HUNGRY (2026)—REVIEW

Hungry (2026), written and directed by James Nunn, is an entertaining and novel twist on the animal attack genre. Great white sharks I’m used to. Oversized alligators, sure. Giant anaconda even. But a hippotamus? How implausimus! From top to bottomus! And yet Nunn’s implausible premise of a killer hippo on the rampage in the Louisiana bayou is nothing more than a creative stretch of the imagination from an all-but-forgotten historical fact. 

In 1910, Louisiana Congressman Robert F. Broussard introduced the “American Hippo Bill” (H.R. 23261) to authorize the importation and release of hippos into the swamps. The ambitious, albeit bizarre, plan aimed to accomplish two goals. First, it intended to solve a national meat shortage. Hippos would serve as an alternative, free-ranging livestock source, offering meat some promoters jokingly called “lake cow bacon”. Second, hippos were expected to consume the choking, invasive water hyacinths that were ruining local fishing and boat navigation. 

Despite strong backing from conservationists, military spies, President Theodore Roosevelt and the U.S. Department of Agriculture—let alone a glowing editorial in the New York Times (who promised their readers “delicious. hyacinth-fed hippopotamus of Louisiana's lily-fringed streams”)—the legislation ultimately failed to pass. Instead of importing hippos, the U.S. Department of Agriculture opted to resolve meat shortages by expanding traditional cattle ranching and domestic beef production. 

But such a story invites a “what if?”, as laid out in articles for the Smithsonian and Wired, and in Nunn’s innovative appropriation of these details to deliver a straightforward treatment—with refreshingly little irony—of an animal attack unlike anything genre buffs have seen to date. A killer hippo has been long overdue.  

Hungry’s opening sequence shows a large alligator aptly named Big Ben sporting a tracking device being abruptly devoured by something even larger in the water. We know it’s the hippopotamus but we don’t see it very well. In fact, the hippo is only hinted at for the first half of the movie, which speaks to remarkable restraint of special effects on the part of the filmmakers. Instead, we’re introduced to our ensemble and reasonable effort is spent developing their characters. 

Veteran actor Joaquim de Almeida as Walker is the film’s seasoned harbinger of doom, the owner of a bayou touring company. Rodrigo (Michel Curiel) is a tour guide in Walker’s employ who organizes an outing with two sister friends Sistine (Madison Davenport) and Hannah (Olivia Bernstone), a family trio made up of grandfather Tim (Jim Meskimen), his daughter Sally (Samantha Coughlin) and her son Mikey (River Codack), and a selfish black businesswoman Dionne (Tracey Bonner) who’s the character you love to hate. Dionne bribes Rodrigo with a large tip to take the group to a remote area of the bayou to photograph the legendary Big Ben; but, they only find his carcass unexpectedly ripped in half. Just as they start to ask, “What did that?”, their boat is attacked and capsized, and they’re thrown into the water. Panic ensues and survival becomes the driving force of the film from then on, interrupted now and then by maudlin scenes of desperation as one by one they’re knocked off by the hippo. We get to know each character just enough to feel bad for them when they die, which is the point of course. It adds a hint of tragedy to the inevitable formula. 

Cinematographer Job Reineke does a good job of keeping his camera level with the surface of the water or slightly below looking up through the water so that one feels the palpable threat of the hippo being somewhere nearby. Interstitial shots of the swamp itself visualize the indifferent beauty of the bayou, which in its own way becomes a character. 

When the hippo finally does appear in its fully glory it is a hefty horrific beast and is surprisingly believable. After most of the cast has been done away with, the film begins to slow down to a rumination on motherhood. Sistine harbors guilt over not having been able to properly care for her ailing mother and suffers from feeling that she is a failure altogether, not able to keep a minimum wage job and in fear of losing her home. Surviving one onslaught from the hippo after another strengthens her character as she maneuvers her way to becoming final girl. Davenport delivers a sympathetic performance that serves as ballast. 

Early on in Hungry, Walker serves as harbinger in describing how dangerous hippos can be when provoked, able to kill easily with their huge jaws; but hippos are herbivores so their motivation is not hunger as the film’s title suggests, or if they are hungry it’s more a blood lust to kill anything that intrudes into its territory. Their only conscience, Walker suggests, is about protecting their young, which Sistine understands and uses. By doing so she relieves some of the guilt she feels over her own mother. It’s a bit of an overwrought ending but doesn’t in any way take away from the film’s generous and entertaining action.