Gemma Wilson

It’s the trio that gives this story liftoff, thanks to spectacular performances from Groff, Radcliffe and Mendez as friends who have seen each other through their best and worst moments.

When everything’s clicking, there are moments of real beauty and introspection to be found here.

It doesn’t have the same wild unfamiliar sparkle as the original, but that’s the point. The joys of this film are similar to the joys of a beloved (real) band’s reunion concert: watching decades of personal and musical history play out onstage, cheering for the revolutionaries of their day and, in the case of the actor-creators of Spinal Tap, seeing what more than 40 years of commitment to a bit — and to each other — really looks like.

Even if the weave is loose and the big final reveal takes such a hard-left turn it could cause another traffic fatality, Honey Don’t! is a bleak and breezy good time. Don’t overthink it.

For vast swaths of this movie, despite excellent, unsettlingly comic performances from Brie and Franco, all I could see was the Big Idea, rather than two people on a horrifying journey. But the more gruesome the story gets . . . the stronger it is, as the over-the-top ick kept my brain present.

Do I think we need more reheated IP that uses our collective nostalgia as catnip to cover up the fact that we didn’t actually care that much about the original film? Nah, of course not. But if you’re gonna make it, make it well, make it fun and make it stand on its own two narrative feet. This update pulls that off, and with a bloody high body count to boot.

Parts of that story may be hard to watch, but, anchored by Venter’s extraordinary performance, it’s not hard to enjoy.