Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich (2018)

Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich is the rare reboot that understands its own ridiculousness and turns it into a gleefully nasty party trick: a slickly made, ferociously paced splatter-comedy where tiny killers wreak outsized havoc with inventive, cheerfully excessive gore. The movie’s secret weapon is its tone—part midnight-movie mayhem, part knowing satire—so the laughs land not in spite of the bloodshed, but because the film commits to the madness with real craft and momentum. Thomas Lennon makes a surprisingly effective guide through the chaos, grounding the insanity just enough that the carnage feels like a roller coaster instead of noise. Fair warning: it’s deliberately distasteful and plays with ugly subject matter, so it’s not for everyone—but if you want a polished, over-the-top horror-comedy that goes for broke and actually delivers, this one earns its wicked grin.

Puppet Master: The Littlest Reich wants to be a splattery, convention-set horror-comedy that “reboots” the franchise with faster pacing, bigger body counts, and a nastier satirical bite. The problem is the satire often plays like smug shock-jock provocation, leaning hard on racist and anti-gay violence and ugly backstory elements that can feel more exploitative than clever, especially when the story itself is pretty thin. If you’re coming for the quirky charm of the original puppets or a genuinely funny, sharp script, you may find this more loud than entertaining and more repetitive than suspenseful. That said, the practical gore and a few committed performances do provide some trashy momentum—just know exactly what kind of mean-spirited ride you’re signing up for.