Well, Anaconda must not have buns, because I don’t want none of what Sony’s funny-first reboot is laying down (the youths know who Sir Mix-a-Lot is, right?). Director Tom Gormican follows his Nicolas Cage in-joke-of-a-movie, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, with another meta-filmmaking comedy—but this one’s a ssstinker. It’s concept over execution: a tantalizing idea that never seems to evolve past the thought bubble phase. 1997’s Anaconda is beloved for its B-movie antics, practical reptilian effects, and a menacing lean into creature-feature violence. Gormican’s spoofier update purposely ditches all that in favor of mainstream yucks, getting stuck in that horror-comedy purgatory where neither subgenre flourishes.
In the film, four Buffalo, New York, jamooks stuck living their best “B+” lives decide on a whim to independently reboot Anaconda. Lifetime background actor Griff (Paul Rudd) claims he’s miraculously secured the legal rights, teeing up a golden opportunity. His best friend Doug (Jack Black) is a creatively unfulfilled wedding videographer wasting his talents. Their buddy Kenny (Steve Zahn) could use a distraction to help stay sober. Then there’s Griff’s hometown fling, Claire (Thandiwe Newton), who’s newly divorced and ready for a shakeup. All four embark on the mid-life-crisis of a lifetime, heading into Brazil’s Amazonian jungle for a three-week shoot—but they soon find themselves in Anaconda, for real.
Anaconda Remake Images
Unfortunately, Gormican and co-writer Kevin Etten struggle to weave riverboat survival thrills into a Hollywood satire that roasts an industry obsessed with resurrecting intellectual properties. At the film’s core is a wholesome message about creating art with the people you love, but subplots about illegal activities and trigger-happy thugs feel shoehorned in as runtime padding. Daniela Melchior flounders as the boat’s sketchy captain, Ana Almeida, given how the film would run smoothly without her added baggage. Griff, Doug, Kenny, and Claire wrestle with enough existential depression about unhappiness and self-loathing to keep the central conflicts afloat, while Ana’s eventual “moment” sinks and is immediately forgotten.
Laughs are hard to come by as ridiculous gags frequently impair snake-based tension, but the punchlines aren’t all duds. Rudd is unsurprisingly charming as a D-lister who has to pull up his big-boy hero pants, while Black… well, I’m a mark for Jack Black doing Jack Black things, and here he’s putting all that chaotic energy into a passion for indie filmmaking (although he’s handcuffed by his character’s straight man trappings). As these knuckleheads treat basic screenwriting tools as epiphanies, patting themselves on the back for adding identifiable themes, shades of King Kong (panicked film crew against monsters) or Ed Wood (low-talent filmmaker hijinx) peek out. Catastrophe strikes all the time on a no-budget film set, and the film’s consistently funniest as Griff and Doug play fixer on the spot. When Anaconda is about inexperienced goofballs hoping to become the “white Jordan Peele,” driven by blind optimism and boundless enthusiasm, there’s something (fleeting) to enjoy.
Sure, the 1997 Anaconda has a rubbery snake prop, but I’d rather that be used than the lifeless pixelation on display.
But Gormican doesn’t have an eye for terror, nor do his action sensibilities dazzle. That’s a problem in an Anaconda reboot that starts with Ana speeding on her dirt bike from armed pursuers—a strange, confusingly vague cold open. It’s supposed to serve as an introduction to the snake’s ferocity but, between the uninspired computer graphics and choppy editing, serves more as a content warning of what’s to come. Gormican reuses the same underwater constriction shots every time someone’s killed, rapidly succumbing to the boring reality that Anaconda only has one trick in the horror department. No scene slithers under your skin, nor does any gruesomeness happen on camera to appease the PG-13 masses. Sure, the 1997 Anaconda has a rubbery snake prop, but I’d rather that be used than the lifeless pixelation on display.
Even worse, the stodgy comedy stylings of dopey Americans adrift in the Amazon are oftentimes lazy setups with pillowy payoffs. There isn’t much thought put into jokes about Kenny’s failed sobriety, Doug and Griff’s arguing over who’s the best driver, or Sony’s desire to cash in on Anaconda. Don’t get me wrong, Gormican had me howling at a few nostalgic callbacks (one ruined by trailers), and who doesn’t love overt Jurassic Park homages, but the bread and butter humor? It’s stale and uninspired, driving an even bigger wedge into an already fractured tonal blunder. Everything’s comical for a few seconds, but overstays its welcome: Black running with a thought-to-be-dead warthog on his back, Selton Mello’s way too passionate snake handler, bash-your-head-in callbacks to the original, even Rudd doing his patented pouty-faced jealousy routine.
Who is this reboot for, frankly? It strays detrimentally far from 1997’s Anaconda, making a mockery of the beloved midnighter. It’s also uninspiringly dry, leaning on low-hanging fruit in a script that begs for further development. The concept, “what if bozos trying to make Anaconda found themselves in Anaconda,” is achieved at face value but hardly at full potential. For such an out-of-bounds idea, everything reads so generic. The potty humor, the “Back in Black” and “Kickstart My Heart” needledrops, the repurposed Hollywood pyrotechnics à la Tropic Thunder—it’s all stock material repackaged anew.
