Do you recall the eventual look of guilt and horror on Richard Attenborough's face? In one look, the late great actor conveyed the weight of the guilt that John Hammond—the genius scientist, entrepreneur, and impresario at the center of 1993's Jurassic Park—felt when he finally saw the result of his hubris. He should have left the dino DNA in amber. Unleashing it into the world, even if his intentions were mostly benign, was a grave error.
A similar expression will reflect in the mirrors of the execs who green-lit Jurassic World. Oh, why didn't we just leave the past alone? They may not come to regret the decision for box office or licensing reasons. It's quite possible this third return to the island will be a profitable one. But from an artistic and entertainment point of view, this can only be called a disappointment. There are a few nifty moments (three at the most) and Chris Pratt remains our most likable new Hollywood star. But this does not make up for the idiotic plot, flat characters, ill-defined conflict, and rote action scenes. Jurassic World is a triceratops-sized dud.
(Medium spoilers ahead)
Owen Grady (Pratt), looking dreamy in a leather vest and exuding wit (despite having no interesting lines), is basically the hero of this muddled film. He's an ex-Navy/velociraptor-training badass living semi-independently on Isla Nubar off the coast of Costa Rica. That's where you'll find Jurassic World, a real, working version of the dinosaur theme park that never quite came together in the first films. There are interactive pavilions (with corporate sponsors!) and cool-looking monorails that zip you from a fancy hotel to a water tank, an aviary, a petting area, and to the place where you get to ride in somewhat independent gyro-sphere vehicles. It's owned by a new misguided visionary (Irrfan Khan) who thinks tinkering with the mechanics of evolution is a great idea.
The park's day-to-day chief, Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard, at a career nadir), has got her eyes fixed on the bottom line. The park is doing well, but if it is to expand, then it needs something bigger, faster, and with more razor-sharp teeth. As such, she's commissioned the creation of Indominus Rex, a hybrid of the T. Rex and, well, wouldn't you like to know.
The first third of Jurassic World is just awful. Our eyes and ears through this exposition are two unlikable kids—Claire's visiting nephews. The older one doesn't do much except smile at girls, while the younger one won't stop spouting facts about protein variants to the fifth integer. (Kids do this a lot in movies. I have a young nephew who does quite well in science, and I can assure you not everything he says sounds like Spock. This is lazy writing.) If you remember Steven Spielberg's original classic movie, then you can probably see where this is going: When Indominus Rex eventually gets free, it is the children who end up in the most danger, partly because they enter a busted-down gate that says WARNING! all over it.
The trouble in the park becomes difficult to contain and, blessedly, after a great deal of tedium, innocent people are finally chomped and smushed. (And pecked at from above, once ol' Indominus accidentally releases a whole flock of winged beasties!) While some of the bigger effects-driven scenes are quite amusing, there's no point in denying that Jurassic World is essentially Son of the Bride of Jurassic Park—a cheapo knock-off. Direct references to the first film (like the two boys hiding out in the ruins of the original) do this new film no favors.
Anyhow, to take down the loose dinosaur, Owen must lead his pack of mostly subservient velociraptors to battle, just as the evil military observer played by Vincent D'Onofrio secretly wanted. D'Onofrio does the best he can with his cliché character, as does poor Bryce Dallas Howard. She's a childless ice princess who puts career over family, but as the action heats up (and Pratt continues to charm her), she glows with perspiration and, I swear, ends up losing most of her clothes to the chase. By the end of the film she's got equal billing with her Wonderbra, much like Sigourney Weaver in Galaxy Quest. Except that flim knew it was joking.
The side characters are all so uninteresting you won't care which ones end up dino food. Moreover, it's hard to know what to cheer for in this film. Yes, to save the humans we must take down Indominus Rex. But what did she ever do to deserve to get shot at? She didn't know you shouldn't eat slow guards?
It's hard to believe that a movie about genetically altered super-dinosaurs could be boring. But other then a very few bright spots, that's what we've got here.
Jurassic World represents the flip-side to a recent success story. Remember last summer's far superior Godzilla? That revival of a classic monster movie was helmed by an indie director, Gareth Edwards, who got called up to the majors after his micro-budget sci-fi flick Monsters. Similarly, Jurassic World director Colin Trevorrow made his debut with the small Sundance film Safety Not Guaranteed. Like Jurassic World, it was slow and kinda dumb, but wowed the right people with its gutsy ending. I figure the studio bosses saw something more in him, but after watching this movie, I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. The performances are one-note, the staging is dry, and for all the dinosaurs romping around, there are few images that will linger. I doubt Tervorrow will receive Joel Schumacher-level fanboy rage, as this movie is too flat to be called an embarrassment, but I don't think he should be expecting any Christmas cards, either.
Will the studio try to sell us a fifth ticket to Jurassic Park? Sure, probably. And maybe if they get the right people next time it could be a fun ride. But with Michael Crichton gone and Steven Spielberg barely involved, this franchise will never be an elite destination. The best we can hope for is a deep-fried dirty carnival. Jurassic World went the other route, trying to be smart, but ended up undone by its own prehistoric brain.
