A remake of the cult Troma trash film “The Toxic Avenger,” starring Peter Dinklage, has loudly announced itself in wide release. Why the new film only pretends to be a rebel - in our review.

A humble worker at a toxic waste processing plant, Winston Gooze (Peter Dinklage), after his wife’s death, raises a Gen Z stepson and tries to survive on a meager salary. After a routine doctor’s visit, Winston learns a terrible diagnosis: a brain tumor caused by hazardous working conditions. But there is a cure for the disease, the cost of which could be covered by health insurance. The plant owner, the slimy Bob Garbinger (Kevin Bacon), predictably refuses Winston help, and so he decides to rob the factory. However, everything goes wrong, and the janitor falls into the hands of a rap-core group led by the owner’s younger brother (Elijah Wood). After falling into a vat of waste, Winston transforms into a toxic-green monster with incredible strength and endurance. Armed with a radioactive mop, he begins to mete out his own justice.

The new “The Toxic Avenger” from the director of the absurdist comedy “I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore,” Macon Blair, is almost the same as the original “Toxic” from 1984, yet it bears little resemblance to it. In the original, screenwriter Lloyd Kaufman (politely credited as a producer in the new film) and his comrades let loose completely, never even dreaming that they were making history—anarchic and utterly devoid of conventions. No one anticipated future cult status and sequels; they shot in the moment, challenging the cinematic establishment at every turn.

And the new writing team, which also included Kaufman (again, apparently as a figurehead), apparently had little idea what a truly punk film that disregards conventions, including production ones, should look like. Yes, back then they wrote on their knees, but that knee was mobile, powerful, and muscular—a symbol of pure energy and genuine audacity. Now that brutality is gone, replaced by a sleek, polished pavilion with frequent breaks for cappuccino or lavender latte.

The main, perhaps, success of the new remake can be considered the cast. While the original didn’t shine with big names, the new one positively sparkles with them. Peter Dinklage, playing both the avenger and the single stepfather, is the embodiment of masculinity and tragedy. He so carefully guards his image and looks so soulfully from the screen with sad eyes that when his alter ego appears as a green mutant creature, you want him to take off the makeup. In a more decent form, he would have had a much better chance of saving the film.

Kevin Bacon as the tycoon poisoning local lands with waste is slightly more caricatured than necessary. But his periodic hysterics provoke genuine laughter and smooth over the overall negative impression. Elijah Wood as his younger brother is more reminiscent of a young Mr. Penguin from Tim Burton’s universe. But he desperately wants to resemble Gollum from “The Lord of the Rings” and even utters the sacred phrase: “My precious.” Why? A rhetorical question.

And if director Blair wanted to rely solely on his main stars, he seriously miscalculated. They are not saviors, but merely executors of someone else’s will and, by and large, work for a fee. But they work conscientiously, unlike the film itself, which lurches from social commentary about single-parent families to proletarian anger directed at soulless corporations ruthlessly exploiting workers. And in between, gallons of fake blood are spilled. Just as a reminder that we are, after all, watching something rowdy.

As for humor, there’s only enough for a couple of episodes. Everything that was supposed to be funny on paper fell flat, but small, almost imperceptible gags, like a jackhammer drowning out the doctor’s voice as he tediously reads the diagnosis, immediately hit the mark. At times, it strongly recalled the unforgettable humor of the Zucker brothers—the kings of 80s comedy parodies. And this reference to them worked much more honestly and wittily than the entire promising but failed attempt to reinvent “The Toxic Avenger.”

This is an absolutely smooth and safe remake, which was planned to be rated PG-13, but then they got scared and added severed limbs. It would have been better if it had remained as originally intended. That would have been fairer, because even the joke about radioactive urine doesn’t shock but evokes a feeling of awkwardness, like a carefully planned pretense. “The Toxic Avenger” is a mirage that will dissipate without a trace and be forgotten on the trash heap of history. Probably also toxic.