Anybody who has reservations about movies that try to convince you they have "heart" will justifiably raise an eyebrow during the opening credits of Anaconda, which sheds the skin of its 1997 horror-adventure predecessor to reveal a self-referential joke about unnecessary remakes. After director/co-writer Tom Gormican absolutely botches a cold opening to a horror movie, where it becomes clear he has no talent for establishing mood, creating tension, or even revealing a crazy creature correctly, the film settles into its true mission for any big-budget comedy: Ah, building pathos. Over the years, as an aspiring filmmaker, Doug (Jack Black) has succeeded, but still feels like a compromise in his hometown as a wedding videographer. Meanwhile, his childhood best friend, Griff (Paul Reiser), has followed his dream by working as an actor in Los Angeles, but barely.
When they reunite for Doug's birthday, Griff pulls off an unexpected post-birthday surprise: He apparently has the remake rights to Anaconda, the eclectically cast creature flick they loved as teenagers. Why not take advantage of the opportunity to shoot their own version on a shoestring and finally make movies together, as they've always dreamed? Despite a nagging sense of family responsibility, Doug eventually warms to Griff's idea and joins the crew with their friends Kenny (Steve Zahn) and Chler (Tandyve Newtown). Soon, they're in the Amazon, dealing with eccentric snake hunter Santiago (Selton Mello) and the mysterious boat captain Ana (Daniael Mellicor).
At first, it's quite depressing to watch naturally funny Black and Reiser (who have played together briefly but never co-starred) in the role of poor-little-start-up-dreamers. Shouldn't these guys be satirizing Hollywood's remake nonsense rather than cosplaying as humble little guys who really can't make it? But Anaconda's best twist – and there are some silly, half-baked ones – is that the sentimentality stays pleasantly sweet rather than getting syrupy. Gormican works best in montage, and when he pits his stars against each other, so the brainstorming, writing, and creating sequences for their new Anaconda version (including Reiser and Black nodding thoughtfully about "themes") make the film, introducing the necessary laughs without sacrificing its essential good nature. Reiser can work miracles with a little bit of affectation, like Griff trying to look cool with a toothpick in his mouth. Black is slightly more restrained than usual, but he can still summon his signature mania when he gets big and convincing about whether this new Anaconda is a "reimagining" or a "spiritual sequel".
Like Gormican's previous film, Nicolas Cage's meta-comedy "The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent", Anaconda sometimes mistakes self-awareness for cleverness – and sometimes mistakes just appearing self-aware for cleverness. While Reiser and Black do generate real laughs, the film squanders opportunities around them, especially when trying to figure out how to push the crew into greater danger when they encounter a larger, more dangerous snake than the one they're using for their movie. In a weird waffle, Mellicor's feisty character has to appear alternately opaque and invisible to keep her plot options open; by the end of the film, it's almost impossible to figure out her relationship with any other cast members, not just because she seems to disappear and reappear randomly (despite the bulk of the film taking place on a small boat).
Mellicor may suffer from her closer proximity to the film's sometimes and poorly attempted attempts to build real tension – moments that feel like rushed suspense sequences, more poorly resolved subplots than fully realized scenes. While the dangerous snake is larger than before, with less junk CGI than the 1997 version, it also denies the opportunity for animatronic close-ups that give the earlier film retro charm amid its dated effects. Nevertheless, Reiser and Black take the new Anaconda as a comedy that has a little bit of rough effects-based creature action rather than a full-blown horror comedy. Fanaticism for the 1997 earlier film isn't necessary to have a good time with this one, and Gormican is due some credit for sneaking a studio comedy into theaters under the guise of an IP (whose Universal desire is also heard here, naturally). Anaconda never reaches the delirious heights of Steve Martin's similarly themed comedy Bowfinger. But it has more DNA with that film than some silly giant snakes.
