It's Alive VII: Island of the Alive
As if anything could actually kill the franchise-- comes Jurassic World: Rebirth, and this time it's all dressed up in basic retro: reuse, refurbish, reboot.
New characters, same strategy: bunch of people on island, well equipped well organized; things go pearshaped, and what used to be a mission (fact-finding, creature-hunting) is now an escape drama, the survivors doing best with what they got, mainly wits and guts ready to spill at moment's notice.
That's not a diss, mind; something to be said about doing that's been done before, only doing it well with integrity and maybe some spin for freshness. We have a team of mercenaries lead by an underhanded corporate executive-- yes he's a trope but in this day and age can you believe they're anything but?-- and a hapless family (Latinex this time round) along for the ride. The two groups are separated, the vulnerable one exposed to traditional threats (mud slides; Velociraptors; Dilophosaurus; T-Rex) while the veterans continue their quest to obtain DNA samples and face more esoteric menaces (Spinosaurus, Quetzalcoatlus). The two groups later reunite to confront the island's special collection of mutated creatures (Mutadons; D-Rex), specially saved up for the big finale.
Helps to have David Koepp back-- he who wrote the first two chapters, trimming back Michael Crichton's clunky scientific exposition and enlivening the characters, fashioning a functional structure inspired by Howard Hawks' Hatari! for the latter. The Lost World is easily my favorite of the franchise, as Koepp ditches the aw shucks sense of wonder of the first picture, makes Jeff Goldblum's Ian Malcolm the cynical scientifically prescient doomsayer of the latter, and allows Spielberg-- condemned to be more family oriented and paternally nurturing, especially of the kids in the audience-- to focus on the kind of amoral tonally cruel Rube Goldberg suspense setpieces that recall his best work in Jaws.
Been downhill since, though I did like William Macy's sadsack hustler businessman in Jurassic lll. At least with this latest Koepp makes an effort to humanize the dino fodder-- expedition leader Zora (Scarlett Johansson) is a mercenary; scientific consultant Dr. Loomis (Jonathan Bailey) a nerd with the most terrifying manner of chewing Altoids; ship Cap'n Kincaid (Mahershala Ali) a melancholy figure estranged from his wife. Daddy Reuben (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) struggles to accept lazy Xavier (David Iacono) as his possible future son-in-law (yikes), while Bella (Audrina Miranda) adopts a small dino for a pet (which they're sneaking past customs-- how, exactly?).
Helps to have Gareth Edwards, yet another veteran creature feature maker (Godzilla, anyone?), who manages to channel moments even minutes of Spielberg's original magic (I'd call the Mosasaurus hunt the best tribute/remake of Spielberg's Jaws to date) and who manages to conjure memorable images of his own (Zora hanging upside down over the Mosasaurus' gigantic topaz-pearl eye; Cap'n Kincaid wading into a swamp, lit flare in one hand illuminating in strangely lovely ruby glow the massive D-Rex stalking him).
Not the best of the lot (see above) but not the worst (see previous three movies); not even the best of Edwards, who in the aforementioned Godzilla, Rogue One, and The Creator was a far better storyteller. And for all its megasized production values and high wattage star power it isn't half as fun and fleet on its feet as Ben Wheatley's Meg 2: The Trench, made only a scant two years ago.
I'd say the movie's makers ventured once too often into the saurus' maw and escaped mostly untouched, at least this time around; not sure they'd be smart to chance it once more with an eight sequel. I mean, where would they go? A more anthropomorphized D-Rex I assume, which already has the perversity of the human form about it, swollen cranium and all. Jurassic World: D-Rex Takes Manhattan anyone?
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