearing homosexual steward grinds briefly on the airline’s owner and jokes about how he likes to “look at a man out of uniform.” A teenager rattles off about a dozen sexual activities/positions she plans to engage in now that she’s 18. Furthermore, the movie winks and smirks at pornography, genital size, an underwear fetish, oral sex and various forms of foreplay. Stewardesses wear revealing tops zipped low. One remarks, “You haven’t had an orgasm until you’ve had it on descent,” then acts out how she would often have sex in the cockpit with a boyfriend pilot. A young boy remarks how “more a–“ makes for better music videos.
An airline employee plays a kickboxing video game behind the counter. The female combatant is topless (shown from the side). A restroom attendant remarks, “I could whip your a–“ when angered by a passenger. A woman whacks a man with a magazine. A dog is sucked out of a plane’s cargo hold and into its jet engine.
Over 100 f- and s-words used in all their variations, plus numerous milder profanities and vulgar sexual references to male and female genitalia. Women are repeatedly referred to as “b–ches” and “hos.” Racial epithets fly. God’s name is profaned.
The NWA pilot rolls and smokes a joint and later shares a blunt with his cockpit crew. His fondness for hallucinogenic mushrooms renders him unconscious when he swallows a more lethal fungi by mistake. The upper deck of this 747 is a gigantic nightclub where numerous passengers—including Heather, who just turned 18—down mixed drinks. Nashawn’s cousin wears a marijuana leaf pendant.
It’s intimated that Heather’s “pet names” for her father are “s—head” and “a–hole.” Offensive gangsta rap permeates the flick and closing credits. One track by Snoop Dogg dwells on the “joys” of sex in bathroom lavatories.
Ads and trailers for Soul Plane don’t even begin to reveal how far down into a moral pit this film descends. This is not just a black version of Airplane. This is Hollywood once again thinking it’s somehow funny to shove illegal drugs, perverse sex, rebellion, racial stereotyping, foul speech and alcohol abuse down the throats of its young fan base. Soul Plane is How High and Next Friday aboard a 747. And the only thing that should be taking to the air here are people from their theater seats if for some misguided reason they wind up as viewers.
