The film follows Winston (Peter Dinklage), an everyday man in a decaying, corporate-choked world, who just wants to take care of his stepson. When a cancer diagnosis hits and his company insurance (run by the ever-smug Garbinger) refuses to cover treatment, Winston snaps. In an act of desperation, he tries to take matters into his own hands—and instead gets transformed into the one and only Toxic Avenger. Limbs, laughs, and lumps of radioactive goo ensue, all while Winston tries to be the unlikely hero his stepson deserves.
Peter Dinklage is nothing short of brilliant here. He brings layers of vulnerability to Winston, and when his rage finally erupts, you actually feel for him. It’s not just slime and gore—you relate to the guy.
Kevin Bacon continues to expand his “villain Hall of Fame.” He plays Garbinger with the kind of evil smirk that makes you want to boo him like a pantomime baddie—and it’s effortless for him.
Taylour Paige radiates cool spy energy. She’s slick, stylish, and completely steals scenes whenever she’s on screen. The cast, from top to bottom, balances the absurd with the heartfelt—a rare trick in a film where heads are literally popping like balloons.
Macon Blair’s script sets the stage in a wonderfully deranged way: rap-rock mercenaries, poisoned products, and a society that’s basically given up. The satire is sharp and unapologetic, leaning into absurdity while keeping a core of heart.
The prosthetic work deserves a standing ovation. They went full practical, and it’s grotesque in the best way possible. Pulsating skin, warped features, oozing details—it’s gross, hilarious, and somehow touching. This is hands-down nastier than the 80s original, but it never forgets to position Winston as a hero.
Musically, the score shifts between ominous grit and tongue-in-cheek mayhem, keeping you on edge while reminding you it’s all a satire.
This reboot works because it doesn’t try to sanitize the ridiculousness of the original—it embraces it. The nostalgia is heavy, with countless nods to the 80s cult classic, but it never alienates the new generation. Instead, it reinvents the toxic wheel, blending heart with hilarity.
The gore? Oh, it’s here. Heads squish, arms fly, guts spill—but it’s so over-the-top it tips into slapstick. It’s violent, yes, but never bleak. The humour is thick in every dismemberment, making it feel more Looney Tunes with blood than Terrifier-level nightmare fuel.
Surprisingly, beneath all the absurdity is a story with genuine heart. Winston isn’t just slime with superpowers; he’s a desperate man trying to care for his stepson in a broken system. That emotional anchor gives the chaos weight, making the laughter hit harder and the action more satisfying.
At the end of the day, The Toxic Avenger (2025) is a gory, gooey, heartfelt riot. It’s satire with splatter, nostalgia with new energy, and a remake that actually earns its place.
💚 Radioactive, ridiculous, and surprisingly touching—the hero we didn’t know we needed, but absolutely deserved.
