This doesn’t start well, indeed after about ten minutes I thought it was just going to be “Tyrion Lannister” does “Bruce Banner”. Well I was quite pleasantly surprised as it takes those foundations and, with it’s tongue firmly implanted in it’s cheek, and with him suitably armed with his newly radioactive mop, we set off on a crime caper with a difference. Kevin Bacon’s “Bob Garbinger” runs a big chemical company that routinely churns out enough gunge into the rivers and streams of the city to give Julia Roberts and Albert Finney enough work for a lifetime. “Winston” (Peter Dinklage) is trying to rear teenage stepson “Wade” (Jacob Tremblay) whilst holding down a menial job in one of those plants. When he gets a terrible diagnosis from his doctor, he thinks he has company health insurance - but when platinum turns out not to be all it’s cracked up to be, he decides to ask his boss to intercede. That just sees him rather savagely treated and dumped into a drain where, well let’s just say it isn’t envy that has turned him green. Meantime, we learn that all in his garden isn’t exactly rosy for “Garbinger” either, so with hoodlums chasing him and his wacky brother “Fritz” (Elijah Wood doing his best impersonation of “Gru”) organising a kid-napping it falls to the irritated “Toxie” to save the city, nobble the baddies, rescue “Wade” and maybe even stop his eye from constantly popping…

My quick rating - 7.0/10. Somewhere in the cosmic video store of nostalgia, my 12-year-old self just did a cartwheel in parachute pants. I grew up rewinding the original Toxic Avenger on worn-out VHS until the tracking lines looked like snowstorms over Tromaville. So when Hollywood whispered “remake,” I braced myself for PG-13 sterilization and emotional damage. But bless Macon Blair’s radioactive heart—he didn’t just do it justice, he hosed it down in glowing sludge and handed it a mop. Our new hero is Winston Gooze (Peter Dinklage), a terminally ill janitor who gets baptized in toxic goop and comes out looking like a meatball with abs and a Costco-sized case of trauma. Dinklage doesn’t just play Toxie, he owns him. He swings that glowing mop like Excalibur dipped in biohazard, and suddenly I remembered why deformed vigilantes matter: because nothing says “hero” like ripping someone’s intestines out while trying to make it to parent-teacher night. And can we talk about the casting? Kevin Bacon as the corporate tyrant who drinks villain monologues for breakfast? Chef’s kiss. Elijah Wood pops up as his gremlin-esque brother, looking like he crawled out of a vat of expired hair dye and cryptid rumors swirling in the time warp. Their private death squad, the Killer Nutz, is less “elite mercenaries” and more “fetish convention meets meth carnival,” which is a compliment in the Tr…

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