Anaconda

There is a specific brand of madness that only hits when a person realizes their "glory days" are now officially further away than the impending horizon of retirement. It’s that itchy, desperate need to reclaim a shred of youthful relevance, and in Tom Gormican’s Anaconda (2025), that desperation involves a camera crew, a very humid rainforest, and a predator that doesn't care about your character arc. I watched this on my couch while my neighbor’s leaf blower hummed in a perfect B-flat, which oddly added to the ambient tension of the rainforest scenes, though I doubt Nigel Bluck intended for suburban yard maintenance to be part of the soundscape.

This isn't the 1997 creature feature you might be expecting. It’s something much more indicative of our current cinematic moment: a meta-reimagining that is as much about the absurdity of modern franchise culture as it is about giant, hungry reptiles. We are firmly in the era of the "self-aware legacy sequel," and Anaconda leans into that identity with a goofy, grinning confidence.

The Dad-Bod Expeditionary Force

The premise follows a group of friends—played by the comedy dream team of Jack Black, Paul Rudd, and Steve Zahn—who head into the jungle to remake their favorite childhood flick. Jack Black is Doug McCallister, a man whose enthusiasm for the project is matched only by his complete lack of survival skills. Black is in top form here, vibrating with that manic energy we haven't seen quite this clearly since Tropic Thunder.

Opposite him, Paul Rudd plays Ronald Griffin Jr. with a weary, dry wit that suggests he’s only there because he’s bored of his own life. The chemistry between these two is the film’s secret weapon. Watching them bicker about camera angles while a massive green presence looms in the background is genuinely hilarious. Paul Rudd’s face is the only thing in cinema that hasn't aged since the original 1997 movie came out, and the film makes several clever nods to that genetic miracle.

Steve Zahn rounds out the trio as Kenny Trent, providing the kind of high-strung, nervous energy that makes you wonder if he’s actually terrified of the snakes or just the possibility of the movie being a flop. It’s a "Dad-core" adventure that feels remarkably grounded in the current cultural anxiety of Gen X and Millennials trying to stay "cool" in a world that has moved on to TikTok trends they don't understand.

Meta-Slithering and Creature Comforts

Director Tom Gormican, who previously navigated the meta-waters with The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, knows exactly how to balance the irony. The film never feels like it's mocking the original Anaconda (a cult classic I will defend to my grave for Jon Voight’s sneer alone). Instead, it treats the 1997 film with a weirdly touching reverence. This movie treats Jon Voight’s 1997 wink-fest with more reverence than most people treat the Bible.

The horror elements are surprisingly effective, too. While the comedy is the lead singer, the horror is a very competent bassist. The CGI on the snakes is a massive leap forward from the rubber-and-pixel hybrids of the 90s, utilizing modern rendering techniques that make the scales look uncomfortably wet. When the action shifts from "guys making a movie" to "guys trying not to be lunch," the tension holds up. The inclusion of Thandiwe Newton as Claire Simons adds a much-needed layer of competence to the group; she plays the "grown-up in the room" with a sharp, cynical edge that cuts through the boys' nonsense.

What’s interesting about this 2025 version is how it handles its criminals. Selton Mello and Daniela Melchior bring a localized grit to the proceedings that keeps the stakes from feeling purely cartoonish. It reflects the modern trend of diversifying casts and perspectives, moving away from the "clueless locals" tropes of older adventure cinema and giving the setting a real sense of place.

The Survival of the Funniest

Produced by Fully Formed Entertainment for about $45 million, Anaconda is a rare breed in the 2020s: a mid-budget studio comedy that actually looks like it was filmed on location. While many modern blockbusters feel trapped in the "LED Volume" glow, Gormican’s film feels sweaty and tactile. You can almost feel the humidity through the screen.

The screenplay by Gormican and Kevin Etten is packed with sharp observations about our obsession with nostalgia. There’s a running gag about "IP-driven content" that feels like the writers are biting the hand that feeds them, but it’s done with enough affection that you don't mind. Apparently, the production faced its own share of real-world hurdles, including a brief shutdown due to a literal snake infestation on one of the Brazilian sets—Jack Black reportedly insisted on naming the largest one "Cuddles," which is the most Jack Black thing imaginable.

Ultimately, the film works because it doesn't try to be a "prestige" horror movie. It knows it’s a popcorn flick. In an era where every movie feels like it has to be a three-hour epic or a social manifesto, there is something profoundly refreshing about a 100-minute romp that just wants to show you some funny people being chased by a very large snake. It's a reminder that cinema can just be fun.

Anaconda is the cinematic equivalent of a high-end burger: it’s familiar, it’s exactly what you asked for, and it’s executed with way more craft than it strictly needs. Gormican has managed to turn a potential "cash-grab" reboot into a witty, charming, and occasionally creepy reflection on why we love movies in the first place. If you’re looking for a way to kill a Friday night, you could do a whole lot worse than heading back into the Amazon with this lot. Just don't expect Paul Rudd to age by the time the credits roll.

--- ### Stuff You Didn't Notice:

The camera Doug McCallister uses is a direct model used in high-end indie productions of the early 2000s, a nod to the characters' stuck-in-the-past mindsets. Keep an eye out for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo from a piece of the original 1997 animatronic snake in the background of a jungle camp scene. * Daniela Melchior performed several of her own stunts in the river sequences, leading the crew to nickname her "The Piranha."