Norbit 2: Rasputia’s Revenge storms back into theaters with the same unapologetic absurdity that made the original a cult comedy classic. Nearly twenty years later, the film wastes no time reminding audiences that some forces of nature never truly disappear—especially when that force is Rasputia.
Eddie Murphy once again proves his fearless commitment to physical comedy, stepping back into multiple roles with unfiltered energy. As Norbit, he plays a man who has finally grown into his spine, but whose past refuses to let him live quietly. Murphy’s performance leans heavily into contrast—between the timid man Norbit once was and the reluctant hero he’s now forced to become.
Rasputia’s return is nothing short of explosive. Reimagined as a viral reality-TV icon and self-proclaimed wellness mogul, she embodies modern excess taken to cartoonish extremes. Eddie Murphy’s portrayal is intentionally outrageous, pushing satire to its limit while embracing the sheer ridiculousness that defines the character.
Thandiwe Newton’s Kate serves as the emotional anchor of the film. Stronger, sharper, and far less patient than before, she’s no longer just Norbit’s rescue—she’s his equal. Her presence grounds the chaos, giving the story a surprisingly sincere core amid the madness.
The plot, centered around Rasputia’s plan to bulldoze the orphanage for her narcissistic theme park, is delightfully simple. It exists primarily as a launchpad for gags, confrontations, and escalating absurdity. The film never pretends to be subtle, and that honesty becomes part of its charm.
Mr. Wong’s return delivers exactly what fans expect: wildly inappropriate wisdom, relentless insults, and comedic timing that feels ripped straight from the early 2000s. Murphy leans into the discomfort, fully aware that this brand of comedy thrives on exaggeration rather than restraint.
Katt Williams injects rapid-fire energy into every scene he touches, acting as verbal dynamite against Rasputia’s physical dominance. Terry Crews, meanwhile, is perfectly cast as a walking punchline of muscle, bravado, and misplaced confidence, elevating the slapstick with sheer presence alone.
Visually, the film embraces excess. Bright colors, oversized sets, and exaggerated costumes make Boiling Springs feel like a living cartoon. The aesthetic reinforces the film’s refusal to ground itself in realism—this is a world where comedy operates at maximum volume.
What’s surprising is how the film subtly frames Norbit’s journey as one of self-worth. Beneath the fat suits and pratfalls is a story about confronting past trauma and reclaiming agency. It’s not deep—but it’s intentional.
The pacing is relentless, often prioritizing jokes over narrative logic. Some gags hit harder than others, but the sheer volume ensures that laughter is never far away. The film understands its audience and never pauses long enough to apologize.
Norbit 2: Rasputia’s Revenge (2026) doesn’t aim to redefine comedy—it aims to overwhelm it. Loud, ridiculous, and proudly offensive in a throwback way, the film is a reminder that sometimes comedy doesn’t need refinement. Sometimes, it just needs Rasputia… and enough room to run wild.
