Why The Naked Gun Is the Unexpected Power Move America Desperately Needs Right Now — Unlock the Shocking Truth!
Let’s hear it for the blissfully dumb adult comedy! It feels like it’s been ages since Hollywood was truly excited by the idea of goofing around in the low-brow slapstick sandbox with taxidermy-beaver gags and brilliantly silly “Don’t call me Shirley” puns. And I’d argue that we’ve all lost something in their absence—something that, to me at least, seems as important as oxygen. In a word, that something is fun.
I’m not saying that heading to multiplex is a joyless chore right now. It’s still the best (legal) way to be entertained for a couple hours for less than twenty bucks. But we’re all so busy trying to keep straight what happened in the prequel to the sequel we’re watching, or which stage of the Marvel Cinematic Universe we’re in that going to the theater can feel like homework. Which is why Liam Neeson’s new movie, the blissfully stupid reboot of The Naked Gun, may just be the film that America needs right now. I’m not sure how or why Neeson added deadpan hilarity to his particular set of onscreen skills, but I’m thrilled that he did because it might be the most thrilling takeaway from the 2025 summer movie season.
It wasn’t all that long ago that movie like The Naked Gun came around pretty regularly. Rat-a-tat genre parodies like Top Secret!, Hot Shots!, and the various Austin Powers installments were intricate Rube Goldberg contraptions with the slightest whisp of a plot to cement the barrage of drive-by jokes together. Looking back, I now see that we all took these movies for granted. We just assumed that they’d always be a part of the celluloid ecosystem. This was a glorious era when complete strangers would come together in the hushed darkness of a movie theater with the sole purpose of communing with our fellow man by laughing our asses off like total idiots. The ‘70s gave us the films of Mel Brooks and Monty Python. The ‘80s brought Airplane!, Trading Places, and Fletch. And the ‘90s served up Jim Carrey with a side of the Farrelly brothers. But ever since the early-aughts heyday of Judd Apatow and Ron Burgundy, big dumb comedies—especially ones that clock in under 90 minutes—have been largely MIA. Where did they go? Why did they go? Fortunately, Sgt. Frank Drebin Jr. is on the case.
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