The Munsters (2022)

What makes The Munsters (2022) special is how earnestly it commits to being a big, colorful love letter to the old sitcom—less a modern reinvention than a cheerful, candy-coated haunted house you get to wander through. Rob Zombie trades his usual menace for deliberate, corny charm, letting the jokes land with a wink and bathing everything in a storybook Transylvania-to-suburbia aesthetic that feels handmade and happily artificial. At its heart it’s a sweet monster romance, powered by a goofball Herman and a smitten Lily, with the movie’s affection for these oddballs doing most of the heavy lifting. If you need sharp satire or slick, contemporary comedy it may feel too broad and stagey, but if you’re even slightly nostalgic for the Munsters’ wholesome weirdness, this one’s an easy, cozy watch.

Rob Zombie’s The Munsters is clearly trying to be a candy-colored love letter to the old TV show, with a goofy, family-friendly monster romance and tons of retro sets, makeup, and corny one-liners. The problem is it often feels like an overlong sketch: the story meanders, the pacing drags, and the jokes land more “forced sitcom mugging” than genuinely funny. If you’re expecting sharp comedy, a strong plot, or anything resembling Zombie’s darker edge, this will likely test your patience. But if you’re the type who enjoys kitsch for its own sake and can treat it like a bright, weird Halloween stage play, there’s some sincere charm in the performances and production design.