Jurassic Park

It might be best if Jurassic World Dominion really is the last one. Franchise life doesn't always need to find a way.

As a result, this approach evokes less the splendor of ‘90s era Jurassic Park than it does the excess of ‘90s summer catastrophes like Wild Wild West or 1998’s Godzilla. At a certain point, you’re left to scratch your head and wonder who the hell it’s even supposed to be for anymore? More so than even the frankly misguided attempt to do a “haunted house” movie in the last Jurassic World picture, this carcass of a summer spectacle has clearly been nibbled to the bone by a thousand studio notes determined to squeeze in undercooked set pieces riffing on every other, better blockbuster out there. The one thing the film has going for it—other than a few practical dinosaur effects and one nifty set piece involving Howard hiding in swamp water—is nostalgia. As Malcolm might say about the film’s cardboard supervillain, this is a movie committed to exploiting these creatures until there is nothing left. It’s an open question whether moments like this were designed by filmmakers to acknowledge to the audience that they realize they’re making a stupid movie, or if the director just let Goldblum improvise. There’s just too much else going on in a movie this bloated for dinos to be anything better than glorified security for the film’s surprise and fan servicing villain. And simply getting half the characters to that location involves some tediously extended patches of nonsense where Pratt does his best mediocre James Bond impression during a chase scene, except with dinosaurs, while Howard escapes a bar that looks like the Mos Eisley Cantina from Star Wars… except with dinosaurs. There are also teases of the apocalyptic side of this development as once hinted at in Michael Crichton’s far more cynical book, such as when a fishing vessel is pulled to the depths by the fearsome mosasaurus. And for the first time since Jurassic World dropped “Park” from the title, the filmmakers are again using delightful animatronics instead of only CGI. It’s a “real” baby triceratops Claire and other characters feel like they can reach out and touch—realizing once again that John Hammond (and thereby Spielbergian) dream. She’s come back to sweet talk grumpy old Dr. Alan Grant (Neill) into leaving his self-imposed exile in the wilderness and help her perform corporate espionage alongside old pal Dr. Ian Malcolm ( Jeff Goldblum). See, she and Malcolm want to get to the bottom of menacing prehistoric locusts, which are being used by a new malevolent corporation mucking in genetic research to seemingly disrupt the global food supply chain. But you’ve already seen these moments in trailers and pricy short films that do more with the concept than the awkward, uneven, and ultimately pointless movie they were promoting. Among the faces are all your personal favorites from any generation of Jurassic. Pratt’s Owen Grady and Howard’s Claire are still playing house with young Maisie (Isabella Sermon) from the last movie.