ANACONDA Review: A Meta Reboot That Slithers Between Clever and Missed Opportunity

At this point in Hollywood’s endless nostalgia cycle, it feels as though no movie title from the past with even the faintest hint of name recognition is safe from revival. Sequels, reboots, requels, legacy continuations—studios have tried them all, often to diminishing returns. Against that backdrop, Sony’s decision to resurrect Anaconda might initially sound like just another cynical attempt to cash in on a familiar IP. Surprisingly, however, Anaconda (2025) doesn’t take the most obvious route. Instead of a straight remake or a conventional legacy sequel, it opts for something far more self-aware.

That ambition alone earns it some goodwill.

This new Anaconda begins not with a deadly snake stalking explorers, but with a meta commentary on the very idea of franchise revivals. It’s a film about people trying to reboot Anaconda—until reality starts to mirror fiction in the most dangerous way possible. The result is a horror-comedy that’s often charming, occasionally funny, sometimes tense, and ultimately a bit frustrating for what it almost—but not quite—manages to be.

A Meta Setup That Feels Right for the Moment

The film opens with Griff (Paul Rudd), a struggling actor whose Los Angeles career has stalled out. Disillusioned and nostalgic, Griff returns to his hometown of Buffalo, New York, longing to reconnect with the carefree days of his youth—when making silly movies with his friends felt more meaningful than chasing prestige or paychecks.

Griff’s solution to his midlife crisis is as absurd as it is relatable: reboot one of the movies he loved growing up. Conveniently, he’s managed to secure the rights to Anaconda, the gloriously over-the-top 1997 creature feature best remembered for Jon Voight’s wildly eccentric performance and a very large snake.

Griff ropes in his best friend Doug (Jack Black), a would-be director currently scraping by as a wedding videographer, along with their old buddies Kenny (Steve Zahn) and Claire (Thandiwe Newton). Their plan is to travel to the Amazon and shoot a dirt-cheap, ultra-independent horror movie—a tongue-in-cheek reboot made with love, nostalgia, and limited resources.

Naturally, things don’t go according to plan.

Once in the jungle, the group finds themselves stalked by an actual giant anaconda, turning their ironic meta project into a real-life survival nightmare. From that point on, Anaconda (2025) becomes a movie about people accidentally living inside the kind of ridiculous creature feature they thought they were mocking.

It’s a smart premise, and one that feels particularly timely in an era dominated by self-referential reboots.

Paul Rudd and Jack Black: Chemistry Carries the Film

If Anaconda works at all, it’s largely because of its two leads.

Paul Rudd and Jack Black have been orbiting each other for decades, both loosely associated with the early-2000s “Frat Pack” comedy scene. They’ve appeared in cameos together—memorably playing John Lennon and Paul McCartney in Walk Hard—but this is the first time they’ve truly co-starred as equals.

Their chemistry is immediate and believable. You buy them as lifelong friends, bonded by shared memories, inside jokes, and unfulfilled dreams. Rudd brings his signature affable sincerity to Griff, a man who masks disappointment with optimism and impulsive enthusiasm. Black, meanwhile, delivers his familiar brand of heightened energy, but with a slight twist.

In a welcome subversion, Doug is the cautious one. Rather than being the loud instigator, he’s the hesitant realist—the friend who needs convincing to go on this reckless adventure. That reversal helps keep the dynamic from feeling stale, even when Black occasionally slips into his well-worn comedic rhythms.

Together, Rudd and Black are consistently watchable, even when the script falters.

Comedy That Starts Strong… Then Loses Its Bite

The biggest issue with Anaconda is inconsistency. The film starts off sharp and amusing, especially when it leans into its meta sensibilities.

Early scenes are filled with clever touches, such as Doug’s boss (John Billingsley) cheerfully telling him he should be grateful for his “B, B+ life”—a line that perfectly encapsulates the film’s themes of mediocrity, regret, and compromised dreams. There are also genuinely funny moments that poke at reboot culture, including the delightfully simple joke of Doug titling their script The Anaconda. Of course the franchise eventually reaches the “The”-titled installment—it always does.

These early stretches suggest a movie willing to fully satirize Hollywood’s obsession with IP recycling. Unfortunately, Anaconda never quite commits to that direction. Once the group reaches the Amazon, the jokes become more sporadic. The film settles into a gentler, more subdued rhythm, relying heavily on the charm of its cast rather than delivering consistent comedic set pieces.

There are laughs, but fewer than you might expect given the premise and the talent involved. It often feels like the movie is holding back, as though unsure whether it wants to be a sharp satire, a broad comedy, or a straightforward creature feature with jokes sprinkled in.

Horror Elements: Effective but Underused

Despite its comedic leanings, Anaconda does manage to deliver on some genuine horror beats. There are a handful of effective jump scares, and the giant snake itself is appropriately imposing. It moves at a gleefully unrealistic speed—perfectly in line with the tradition of creature features where plausibility is optional.

A few mangled corpses appear along the way, reminding viewers that the stakes are real, even if the tone is playful. When the film leans into these moments, it becomes clear how much potential there was to blend horror and comedy more aggressively.

What’s missing is escalation. The idea of these hapless, self-aware filmmakers stumbling into increasingly macabre scenarios practically begs for darkly comic set pieces. Instead, the film often plays it safe, undercutting what could have been some truly outrageous moments.

A Meta Film That Doesn’t Fully Exploit Its Meta Potential

Writer-director Tom Gormican reunites here with co-writer Kevin Etten, following their previous collaboration on The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. Like that film, Anaconda is drawn to meta storytelling—stories about stories, fiction folding in on itself.

And like The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Anaconda feels slightly undercooked despite an entertaining setup.

There’s a particularly promising subplot involving a chance encounter with an actual big-budget Sony production shooting nearby. This could have been a goldmine for satire—contrasting indie scrappiness with corporate excess—but the film only scratches the surface. The opportunity for sharper commentary and bigger laughs is there, but largely left unexplored.

Gormican’s direction is clean and competent, but often too restrained. When darker or edgier ideas emerge, the visual style doesn’t fully support them, muting their impact rather than amplifying it.

Supporting Cast: Mixed Results, One Standout

Among the supporting players, Steve Zahn brings his usual offbeat charm to Kenny, a pill-popping wild card whose energy occasionally injects life into slower scenes. Thandiwe Newton, clearly eager to try something lighter and sillier than her usual dramatic fare, unfortunately isn’t given much to do. Claire remains a thinly sketched character, functioning mostly as a potential love interest for Griff rather than a fully realized presence.

Daniela Melchior fares better as a tough, resourceful local who becomes entangled with the group while fleeing dangerous people of her own. She brings physicality and credibility to the role, grounding the chaos around her.

The real standout, however, is Selton Mello as the snake wrangler for the film-within-the-film. Mello imbues the role with delightful eccentricity, delivering lines with earnest enthusiasm—particularly when he describes things as “snakey.” His performance feels like a loving homage to Jon Voight’s famously bizarre turn in the original Anaconda, which the characters directly reference.

Mello’s scenes consistently spark to life, making it clear how effective heightened weirdness can be in this world.

A Harmless Holiday Watch… With Frustrations

If you enjoy Paul Rudd and Jack Black—and many people do—Anaconda is an easy, harmless watch. It’s amiable, gently amusing, and rarely unpleasant. As a holiday-time release, it functions well enough as background entertainment that doesn’t demand too much from its audience.

That said, it’s hard to shake the feeling that this film could have been more. The meta premise begs for bolder choices, sharper satire, and more fearless blending of horror and comedy. Even something as obvious—and hilarious—as referencing Lake Placid vs. Anaconda somehow never comes up, which feels like an almost unforgivable omission.

The movie isn’t bad. It’s just not as clever or wild as it wants to be.

The “Baby Got Back” Phenomenon

Finally, no discussion of Anaconda (2025) would be complete without mentioning its most inexplicable creative decision: the heavy use of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s 1992 hit “Baby Got Back.”

Despite having virtually nothing to do with the movie—beyond a single lyric that uses “anaconda” as a euphemism—the song has become the film’s unofficial theme. It’s blasted in trailers, appears twice in the movie itself, and plays over the closing credits.

The choice is baffling, hilarious, and oddly fitting for a film that thrives on absurdity. One can only imagine Sir Mix-a-Lot happily collecting royalties, amused by the fact that a song about body positivity has somehow become synonymous with a giant killer snake.

Final Verdict: Fun, Familiar, and Slightly Toothless

MLWBD ANACONDA Review Verdict: Anaconda (2025) is a mildly entertaining, self-aware horror-comedy that benefits greatly from the charm of its leads but never fully capitalizes on its clever premise. It’s funny in places, tense in others, and consistently watchable—yet ultimately feels like a missed opportunity to deliver something sharper, darker, and more memorable.

For fans of Paul Rudd and Jack Black, it’s worth a look. For anyone hoping for a bold reinvention or biting satire of reboot culture, it may leave you wishing the snake had bitten a little harder.