REVIEW: Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

Let's talk about the current state of Hollywood, shall we? Not in the "surprise, everyone is a sex monster" kind of way, more in the "your profits are eventually going to reflect your lack of effort" kind of way. It's a situation, ironically enough, not dissimilar from the one presented in Jurassic Park; a big corporation bankrolls something stupid and indulgent, "spares no expense", tries to cash in on an entity they don't even begin to understand, and eventually has to suffer the consequences when the whole thing comes tumbling down. Ever since The Avengers proved that audiences were capable of following a shared-universe, multi-film narrative, every big studio under the sun has been trying to replicate that success without stopping for one moment to actually consider what made that success possible in the first place, forgetting that it took ten whole years and nearly 20 movies for the MCU to become what it is today. Modern studios seem to think that building a successful franchise is as simple as slapping a recognizable brand on literally whatever and calling it a day, when it's really far more complex than that. I'll tell you the problem with the cinematic power that they're using here; it didn't require any discipline to attain it. They saw what others had done, and they took the next step. They didn't earn the knowledge for themselves, so they don't take any responsibility for it. They stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as they could, and before they even knew what they had, they patented it and packaged it and shipped it off to theaters, and now they're selling it. They wanna sell it. 

Well... Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom.

Set 3 years after Jurassic World, the film follows the increasingly convoluted adventures of Owen Grady (Chris Pratt) and Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard). After the dormant volcano that Jurassic Park was apparently built on top of begins to erupt, Claire is approached by a mysterious businessman (Rafe Spall), who represents John Hammond's old friend and business partner, Benjamin Lockwood (James Cromwell, as a character we've never heard of up until just now). He proposes that Claire and Owen join a slightly less-than-legal expedition back to Isla Nublar in order to save what dinosaurs they can before the entire thing goes up in smoke (literally this time). Although reluctant to go at first, Owen decides to tag along in order to rescue Blue the velociraptor from certain doom; their reunion is short-lived, however, as it's revealed that the supposed rescue mission was actually a front for far seedier activities. With the island destroyed, it's up to Owen, Claire, and a group of side-characters (who are somehow more bland than our already impressively-bland protagonists) to save the dinosaurs from Rafe Spall's immoral business dealings, all while avoiding the jaws of Henry Wu's (B.D. Wong) latest genetically-altered murdersaur, the Indoraptor.

The first and most strikingly bad thing about this movie, I think, is the script. Jurassic World was nothing revolutionary, but it did its job; it was cool finally seeing the park open and we got one of the most blissfully absurd climaxes I'd ever seen in a big-budget action movie. I left the theater more or less happy, if not exactly impressed. This, however, is just painfully bad. You get the impression that everything's been dumbed down even moreso, as though this movie has no pretense that it's just something meant to sell toys to children. The characters are one-note, the leaps in logic are downright olympian, and the story truly spares no expense in outright disregarding the recurrent themes and lessons presented in literally every previous Jurassic film. I'm not going to pretend that any of these movies were exactly head-scratchers, but they at least posed an interesting question about the potential ramifications of tampering with genetic power. One of the best scenes in the original film involves everyone simply eating dinner while debating whether or not a dinosaur theme park is an ethical idea in the first place. It's a multifaceted issue; for all of Ian Malcolm's moralizing, even he is stricken with a sense of childlike awe and excitement upon seeing a live dinosaur for the first time. And despite John Hammond's fatal shortsightedness, he's never portrayed as a "bad" guy; we completely understand why he would want to open Jurassic Park, even while understanding why it's a bad idea to do so. In Fallen Kingdom, the entire point of the movie basically boils down to "yeah yeah tampering in God's domain is immoral and junk, but wouldn't it be sad if da dinosauws died? :,(".

This is essentially Bryce Dallas Howard's entire arc in this movie; I guess the controversy her character stirred up last time around scared the studio execs bad enough that they'd rather she do basically nothing at all from this point on. In Jurassic World, her character progressed from a cold, profit-oriented businesswoman to someone who was prepared to take responsibility for the abomination she was complicit in creating. In Fallen Kingdom, she's essentially just an affluent white lady who wants to save the animals because it's sad when animals die; well-done, moral guardians, another victory for the rights of fictional women. We also have Chris Pratt at possibly his most boring. Owen, as a character (though I hesitate to even call it that), doesn't really have much of a personality, something Chris Pratt possesses a "deplorable excess" of. I know this is basically a carry-over from a few years ago, when Guardians of the Galaxy made more money than anyone could have possibly predicted and Chris Pratt was forcibly inserted into everything and anything, but taking a man who's been described as the human equivalent of a golden retriever and casting him as a straight-laced, rough and tumble, military manly man just doesn't work (and I can't imagine why anyone might think it would). His performance comes off like an audition tape for a store-brand version of Indiana Jones and it's honestly impressive how this movie manages to capture exactly none of Chris Pratt's natural charm or charisma. The only actor who's properly utilized throughout the whole thing is Jeff Goldblum, returning for a few minutes as Dr. Ian Malcolm to explain why the entire plot to the movie is a generally bad idea. Out of all the characters we're shown, his is the only one that makes a lick of sense. He's the true hero of this movie (which makes sense, seeing as how this is essentially a soft-reboot of The Lost World), even though he shows up, reads his lines, and leaves in less time than it takes for me to eat a Wawa sandwich.

Aside from the miserable script (which includes such gems as "It needs a mother!" and "What a nasty woman...") and the flat, incompetent characters, the film's pacing is also all over the place. It definitely falls into your traditional three-act structure, but still finds a way to divide its story directly down the middle. It's essentially two hour-long movies mashed together, making the entire thing feel even more like a pilot for a children's cartoon series. The situation isn't helped by the over-complicated mess of a plot; I excused some of the sillier bits in Jurassic World because I was just happy to see this franchise return from extinction, but the levels of outright stupidity Fallen Kingdom achieves feel like attempts to take advantage of my good nature. Jurassic Park is a premise that, like most metaphor-driven narratives, works best when there's as little fat to trim as possible. There's a theme park full of dinosaurs; the power gets shut off due to industrial espionage, nature runs amok, don't play God, life finds a way. Simple and clean. Then you have Fallen Kingdom, in which an evil businessman needs a team of mercenaries to save a velociraptor from an exploding island so that it can teach his weaponized super-dinosaur how to feel empathy, only for said super-dinosaur to run amok inside a Scooby-Doo mystery mansion, and also conservation is important or whatever. I get the impression that the people behind these movies have no idea why Jurassic Park is as good as it is beyond "WOAH COOL DINOSAURS".

To be perfectly fair, however, none of this is the fault of the director, J.A. Bayona. In fact, I'd say that the direction is one of the few things in this movie that I unironically liked; hell, I loved it. Bayona is, first and foremost, a horror director (having directed films like The Orphanage), so he's able to bring his own, unique style to the table (rather than just attempting to ape Spielberg like so many before him). The opening sequence in particular is unironically excellent, one of the best scenes in any Jurassic movie (if you can ignore them moving the mosasaur lagoon from the center of the island to the shoreline for plot reasons). There's a great amount of emphasis placed on the use of color and lighting, helping this corporate-designed product feel a little bit more like an actual film, rather than something meant to sell baby raptor toys to all the kids in the audience. For as schlocky as it is, the climax (in which the film essentially becomes a gothic monster movie) is actually a pretty fun time, thanks entirely to Bayona's fresh perspective. The action, while not exactly deep or emotionally engaging, is well-shot and exciting, which definitely kept me from outright hating this movie. I'm all but convinced by this point that Colin Trevorrow is responsible for everything wrong with Jurassic World, as he's relegated to script duty for this one and, as I've covered, that's where all of the film's problems occur. If there's one thing the executives at Universal should take away from this experience, it's the benefit that having a fresh face in the director's chair can bring to a project. With how well Fallen Kingdom is doing financially, a sequel is inevitable, and I truly hope that Bayona gets another shot at bat (hopefully to make something less inane than what we have here).

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is an easy lock for the stupidest thing I'm going to see in theaters in 2018. Normally, I'll be the first to champion the use of suspension of disbelief (especially in a summer blockbuster about genetically-altered dinosaurs), but even I have my limits. Much like with Disney's handling of Star Wars, the pendulum has swung way too far and now things are getting out of hand; the studios were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn't stop to think if they should. When it comes to these modern mega-blockbusters, the goal is no longer to make an enjoyable, accessible film, so much as it is to replicate the financial success of the first Jurassic World and break $1 billion at the box office.  In order to make a sustainable franchise, it's important that the product itself is more or less something of quality; this is why, after an entire decade of Marvel movies, everyone who saw Infinity War is excited and eager for what comes next. Meanwhile, you have Star Wars, which has had exclusively mediocre to outright bad movies since The Force Awakens and, surprise, now has to be completely reevaluated only three short years after they got the ball rolling. It'll happen to Jurassic World as well; they'll make their money now, but they're only postponing the inevitably embarrassing crash-and-burn that awaits all franchises tackled in this manner. Jurassic World made a ton of money, and Fallen Kingdom appears to be on the same track. But at the end of the day (and after adjusting for inflation), the original Jurassic Park is still the top dog of the franchise, both critically and financially. That kind of success is well within Universal's reach, they simply need expend the effort needed to seize it. And as we've learned time and time again, sloppy work in the name of maximizing profit only leads to catastrophic failure.

If you don't mind spoilers, be sure to check out my full plot-rundown on YouTube!

REVIEW: Jurassic School

I often find that the lower a movie's budget, the tougher it can be to make fun of it. Cost doesn't necessarily equate to effort, and there are plenty of films (like Roger Corman's Fantastic Four) that make up for their clear lack in technical prowess with sheer gumption and effort. A lot of the time, lack of funding ends up being a very real roadblock for a lot of smaller films, causing problems and setbacks that obscure all but the faintest glimmer of potential. And then you have movies like Jurassic School, a boring amateurish slog from the fine folks at The Asylum. I've made it known how little patience I have for children's films that don't bother putting in any effort because "it's for kids", and this is no exception.

As with most films from The Asylum, the plot pays legally distinct homage to (ie: rips off) more iconic, financially successful films; in this case E.T. and Jurassic Park. I'm not exactly sure why the writer chose films that are a good couple of decades old to market this schlock to oblivious kids and well-meaning grandparents alike, but I've got a theory. I feel like they were trying to muscle in on some of that sweet, sweet Jurassic World money, but only had a community college campus and a single gross, misshapen dinosaur puppet to work with. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

What could loosely be called the plot follows a boy named Tommy (Gabriel Bennett), a child prodigy and dinosaur fanatic. His hobbies include dabbing goo on ostrich eggs and mumbling out his lines like a pint-sized Tommy Wiseau. Seriously, there's so many botched line reads in this movie that I can only assume the words "take two" were never uttered on set. As he explains though his prolonged techno-babble monologue, Tommy has figured out a way to insert dinosaur DNA into an ostrich egg. Where this kid got dinosaur DNA (or an ostrich egg, for that matter) is left up to the imagination. We get to watch people wordlessly unload ferns from the back of a truck for about two uninterrupted minutes, but learning how a young boy acquired the blood of an extinct reptile just isn't interesting enough to warrant any screentime.

After placing the egg in his dino-making machine (represented by a laptop sat next to a plastic marble maze, because the filmmakers needed a fun visual, but not one that would break the bank), Tommy is shocked (as are we all) to discover that his experiment actually worked. A twelve year old boy has successfully tampered in God's domain and the result is... a dinosaur. It has a proper Latin name, but damned if I can be bothered to remember it. The newly-hatched abomination then laps up a beaker full of growth hormone and quadruples in size, changing from a CGI representation of what would happen if your budgerigar melted in the microwave to an offputting analog puppet. The puppet has no torso or legs, because that would be too expensive. It also isn't allowed to appear anywhere but "mostly offscreen", because properly framing your special effect is just too much work.

I need to take a minute to explain just how much I hated this creature (given the oh-so-original moniker of "Spike" by its master). It's clear that the filmmakers didn't have a whole lot to work with, but did they have to make the cutesy mascot of this film look so unsettling? Even on the box art (which is an entire discussion on its own), it looks like a sassy, irradiated chicken embryo. The cast does their best to emote and interact with this hideous little mistake, but its gaping, lopsided jaw and heavily-lidded, glassy eyes give off the impression that there's nothing going on inside its head. Nothing aside from some poor puppeteer's forearm, that is; the neck is so turgid and inarticulated, it's never not obvious that there's a grown man (or woman) just out of frame, crouched on their hands and knees operating this thing while the voice actor mewls and moans like a deaf cat. I haven't seen such an off-putting E.T. clone since Mac & Me, and at least that has the scene with the wheelchair kid and the cliff.

I also want to talk about the framing in this movie. Everything is shot like it's about to turn into weird, niche porn at any second (though I suppose that's not too surprising, given The Asylum's credentials). There's tons of awkward, empty wide shots and pointless, claustrophobic close-ups, not to mention those distracting half-cuts used to trim the runtime down. I could forgive a lack of budget and poor special effects. I can even overlook bad child actors. But the way this movie is shot inspires a distinct lack of technical ability to top it all off. That combined with the borderline plagiarized plot makes this nigh-indefensible. It's such an obvious cash-grab meant to sucker in people who don't know any better at the checkout line or the bargain bin. And do you know what the worst thing about this movie is? It's boring. It's not even "so bad it's good", it's just dull and uneventful. The kid makes a dinosaur for some kind of competition and doesn't tell anyone (despite this being the scientific find of the century). Then nothing happens until the dinosaur is captured by a scummy businessman. There's an extended chase sequence through a college library that's exactly as exciting as it sounds. The kid rescues the dinosaur, it dies, then it gets better. Roll credits. There's so little value here, I can't even recommend this one ironically. It's just bad.

Jurassic School is the worst kind of movie. In that it's soulless, and not even in a fun kind of way. There are bad movies, awful movies, that have more value as this, both as a piece of art and a piece of entertainment. Movies like The Room and Birdemic and Samurai Cop are worth intrinsically more than stuff like this; they've got more charm, more effort, and more entertainment value. "You're tearing me apart, Lisa" will echo in the halls of eternity; what of Jurassic School? What was the point, the inspiration, the goal? I guarantee not a single actor here (aside from maybe some of the kids) wanted to be involved in this, and it shows. I try to live my life by the idea that there are no truly bad experiences; you either have a good time, or a good story. Like the death of a loved one, Jurassic School is one of those tragic exceptions to that mindset. This is one of the things I'll regret when I'm on my deathbed, willing to pay any price for 80 more measly minutes on this mortal plain. I didn't like it.

REVIEW: The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas

I like to think that keeping up with this blog has exposed me to a varied assortment of films; really, that was the point of this entire thing, to expand my cinematic horizons a little. Out of everything I've watched, I can say with no hesitation that the most painful experiences are always products of the "we have the license and need to make money" school of filmmaking. Movies like Heavenly Sword or Jem and the Holograms; projects born in a board room for the express purpose of cashing in on the recognizability of an established brand. It doesn't matter if the world needs a new Ghostbusters or a new Point Break, the important thing is that people recognize the brand and will invariably spend money on it. In the eyes of the studio, a familiar face is all that is needed to lure the consumer into that showing of Yogi Bear like so many ignorant sheep to the slaughter. 

After the first Flintstones movie did inexplicably well at the box office despite getting mercilessly trashed by critics, Universal Studios (referred to in the opening graphic as "UniverSHELL", so as to prepare the audience for the veritable bukkakke of puns this film has in store for them) saw fit to unleash a prequel unto the world over half a decade later. With nearly twice the budget of the original and none of the cast returning (aside from archived audio of Mel Blanc and mandatory cameos by the late William Hanna and Joseph Barberra), it's no surprise that The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas tanked financially as well as critically. When one of the only positive features of your movie is John Goodman (let's be honest here, playing the role he was born to play) you don't replace him with Mark Addy.

That's right, Game of Thrones fans. In this movie, Fred Flintstone is played by Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I honestly don't know what I find funnier, this casting choice or the fact that he honestly does a pretty solid job. The film finds him and Barney (once played by Rick Moranis, now portrayed by Stephen Baldwin in what may be the ultimate downgrade) as young bachelors living together in a time before married life, Fruity Pebbles, and John Cena. A cloying CG alien known as The Great Gazoo (Alan Cumming, as seen in all your future nightmares) has been sent to Earth to observe the mating rituals of humans, and Fred and Barney just happen to fit the bill. So yes, this is a movie where Alan Cumming has to watch the Flintstones mate with each other.

Aside from that horrifying prospect, the film follows Fred and Barney as they meet their future spouses, Wilma and Betty (Kristen Johnston and 30 Rock's Jane Krakowski), and go on a luxury vacation to the glamorous city of Rock Vegas. Despite the film's name, they only make it to the titular city halfway through the runtime. It's essentially as if the first Star Wars was called Luke Skywalker's Adventures on Tatooine. The whole time, a pretty-boy casino magnate by the name of Chip Rockefeller (Thomas Gibson) attempts to ruin Fred's lovelife so he can marry Wilma and use her family fortune to pay off his debts to the mafia. As one can tell, this is clearly a dense plot designed only for the most astute and discerning of moviegoers.

I honestly can't envision life on the set of this production. There can't be a single person involved with this picture who actually believed in it. I refuse the notion that a single person walked onto the set of the live-action Flintstones prequel and felt any modicum of pride in their work, as though they were making a grand contribution to the annals of film history. The plot is as predictable as they come, the script is 80% rock puns, and the humor fluctuates from groan-inducing to outright uncomfortable. Less than five minutes in we get a scene in which a cartoon dinosaur farts on several people and there's more than one reference to Barney Rubble's sex life. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I don't want to envision Barney Rubble having sex with anything; his trademark dopey laugh is the stuff barren wombs are made of. I know it's the new millennium and you need to put something in your children's movie for the grown-ups to laugh at, but the mental image of Stephen Baldwin getting laid on a first date (presumably uttering rock puns and eating stolen Cocoa Pebbles while doing so) is not a pleasant one.

I wish I could find a positive here, some sort of compliment to the cast, but I'm really just drawing a blank. Mark Addy is a passable Fred Flintstone and Jane Krakowski at least appears to be trying (despite every moment she's on screen looking like a 30 Rock flashback to the time Jenna Malone starred in a Flintstones movie), but everyone here is so utterly unenthused. Alan Cumming's Gazoo is just as annoying and unnecessary here as he was in the original cartoon and Kristen Johnston appears as thrilled as if she'd just been set up on a blind date with a spoiled tuna sandwich. I suppose I can give some degree of credit to the set design? There's nothing in the real world that really resembles anything on The Flintstones, so everything had to be made from scratch. It's pretty garish and it doesn't really look that great in real life, but that's more a criticism of the art style than of the people that had to put it all together. To be perfectly honest, the only thing about this movie I can say I unabashedly love is this surprisingly applicable gif:

The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas. It's bad, but then honestly, what were you expecting? Something good? Something clever, or intelligent in any way? We're talking about a live-action prequel of a live-action adaptation of a cheaply-made cartoon from the 60's that was really nothing more than a blatant rip-off of The Honeymooners, but with more rock puns and sarcastic animals. I try to judge films, not by comparing them to one another, but on whether or not a film accomplishes what it sets out to do. The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas wasn't trying to be a well-made movie. It wasn't trying to be witty, or memorable, or charming. All it tried to do was make its money back, and it couldn't even do that. It's not funny, it's not enjoyable, and worst of all, it's not profitable. It's a failure in every sense of the word. But by the same token, I'm never going to get that 91 minutes of my life back, so I suppose I'm the real failure here.

REVIEW: The Good Dinosaur

Despite the concept of a Pixar film about dinosaurs being a literal childhood dream come true, The Good Dinosaur ended up being one of the more low-profile releases of last year. Following the monumental success of Inside Out is hardly an easy position to be in, especially when it found itself sandwiched between the final installment of The Hunger Games and the yearly onslaught of holiday fodder. Wholly under-promoted following a troubled production, the film made lackluster numbers at the box office and disappeared quietly back into Inside Out's shadow. In my opinion, a fate undeserved; while The Good Dinosaur is hardly Pixar's strongest feature, I feel as though it is easily one of the studio's most visually impressive (and possibly most daring) films to date.

The setup is delivered within the opening moments of the film; what if the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs... missed? Rather than face extinction, the terrible thunder-lizards continued to evolve and develop in a similar fashion to early man, forming farming communities and cultivating the land to suit their needs for survival. Our story focuses on Arlo (Raymond Ochoa), the cowardly runt of a family of apatosaurs who grow crops on their meager homestead. After an accident concerning a feral caveboy (Jack Bright) sends Arlo floating downriver, he's forced to join forces with the troublesome critter in order to survive. Dubbing the neanderthal "Spot", the two try to make their way home, all while facing that eternally merciless gauntlet which is Mother Nature.

Right off the bat, detractors will point out how this plot is similar to so many Pixar films which came before it. Toy Story, Toy Story 2, Finding Nemo, and even Inside Out, released the same year as The Good Dinosaur, all focus on an unlikely pair or group trying to find their way back to where they belong. It's reasonable to say that it's a formula for the folks at Pixar by this point, though I see no real issue with continuing the trend so long as they continue to make it work as consistently well as they're able to. "Road trip" is a fairly broad label to apply to such a number of films; there is a journey involved, yes, but the actual adventure takes a backseat to the emotions at play. This is a film about loss, forgiveness, acceptance, and overcoming one's fears. Above all, this is a film about a boy and his dog (even though the dog in this case is a human being).

Make no mistake; while The Good Dinosaur doesn't quite reach "Toy Story 3 incinerator scene" levels of dire, this is a strong contender for Pixar's heaviest film to date. Our adorable protagonists are constantly battered and bruised and death is a ever-present danger out in the wild. While nature itself is the primary antagonist at play here, there are still a number of unseemly characters introduced who have absolutely no qualms about attempting to murder and/or devour Arlo and Spot. While I enjoyed the backwoods charm of the cabal of cattle-rustling velociraptors, I must call particular attention to the band of fanatical pteranadons led by Steve Zahn, channeling a legitimately threatening mix between a cult leader and a serial killer.

I found the tone of the film to be heavily reminiscent of the works of Don Bluth; while there are moments of very well-executed comedy and whimsy, this is very much a film that takes itself seriously for the most part. Despite the cartoony design of the cast, the near-photorealistic environments give everything a heightened sense of grit. Arlo is soft and thoroughly huggable, but when he bruises himself after slamming into a rock, we are able to feel the impact. This is a world which has genuine weight to it in every sense of the word. I honestly cannot gush enough about what a feast for the eyes this movie is. We live in an age where CGI films are commonplace; it feels as though a computer-animated feature can't be considered impressive anymore unless it manages to think outside the box in regards to its aesthetic, such as with The LEGO Movie. This is a film that, instead of using the technology available in a new and interesting way, simply generates some of the most stunningly gorgeous visuals I've ever seen in a film of this kind. I'm not sure if I've ever let out an audible gasp in response to a shot of running water before, but The Good Dinosaur might just be the prime example from this point on.

As I mentioned, Steve Zahn is wonderfully intimidating as Thunderclap the pteradactyl, and I really enjoyed Raymond Ochoa as Arlo. It's a role that very easily could have been grating and irritating had the wrong voice been cast, so it's a good thing to note that our primary protagonist is endearing until the end. The highlights by far, however, had to be Jeffery Wright as Henry, Arlo's father, and Sam Elliot as Butch, a raspy tyrannosaurus patriarch who ranches longhorns. Both exude grizzled, distinctly paternal wisdom with every line, really helping to seal the country-fied tone the film has going for it. As dark as things get, this is a film rife with feel-good moments of growth and responsibility, like a southern coming-of-age novel that happens to star talking dinosaurs.

All in all, I find The Good Dinosaur to be one of Pixar's most underrated works of all time. Though the plot tends to meander and not all children may be endeared to its rough, emotionally-heavy tone, I found it to be a rewarding experience all the same. It has its flaws, but it also represents significant risks taken by a studio that could easily live comfortably off of lackluster Cars sequels until the heat-death of the universe. While it's not perfect, I feel as though the risks taken in terms of story and tone paid off, resulting in a powerful, heartfelt, and visually gorgeous film. It's hardly destined to be anyone's favorite Pixar movie, but I strongly believe that, despite all the production issues and meager box office earnings, The Good Dinosaur is most definitely a good film.

REVIEW: Jurassic World

It's no surprise to anyone who knows me that Jurassic World was easily one of my most anticipated movies of 2015. As excited as I was, I did my best to keep my expectations in check; the Jurassic Park franchise isn't exactly famous for the quality of its sequels and even The Phantom Menace had a promising advertising campaign. As excited as I was to return to Isla Nublar, I was well aware that this could easily turn out to be yet another terrible, mindless excuse to have a bunch of dinosaurs fight and eat people. I sat in my seat, the house lights dimmed, and I didn't stop smiling for the entire two hour runtime. At long last, we are given a film worthy of being considered a follow-up to Jurassic Park.

The film opens with brothers Zach and Gray (Nick Robinson and Ty Simpkins) being sent off to the titular theme park to visit their aunt Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) while their parents work out a divorce back home. In the 22 years since the original Isla Nublar incident, John Hammond has died and his company has fallen under the control of one Simon Masrani (Irrfan Khan, who is a naive delight); Masrani has managed to fulfill Hammond's original vision of opening a functioning dinosaur theme park to delight children of all ages. The park has thrived since the early 2000's, supporting crowds of over twenty-thousand people a day. While it was astounding at first, the novelty of Jurassic World has begun to wear off; a new attraction is needed to increase park attendance. Enter the Indominus Rex, a genetic hybrid of a good dozen different dinosaurs and animals, designed to be the nastiest, scariest thing on the island by a country mile. As the park's operations manager, Claire brings in Owen Grady (a scruffy raptor-tamer played by Chris Pratt) to inspect the monster's paddock. As one would expect, karma befalls those who tinker in God's domain and the beast escapes during the inspection, wreaking unimaginable havok on the island full of families and tourists.

Story-wise, it's the next logical step for the Jurassic Park franchise, as well as a not-so-subtle metaphor for the moviegoing public; over the years, we've become so accustomed to seeing revolutionary special effects in summer blockbusters that studios feel the need to indulge in mindless excess without putting any thought into their product. While I appreciate this message, I find it a bit ironic that Jurassic World, of all things, is the movie presenting this metaphor. This is the biggest, most bombastic Park movie yet. We have dinosaurs eating people, dinosaurs eating each other, dinosaurs fighting each other AND people at the same time, dinosaurs teaming up to eat people and THEN fight other dinosaurs; if it wasn't so well-paced, it would honestly be totally overwhelming. I feel as though I should mention, this movie does go to some out-there places. If you can accept a theme park full of genetically cloned dinosaurs born from DNA found in fossilized mosquitoes, you should be able to accept everything else that happens in this film, but it definitely toes the line of straight-up silliness. A good litmus test can be found hanging on the wall of your local theater; if you can look at the poster of Chris Pratt riding a motorcycle alongside his gaggle of raptor pals and still feel unironic excitement for this movie, then everything will work out swimmingly for you. If not, then I'd suggest you temper your expectations. I personally loved it; that said, I can totally understand someone thinking this is the goofiest movie of the year.

The movie has all the elements of a total schlock-fest; whether or not they're visible depends on the mindset of the viewer. If you're looking to see a bunch of cool-looking dinosaurs tear each other apart amidst the backdrop of a tropical theme park, you're going to get just that. If you're looking for suspense and thematic elements like those found in the first movie, you'll find those as well. However, the two elements don't blend quite as well as in the original feature. There's interesting commentary on themes such as isolation, genetically-modified organisms, paramilitary organizations, maternal instincts, pack mentalities, and animal rights, but none of this subtext is really present during the action. If there's something interesting happening with the characters, there's a good chance there's no dino-carnage happening onscreen (and vise-versa). 

The most interesting facet of the film was easily the Indominus Rex; we see it hatch in the beginning of the film, twitchy and terrified, as if it knows within a second of being alive that it's an abomination. The staff of Jurassic World proceed to keep their new attraction under-wraps, raising it in total seclusion until it is fully-grown. The way that the filmmakers accomplish in making this thing legitimately terrifying is probably the film's greatest strength; before we even get a good look at it, we get to watch Owen's incredulous assessment of its environment. It's spent its entire life alone, the only other living things its come in contact with are its sibling (which it apparently ate) and its feeders (who have long since been replaced with a meat-laden crane). It's a powerful, intelligent beast that has been alone literally its entire life; an outcast from nature itself who suddenly escapes into an island full of creatures who are not only fundamentally different, but objectively weaker to boot. As silly as it may sound on paper, you really get the feeling that this thing is insane; it's huge, powerful, and unpredictable, which makes for a truly terrifying combo. One of the key aspects of any kind of monster flick is ensuring that the threat is legitimate without dumbing down the protagonists; while the film ticks the first box with aplomb, it's the second part that gives us some trouble. The thing that made the first Jurassic Park so good is that the actions of the protagonists felt natural; any stupid mistake they made could be easily explained in the context of their situation. Here, the people trying to contain this rampaging Murdersaurus (including the Asset Containment Unit, led by Vic Hoskins, played by Vincent D'Onofrio) are just a little bit too incompetent to come off as totally believable.

The cast all play their parts well, but there isn't really a standout among them. Howard and Pratt make for good protagonists, Irrfan Khan is delightful as Masrani, Robinson and Simpkins aren't horribly annoying, but I'd be surprised if anyone here was remembered exclusively for their role in this movie. The closest thing to human standouts would probably be Lauren Lapkus and Jake Johnson, playing Jurassic World employees who operate the park's massive command center. They've got great chemistry and their scenes are some of the most enjoyable in the movie. Vincent D'Onofrio is fine as the brash, ignorant Hoskins, even though he falls into the same old stock "military guy who wants to harness the power of thing" stereotype. B.D. Wong returns as geneticist Henry Wu, playing the character as much more of an egotistical schemer than before. Honestly, the majority of the cast is comprised of flat characters. Sure, Chris Pratt's Owen is cool and enjoyable to watch, but he's completely static throughout. The only characters with anything close to an arc are Claire and Zach (the latter of whom doesn't have nearly enough screentime to explore his development from angsty teen to caring older brother); no one is particularly bad, but no one is particularly amazing either. However, I can only apply that to the human element of the cast; my favorite characters by far came in the form of Blue, Charlie, Delta, and Echo, the four velociraptors whom Chris Pratt is attempting to train. Before this film, the velociraptors were the snarling, scheming slasher villains to the T-Rex's lumbering brute; here, they're somewhat domesticated without completely losing their teeth. Their relationship with Owen is one of the best parts of this movie; by the end of it all, you really feel for the raptors as animals, rather than just as the shrieking predators they usually portray. This particular example highlights what I find to be Jurassic World's greatest strength; it's something new. It works off of the elements presented by the previous films and gives us something fun and original, made with care and reverence for that original groundwork. In a world of cynical cash-grabs, Jurassic World is anything but.

I found Jurassic World to be a rollicking good time from beginning to end. It indulged my inner-child without devolving into an uninspired exploitation of nostalgia, a very easy pitfall for a film like this to fall into. While it can get a little ridiculous at times, it still maintains a certain level of substance that I feel keeps this movie from becoming yet another insipid summer blockbuster. It's not as good as Jurassic Park, but it's certainly a worthy follow-up in addition to just being loads of fun. If you've got the time, hit up your local cinema and take a trip back to Isla Nublar, preferably with a good, receptive audience.

REVIEW: Jurassic Park

I hesitate to call this a review, since I feel like everyone on the planet should know by now that Jurassic Park is a masterpiece. It's by no means flawless, but it's easily earned its place in cinematic history as an innovative film that captured the imaginations of all who witness it. Seeing as how Jurassic World is just on the horizon, it felt appropriate to revisit the movie that started it all, investigating just what makes this 1993 classic so gosh-darn memorable.

Based off of the novel by Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park involves a team of scientists assembled by charismatic businessman John Hammond (Richard Attenborough); at the behest of his investors, Hammond flies Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill), Dr. Ellie Sattler (Laura Dern), and Dr. Ian Malcom (Jeff Goldblum) out to Isla Nublar, a small island off the coast of Costa Rica. There, Hammond has constructed his magnum opus, a biological preserve/theme park packed to the gills with genetically resurrected dinosaurs. Along for the soft opening are Hammond's grandchildren, Lex and Tim Murphy (Ariana Richards and Joseph Mazzello), as well as Donald Gennaro (Martin Ferrero), a lawyer representing Hammond's worried investors. Once the tour vehicles embark on their maiden voyage, the island is rocked by a tropical storm; during the deluge, the security measures are deactivated by the park's systems architect, Dennis Nedry (Wayne Knight). While Nedry attempts to escape the island with stolen dinosaur embryos, the various prehistoric residents of Isla Nublar escape their enclosures and begin to run amok.

Rounding out the supporting cast, we've got Bob Peck as Robert Muldoon, the park's game warden and Samuel L. Jackson as Ray Arnold, the head engineer. The entire cast gives stellar performances, bolstered by a strong script; their interactions all feel natural and relateable, a quality that is mandatory for any kind of horror or disaster film to succeed. It allows the audience to put themselves in the shoes of the cast with minimal effort, helping the threat feel all that more real. As each character is introduced, we learn immediately who they are within just a few minutes; we learn about Dr. Grant's profession, his personality, his incompatibility with technology (and children), and his theories on the evolutionary trends of dinosaurs all within his first scene. It establishes important details about his character and builds the foundation that his arc will be built upon as the film progresses. While not every character gets an arc (Samuel L. Jackson doesn't have much to do aside from smoke and struggle with the computers), they all feel wholly natural; even when it comes to the most expressive characters (Jeff Goldblum, the kids, Nedry), no one feels like a cartoon character. It's a very organic-feeling film, which is something that not a lot of action movies these days can get a handle on, whether it be through substance or visuals.

It's no revelation that Jurassic Park was one of the biggest innovators in the field of visual effects when it was released in 1993; I hesitate to word it like that, since it makes it sound like the effects aren't still impressive to this day. And that is simply not true. This is a gorgeous film in every sense of the word; from the verdant locales to Stan Winston's jaw-dropping dinosaurs, everything in this movie grabs your attention with just how good it looks (except maybe for the JP staff's pink polo/khaki shorts/tube socks combo). It's a near-seamless blend of CGI and practical effects, breathing life into dinosaurs that actually look like real, living things. There always seems to be a debate as to which method of effect is better, but I feel this film is proof that the best results are accomplished with appropriate amounts of both. At the end of the day, special effects, be they practical or computer-generated, are merely tools meant to tell a story. Jurassic Park would be the same movie at its core if you replaced the dinosaurs with, say, mutated koala bears. Sure, the visuals have changed drastically, but the themes of attempting to assert control over nature and the folly of man's ambition are still as prevalent as ever. Throughout the course of the film, the only characters to die are the ones who, up until the very end, try to maintain control over the chaos of the natural world. It's a reminder that there are some things in life that just can't be molded to suit the needs and desires of the individual; no matter how much power, intelligence, or technology man may possess, the absolutes of nature will be ever present until the end of time.

Even with all that said, I cannot help but personally relate to John Hammond every time I watch this movie; one of the best scenes in the film delves into his backstory and how he created Jurassic Park with only the purest intentions. He wasn't in this for the money, but rather to present the world with something tangible and amazing, to capture the imaginations of children and adults from all walks of life. Hammond is a mad doctor who isn't burdened with a lust for power, but rather a desire to explore that which is unexplored, bringing back something amazing and humbling from his proverbial journey. Even after things begin to go wrong, he immediately starts telling Dr. Sattler about how things will work better the next time; it's clear that he's in the wrong, since no matter how he tries to enact his grand vision for Jurassic Park, the idea will be fundamentally flawed from the get-go. One cannot force order into a system of chaos. However, despite all that, I find myself identifying with him every time. Each time the credits roll, I think "but I would do it better, I wouldn't make those mistakes". It's a summer blockbuster that raises interesting questions about the nature of man and the various responsibilities we have as the dominant species on the planet, in addition to the moral quandaries that can arise when one considers what should be done with the power that we have access to (especially when it can be so tempting to wield that power, in the words of Ian Malcom, "like a kid that's found his dad's gun").

Jurassic Park is and always will be my favorite movie of all time. It grabbed my attention as a dinosaur-obsessed child and started me on the road to becoming the cinephile I am today. More than just your standard summer blockbuster, Jurassic Park offers something interesting to contemplate or investigate in literally every aspect it presents, from the characters, to the special effects, to the philosophy behind it all. In the highly unlikely event that you haven't seen this movie yet, stop reading this review and remedy that situation right away.