Competing with Avatar and Marty Supreme over the Christmas box office, Anaconda finds itself squeezing out a nice hunk of the marketplace. This meta-comedy of an unauthorized Anaconda-sequel from two Buffalo, New York childhood friends (Jack Black and Paul Rudd) comes nearly 30 years after the original horror suspense genre film — 1997’s Anaconda.
A wise play by Sony Pictures, Black and Rudd are likely taking a nice piece of the back end of this theatrical comedy with its budget reportedly coming in at a reasonable 45 million. Having just cross the 50 million dollar mark globally, the film is on track to be profitable for all parties involved and is a great metric for the hopeful return of theatrical comedy releases.
Creatively, there are many elements that work in the film and many that fall short (as witnessed by other reviewers). After watching the film’s trailer, we’ll dive into the screenplay and story that makes Buffalo sober a new term rivaling California sober.
Tom Gormican’s Anaconda announces its comedic intentions immediately, opening on Griffin (Paul Rudd), a once-hopeful actor in Los Angeles who now can’t seem to deliver two simple lines on a medical drama without unraveling. The idea of an actor with two decades of professional experience failing so completely stretches credibility, and Griffin’s deliberately incompetent, vaguely 1980s “aww shucks” persona slightly takes away from the film’s early immersion. Rather than reading as satire, the characterization risks pulling the viewer out of the film before its central premise has fully taken shape.
Equally broad is Jack Black’s Doug McCallister, a Buffalo-based wedding videographer who channels his unfulfilled artistic ambition into aggressively stylized horror-inspired directorial flourishes—much to the confusion of couples who just want a straightforward keepsake of their ceremony. Unlike Griffin, Doug never chased his dreams in Los Angeles, and Black plays him as a man whose creative instincts far exceed the practical applications available to him. It’s an absurd setup, though one that fits comfortably within Black’s comedic wheelhouse.
The inciting incident arrives when Griffin returns home for Doug’s birthday and claims—falsely—that he has secured the rights to the Anaconda property. What begins as a nostalgic fantasy quickly evolves into a plan for a low-budget, indie-style legacy sequel. Doug eagerly buys in, and the pair rope in their childhood friends, including Claire Simons (Thandiwe Newton) and Kenny Trent (Steve Zahn), the latter serving as the film’s primary source of comic relief.
From there, Anaconda pivots into its meta premise: a movie about people attempting to remake Anaconda inside a world where the original film exists. The group heads into the Amazon to shoot their version, only to find themselves confronted by an actual anaconda—one far less forgiving than the rubbery creature of the 1997 original.
At its strongest, the film leans into the self-awareness of this setup. The early stretch, focused on delusional low-budget filmmaking and intentionally terrible creative decisions, delivers the most consistent laughs. Gormican’s script is sharpest when it skewers misplaced confidence and the earnestness of amateur auteurs mistaking nostalgia for vision. As the film gradually shifts toward more conventional action beats, however, that playful momentum begins to dissipate.
Rudd and Black share an easy, lived-in chemistry that makes their friendship believable, even when the script undercuts Griffin’s credibility as a performer. Black emerges as the film’s comic engine, fully committing to Doug’s bombastic enthusiasm and creative insecurity. Rudd remains likable, but the screenplay never quite allows his performance to escalate in a way that fully supports him as a comedic leading man in this particular sandbox.
Newton is underserved as Claire, a character whose emotional and professional life remains largely unexplored, while Zahn’s Kenny delivers a handful of laughs without much dimensionality. These underwritten roles slightly take away from the film’s emotional texture, particularly as the story gestures toward deeper themes of regret and unrealized ambition.
A late cameo by Ice Cube—playing himself as the lone survivor of a properly licensed studio Anaconda production gone wrong—provides the film’s most overtly meta moment. Having hidden out on a snake-ravaged set with unused stunt pyrotechnics still intact, Cube becomes the unlikely key to the group’s survival. The decision by Griffin and Doug to repurpose those explosives to take down the real anaconda is one of the script’s more inspired ideas, even if the execution doesn’t fully capitalize on its satirical potential.
From a craft perspective, Anaconda is competent but unremarkable. The direction keeps things moving, the cinematography captures the jungle cleanly without developing a visual identity, and the updated visual effects significantly surpass the low-tech charm of the original. Editing favors efficiency over comedic timing, occasionally taking away from jokes that might have landed more cleanly with sharper rhythm.
Ultimately, Anaconda is an agreeable diversion—an uneven but mildly entertaining theatrical comedy arriving at a time when such releases are increasingly rare. Its uninspired script and tonal shifts keep it from standing out, but its affability and moments of genuine charm make it a pleasant escape.
Letter Grade: B-