There are times when yet another installment in an established franchise can only inspire weariness, jadedness, and a bit of despair in our remake, spin-off, and “legacy sequel”-saturated landscape. The Naked Gun (USA, 2025) technically falls into that last category, but deserves to be judged solely on the merits of its wonderful physical comedy—so dumb it’s disarming. This movie brings exactly “zero” pretensions to the table: it exists purely to make you laugh.
This is partly because it revives a franchise dormant for three decades, requiring considerable updates to match contemporary sensibilities. The 1988 original starring Leslie Nielsen opened with Cold War-era Eastern Bloc caricatures, featured Priscilla Presley as little more than eye candy, and cast O.J. Simpson in a role where he at least got abused in every scene. Different times.
This new version stars action icon Liam Neeson as Nielsen’s character’s son—acknowledging its past while bringing this brand of comedy into the present.
What’s It About?
A mysterious car crash leads Lt. Frank Drebin Jr. (Liam Neeson) of the Los Angeles Police Squad to investigate a possible murder. The victim worked for tech billionaire Richard Cane (Danny Huston).
When author Beth Davenport (Pamela Anderson), the victim’s sister, enters the picture, all clues point to Cane as the prime suspect. Drebin must employ his… unique police skills to solve the crime, woo Beth, and keep his job.
But let’s be honest—none of this really matters, does it?
The Naked Gun Delivers Masterful Physical Comedy
Let’s say it: The Naked Gun is a very, very stupid movie—in all the best ways. The puns are dumb, sometimes nearly childish. Same goes for the physical comedy—the foundation this movie is built on—yet executed with enviable skill at every level, from camerawork to performances.
Liam Neeson particularly shines with comic timing reminiscent of Nielsen’s: maintaining near-stoic seriousness amid the most absurd circumstances. In many ways, this spoofs Neeson’s own career as a masculine (and often tragic) action hero more than it parodies police procedurals—though it does offer vague commentary on police violence.
The gags don’t reach the cartoonish exaggeration of the originals—likely too much for today’s tastes—but get contemporary visual updates like electric cars and thermal imaging.
Fortunately, the updates extend to representation and messaging. Pamela Anderson’s casting capitalizes on her underrated comic chops. The villain parodies modern tech bro billionaires peddling technocracy and hypermasculinity while being physically useless. Some of the original’s dated jokes are wisely omitted, with no loss of laughs.
Director/co-writer Akiva Schaffer performs a delicate balancing act between past and present that could easily veer into reactionary nostalgia or “innocent” humor masking outdated ideals.
Better yet, this is a triumphant return of gloriously dumb physical comedy that transcends the franchise interconnection plaguing modern cinema. Its sole purpose? To make you laugh and deliver a damn good time at the movies.
