Los Angeles, California; January 3rd, 2026
Sony did not bring Anaconda back like it had something to prove. There was no sense of urgency, no frantic need to modernize the title, no loud insistence that this version mattered more than the one people already remembered. It arrived on Christmas Day the way some ideas do, quietly, almost casually, carrying a familiar name and a cast people trust, and trusting that curiosity would do more work than spectacle.
From the outset, the studio’s own framing made it clear this was not a reboot in the usual sense. It wasn’t trying to erase the 1997 film or overwrite it; it was openly built around the fact that the original exists, that people know it, and that nostalgia can be something you play with instead of something you hide behind. That single decision ends up shaping the entire movie, from how the story starts to how it lets itself unfold.
A Movie About Making a Movie, Until It Isn’t
The premise, on paper, sounds like a joke that knows it’s a joke. Doug McCallister and Ronald “Griff” Griffen Jr., played by Jack Black and Paul Rudd, are lifelong friends who decide to head into the jungle to make their own low-budget remake of Anaconda. It feels like a midlife impulse dressed up as a creative project, the kind of idea you come up with half seriously and then talk yourself into believing might actually work.
For a while, the movie lets that energy breathe. It leans into the absurdity just enough to be funny without winking too hard at the audience, letting the characters settle into a rhythm that feels familiar, loose, and intentionally unpolished. Then, without much ceremony, the situation turns real. The snake stops being theoretical, the environment stops being a backdrop, and the story slides, almost politely, into survival.
What’s interesting is that the film never fully abandons its sense of humor; it just stops letting humor lead. The comedy becomes a coping mechanism instead of the point, which is why the tonal shift works more often than it doesn’t.
An Ensemble That Carries the Weight Together
The supporting cast, including Steve Zahn, Thandiwe Newton, Daniela Melchior, and Selton Mello, helps ground that transition. This is not a film obsessed with finding a single hero. It’s far more interested in how people behave when a half-serious plan starts demanding real consequences, how confidence frays, how bravado evaporates, and how group dynamics shift when nobody’s in control anymore.
That focus on people rather than spectacle explains why the snake itself feels almost patient. It’s there, it’s dangerous, but it doesn’t dominate every frame. The movie is less about the monster and more about what happens when the joke you thought you were telling turns into the story you’re actually in.
Where It Was Made, and Why That Matters
Behind the scenes, the production itself followed a similarly grounded path. Filming took place in Queensland, Australia, with tropical locations standing in for the Amazon rainforest. Screen Queensland publicly confirmed the project was secured through its Production Attraction Strategy, with support from the Australian Government’s Location Offset program.
The numbers attached to that production aren’t abstract. The film brought an estimated 40 million dollars into the Queensland economy, employed more than 300 local screen practitioners, and included a trainee attachment program with 4 trainee positions. Statements from Queensland Arts Minister John Paul Langbroek and Screen Queensland Chief Executive Jacqui Feeney framed the project as both an economic and workforce investment, while remarks attributed to Sony Pictures President of Production Administration Andy Davis confirmed the studio’s involvement at the administrative level.
It’s easy to overlook details like that when talking about a creature feature, but they matter; they show the film as a working production with real footprint, not just a nostalgia exercise floating in a vacuum.
Direction That Trusts the Slow Build
The film was directed by Tom Gormican, who co-wrote the script with Kevin Etten, and you can feel that writing-first mindset throughout. The movie isn’t in a hurry. It lets scenes run a beat longer than expected, trusts pauses, and allows characters to reveal themselves through reaction rather than exposition.
That patience won’t work for everyone, but it feels intentional. This Anaconda is less interested in delivering a greatest-hits reel of jungle chaos and more interested in watching a silly idea collide with reality, one uncomfortable step at a time.
Tone, Rating, and How It Carries Itself
The film carries a PG 13 rating for violence and action, language, some drug use, and suggestive references, which suits its tone. It never leans so far into darkness that it feels mean, and it never stays light enough to feel disposable. It occupies that middle ground where humor and tension coexist, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes cleanly, but almost always honestly.
How It’s Been Received, and Why That Makes Sense
Early reactions have landed all over the map, which feels appropriate for a film that refuses to sit neatly in one genre. Some viewers respond to the chemistry between Black and Rudd, which carries much of the film’s warmth. Others bump against the tonal shifts, unsure whether they wanted more comedy or more danger.
Coverage from outlets like People has focused less on judgment and more on context, highlighting the cast, the premise, and even Ice Cube appearing as himself, reinforcing the sense that this movie is meant to be approachable rather than extreme.
A Movie Comfortable With What It Is
What stands out, now that the film has had a little time to settle, is how comfortable it seems being exactly what it is. Anaconda does not chase relevance, does not strain to justify its existence, and does not pretend it’s doing something revolutionary. It simply takes a familiar idea, turns it around in its hands, and asks what happens if you let curiosity lead instead of fear.
Whether this version becomes a one-off detour or the beginning of something else remains to be seen, but it doesn’t feel like a movie built around obligation. It feels like a group of people saying, “What if we tried this?” and being willing to see where it led.
In a landscape full of revivals that arrive shouting, Anaconda shows up talking, and sometimes that’s enough.
Appalachian Post 
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