'The Naked Gun' Review: A Slapstick Symphony In The Key Of Neeson

HOLLYWOOD, CA — Akiva Schaffer’s “The Naked Gun” doesn’t just dust off the trench coat — it tailors it anew for a world obsessed with emojis. The result? A riotously funny reboot reimagined for the digital age, where rapid-fire gags and deadpan absurdity gloriously collide with noir grit, slapstick chaos, and musical flair.

Liam Neeson trades brooding vigilante for bumbling detective Frank Drebin Jr. in this genre blender that pays homage to the original “Naked Gun” trilogy and its roots in the “Police Squad!” TV series that made Leslie Nielsen a comedy legend.

At first, the casting feels absurd — until Neeson interrogates a mime and whispers a line so straight-faced it could be from “Taken.”

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

It’s “Taken” meets “The Naked Gun,” and Neeson’s commitment is what makes it work. His performance is a masterclass in self-parody. He channels the weary cynicism of Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe, refracted through digital-age absurdity. Playing Drebin Sr.’s son, Neeson doesn’t copy Nielsen’s zany brilliance; he amplifies it by spoofing himself with stone-faced sincerity and action-star gravitas. Even disguised as a little girl with a giant lollipop or dodging surveillance muffins, Neeson never breaks character. His deadpan delivery transforms nonsense into noir.

Schaffer’s sharp direction is the secret weapon. By framing Neeson’s stoicism against pure absurdity, he turns slapstick into satire and parody into precision. His comedic instincts — honed through “Hot Rod,” “Popstar,” and “Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers” — make every deadpan moment land with surgical timing.

Drebin Jr.'s case? Stop a cyber-syndicate from replacing U.S. law with emoji strings. His investigation begins with the suspicious death of tech engineer Simon Davenport, a crusader for digital justice found behind the wheel of a self-driving car. He suspects suicide — until Simon’s sister Beth storms into Police Squad with a saxophone and a vendetta.

Drebin, reviewing Simon’s encrypted files while battling a rogue smart coffee maker, mutters:

“He’s fighting for justice. I’m fighting for Wi-Fi.”

It’s a line that sums up the film’s tone: noir grit meets digital-age chaos and absurdity.

With Beth’s entrance, the film changes tempo — swinging from deadpan noir to jazzy madness.

Pamela Anderson is a revelation as Beth Davenport, a civil rights attorney and jazz vocalist. Her mop-handle sax solo feels like “Chicago” meets “Legally Blonde,” and her line —“I didn’t go to law school to be reasonable.” — lands with perfect timing.

Anderson channels Priscilla Presley’s glamor and comedic poise, adding a sly self-awareness and jazzy defiance that make the role unmistakably her own.

The mashups are relentless: courtroom drama scored like a heist, noir monologues over emoji trials, and thriller tropes twisted into slapstick. One scene riffs on “Airplane!” with a flashback where Drebin Jr. mistakes turbulence for a legal loophole and ejects himself from a courtroom.

Neeson’s performance anchors it all — stoic, sincere, and slyly brilliant. He’s a Marlowe trapped in the digital age, bathed in action-star grit, armed with slapstick swagger, and smitten with a dame who zings hard — jazzy, brassy, sultry. Like a solo that stings and swings.

“The Naked Gun” doesn’t lampoon the legacy — it deftly reframes it in the key of Neeson: one deadpan note at a time.