Best friends Griff and Doug have always dreamed of remaking their all-time favorite movie "Anaconda." When a midlife crisis pushes them to finally go for it, they assemble a crew and head deep into the jungles of the Amazon to start filming. However, life soon imitates art when a gigantic anaconda with a thirst for blood starts hunting them down.
Tom Gormican’s Anaconda (2025) arrives with the kind of self‑aware swagger that tells you it knows exactly what it is: a meta‑reboot that doesn’t want to outdo the 1997 cult classic, doesn’t want to reinvent cinema, and definitely doesn’t want to take itself too seriously. Instead, Gormican and co‑writers Kevin Etten and Hans Bauer lean into a playful, chaotic, action‑comedy experiment that feels like a group of old friends dared each other to remake a beloved VHS from their youth. What starts as a nostalgic passion project quickly spirals into jungle‑soaked mayhem, existential panic, and a surprising amount of emotional sincerity.
The story follows a cluster of mid‑life‑crisis friends who decide to remake the Anaconda movie they adored as teenagers. It’s a clever pivot away from the original’s straight‑faced creature feature. Instead of retreading the same beats, the film reframes the premise as a movie‑within‑a‑movie, where the cast’s personal baggage becomes just as dangerous as the giant CGI snakes. It’s messy, it’s meta, and it’s genuinely refreshing to see a reboot that uses its inspiration as a springboard rather than a template.
Paul Rudd is the biggest surprise here. After years of perfecting the lovable ham routine, he flips his persona on its head and leans into a kind of deliberately awkward anti‑comedy. He plays an actor who thinks he’s serious, acts like he’s serious, and yet is so hilariously out of his depth that the performance becomes its own joke. There’s a subtle amateurishness to him; a lack of awareness that feels intentional and oddly endearing. It’s a fun contrast to his usual polished charm, and it gives the film a comedic texture that feels new for him.
Jack Black, meanwhile, is exactly the Jack Black you expect and want; loud, boisterous, playful, and clearly having the time of his life, he once again proves he’s the undisputed king of jungle‑set chaos. What’s interesting is that, for once, he isn’t the biggest energy source in the cast. Rudd’s chaotic earnestness often overshadows him, creating a fun inversion of their usual comedic dynamics. Black feels like the seasoned pro watching his friend unravel, and he leans into that dynamic beautifully.
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Thandiwe Newton brings a surprising amount of heart to the film as Claire, the level‑headed corporate type who never lost sight of her friendships, or her old flames. She plays the “crushing girl” archetype with a theatrical subtlety that’s rare in a movie like this. Her emotions simmer in glances and pauses rather than being spelled out in dialogue. It’s refreshing to see a popcorn flick trust the audience enough to let subtext breathe. Newton gives the film a pulse it didn’t strictly need but is much better for having.
Steve Zahn’s Kenny is a walking mood swing, and it’s glorious. One moment he’s exhilarated, the next he’s depressed, then manic, then drunk, then weirdly philosophical. Zahn plays him as a man wrestling with his vices, but with a palpable love for his friends that keeps him from becoming a caricature. It’s a more unpredictable, more emotionally jagged version of the roles he’s known for, and that unpredictability becomes one of the film’s comedic engines. His chaotic emotional swings add a layer of texture that keeps scenes lively even when the plot slows down.
Selton Mello’s Santiago, the snake handler, is one of the film’s strangest and most delightful creations. Deadpan yet affectionate, sociopathic yet oddly nurturing, he feels like he wandered in from a completely different movie; and that contrast only makes him more compelling. The cast as a whole is a collection of extreme personalities, misfits and lovable disasters whose chemistry gives the film a scrappy, homemade charm.
Sony clearly relishes the opportunity to go meta. There are cameos, callbacks, and winks to the audience; some subtle, some not so subtle. Without spoiling anything, fans of the original will spot a few familiar faces. The film never mocks the 1997 classic; instead, it treats it like a beloved relic worth celebrating, remixing, and occasionally roasting. It’s a reboot that understands nostalgia without being trapped by it.
The snakes themselves are fully CGI and very obviously so. But because the film leans into comedy rather than horror, the artificial look becomes part of the charm. If this were a serious thriller, it would be less forgivable.
There’s a definite Tropic Thunder energy to the whole affair (actors filming in the jungle, egos clashing, reality blurring with fiction) but Anaconda (2025) never reaches the same satirical heights. It’s gentler, sillier, and more affectionate toward its characters. Still, the comparison is earned, and fans of that style of comedy will find plenty to enjoy.
The soundtrack is another unexpected delight: a mix of unconventional tracks that shouldn’t work in a jungle‑snake‑meta‑comedy, yet somehow elevate every scene. It’s playful, unexpected, and perfectly aligned with the film’s “why not?” attitude. The music becomes part of the film’s identity, lifting even the goofiest moments.
While the film puts a fresh spin on the original, it still hits some familiar beats. There’s only so much you can do with a giant snake story, after all. And yes, it probably won’t be remembered as a genre‑defining reboot. But that’s not the point. Anaconda (2025) is a movie that shows up, makes you laugh, surprises you with a bit of heart, and then bows out gracefully. It’s a film that’s proudly here for a good time, not a long time; and sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.
Anaconda will be released in NZ cinemas from December 26, 2025
Find your nearest screenings here