Anyone rightly suspicious of comedies that try to make sure they have plenty of “heart” will rightly get their hackles up during the opening section of Anaconda, which sheds the skin of its 1997 horror-adventure namesake to reveal a self-referential goof on unnecessary reboots. After an absolutely woeful attempt at a horror-movie cold open where it becomes clear that director/co-writer Tom Gormican hasn’t the merest glimmer of talent for establishing mood, building suspense or even properly unveiling a crazy creature, the movie settles in for the true mission of any great broad comedy: uh, building pathos? After years as an aspiring film-maker, Doug (Jack Black) is succeeding-yet-languishing in his compromised hometown job as a wedding videographer. Meanwhile, his childhood bestie, Griff (Paul Rudd), is following the dream by working as an actor out in Los Angeles, but only just barely. We see him fired from a one-line role on a medical show because of his nerves, in a scene written for nagging sympathy first and comedy a distant second.
When the pair reunites for Doug’s birthday, Griff springs a post-party surprise: he has supposedly come into possession of remake rights to Anaconda, an eclectically cast creature feature that they loved as teenagers. Why not seize the opportunity by shooting their own version on a shoestring, and finally make movies together like they always dreamed? Despite a nagging feeling of responsibility to his family, Doug eventually warms to Griff’s idea, and their fellow friends Kenny (Steve Zahn) and Claire (Thandiwe Newton) join the crew. Soon they’re on a boat in the Amazon, dealing with eccentric snake handler Santiago (Selton Mello) and mysterious boat captain Ana (Daniela Melchior).
At first, it’s pretty deflating to watch the naturally funny Black and Rudd (who have briefly shared the screen but never properly co-starred) do a poor-little-underdog-dreamers act. Shouldn’t these guys be satirizing Hollywood reboot ridiculousness, rather than cosplaying as humble regular folk who never really made it? But the best twist of Anaconda – and there are several dopey, half-assed ones – is that the sweetness of it lingers pleasantly, rather than thickening into treacle. Gormican works best in montage and when letting his stars bounce off each other, so the sequences of brainstorming, writing and prepping the team’s new take on a giant-snake movie (including Rudd and Black nodding thoughtfully about the topic of “themes”) loosen the movie up, bringing in much-needed laughs without sacrificing its essential good nature. Rudd can work wonders with affectations as small as Griff attempting to act cool with a toothpick in his mouth. Black is a little more subdued than usual, but can still summon his trademark mania when he speaks with great conviction about whether this new Anaconda is a reimagining or a “spiritual sequel”.
Like Gormican’s previous film, the Nicolas Cage meta-comedy The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Anaconda sometimes mistakes self-awareness for cleverness – and sometimes mistakes simply showing up for self-awareness. While Rudd and Black land real laughs, the movie around them blows opportunities left and right, especially when attempting to figure out how to push the crew into greater danger as they encounter a bigger, scarier snake than the one they’re using for their film. In a bizarre waffle, Melchior’s badass character must appear alternately opaque and invisible to keep her plot options open; well into the movie, it’s nearly impossible to define her relationship with any other single member of the cast, not least because she seems to disappear and reappear at random (despite a chunk of the movie taking place on a small boat).
Melchior probably suffers for her closer proximity to the movie’s occasional and appalling attempts to build genuine tension – moments that feel like hurried outlines of suspense sequences, more barely finished storyboards than fully executed scenes. Though the menacing snake is even bigger than before, with less janky CG than the 1997 version, this also denies any opportunity for animatronic-driven closeups that lend the earlier film a dash of retro charm in between the badly dated effects.
Still, Rudd and Black make the new Anaconda easy enough to accept as a comedy with a dash of clunky effects-based creature action, rather than a full-blown horror-comedy. Intense fandom of the earlier film isn’t necessary to have a good-enough time at this one, and Gormican deserves some credit for smuggling a mid-2000s-style studio comedy back into theaters under the guise of IP (the universal desire for which also gets shouted out here, naturally). Anaconda never reaches the delirious heights of Steve Martin’s similarly themed comedy Bowfinger. But it shares more DNA with that movie than some silly giant snake.