3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for intense sci-fi violence and peril
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.12.15
We never learn.
Which is a good thing ...
because, otherwise, where would Hollywood find most of its plotlines?
In a few key respects, Jurassic
World is an honorable sequel to the sensational 1993 film that Steven
Spielberg made from Michael Crichton’s riveting, way-clever novel ... not to
mention Spielberg’s almost-as-good 1997 follow-up, adapted from Crichton’s own
sequel. (Equal credit also goes to scripter David Koepp, who worked on both
films.)
We’ll just sorta pretend that the
series’ third entry, in 2001, never happened.
Which also seems to be the
attitude adopted by this new film’s director, Colin Trevorrow, and his three
co-writers: Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver and Derek Connelly. Jurassic World does
acknowledge the first two films with several nice nods toward those who
sculpted this franchise so superbly. Even Michael Giacchino’s exhilarating
score references key John Williams themes from the two Spielberg movies.
Visual effects supervisors Tim
Alexander and Glen McIntosh also do phenomenal work, further enhancing the “you
are there” verisimilitude that made the first film such a jaw-dropping wonder.
It’s no imaginative stretch at all, to accept these various beasties as living,
breathing ... and highly dangerous.
Trevorrow and editor Kevin Stitt concoct
a hell-for-leather third act, with each suspenseful encounter and/or chase
building to an even better one. Additionally, the script is laden with
perceptive social commentary, taking some well-deserved jabs at our jaded 21st
sensibilities, while reminding us anew that — to paraphrase a droll 1970s TV
commercial — it’s not nice to mess with Mother Nature.
Sounds great, right?
Well ... not entirely.
Despite its many virtues, Jurassic World is marred by an abundance of unpleasant, mean-spirited and
just plain stupid characters who spend the entire film behaving like complete
idiots. On top of which, Trevorrow seems to have coached everybody to play at
hyper-melodramatic, back row/third balcony opera house levels.
That’s frankly surprising, since
Trevorrow’s sole previous credit is 2012’s droll Safety Not Guaranteed, a
little sci-fi mystery that gets its oomph from being so deliciously coy, subtle
and quiet.
So why switch gears here? Did
Trevorrow worry that his human players had to compete with their dino co-stars,
when it came to chewing up the scenery?
Whatever the reason, it’s hard to
like or admire most of these characters, including the few whom we’re
definitely supposed to root for. Brainless behavior demands the opposite; I’d
have been perfectly content to watch a few more become dino-chow.
Anyhow...
Two decades and change have
passed since Dr. John Hammond first built his amazing theme park, and stocked
it with prehistoric beasts coaxed into life from petrified DNA. The Isla Nublar
facility has become an even larger tourist attraction, thanks to a financial
injection from billionaire benefactor Simon Masrani (Irrfan Khan).
But much the way conventional
theme parks have been forced to construct bigger and badder roller coasters,
lest they perish from public disinterest, Jurassic World has survived solely
because geneticist Henry Wu (BD Wong, reprising his role from Jurassic Park) has
kept Isla Nublar well stocked with critters both benign and ferocious. Children
ride gentle mini Triceratops in the petting zoo, while patrons at an aquatic
attraction watch a massive Mosasaurus leap from the water to snatch a great
white shark dangled as a snack.
Everything is overseen by
career-oriented, bean-counting operations manager Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard),
whose micro-managing style is grating, to say the least. Actually, everything
about Claire is grating; Howard does far too good a job, making the woman
arrogantly insufferable.
No surprise, then, that she’s
less than thrilled to be saddled with her sister’s sons: 16-year-old Zach (Nick
Robinson) and 11-year-old Gray (Ty Simpkins), who’ve arrived expecting some
“family bonding” with their long-unseen aunt. In this script’s most pointless
sidebar, the boys’ mother and father (Judy Greer and Andy Buckley) are about to
divorce. Not that this detail ever gets the heft it demands.
Claire’s usual level of distraction
is heightened by the impending debut of the park’s next headline-grabber: a
genetically enhanced super-saurian dubbed Indominus rex. She therefore abandons
her nephews to the care of her assistant, Zara (Katie McGrath).
Unpleasantly dismissive as Claire
is, Zach is even worse: a sullen jerk who, despite having just left a
girlfriend back home, ogles every teen hottie he spots. As with Howard,
Robinson plays this young jackass to such perfection, that we can’t help
wishing that the aquatic trainer would feed him to the Mosasaurus.
OK, I get it: Zach is introduced
as a cad because circumstances will force him to “man up” and behave like the
caring older brother he’s supposed to be. But Robinson can’t sell that
transition; it just sorta happens, eventually, because the script says so. In a
similar vein, Howard also fails to sell Claire’s equally necessary character
shift.
That’s bad directing. Granted,
many viewers likely won’t mind, but I do wish Trevorrow had tried a little
harder.
Elsewhere in the park, rough-around-the-edges
nice guy Owen (Chris Pratt) has developed a cautious but successful bond with four
Velociraptors dubbed Blue, Charlie, Delta and Echo. This work has aroused the
interest of Hoskins (Vincent D’Onofrio), a not-so-clandestine corporate stooge
who — following in the footsteps of Paul Reiser’s Burke, in Aliens — sees
great military potential in “weaponizing” the ’raptors.
Needless to say, Stuff Goes
Wrong.
As was true of last summer’s Guardians of the Galaxy, Pratt is this film’s secret weapon: absolutely the
coolest human character on the island. Bulked up as befitting his character’s
special ops background, Pratt also displays a persuasive air of authority,
while further serving as this story’s social conscience. Owen gets saddled with
a lot of hokey dialogue, particularly when it comes to insisting that these
various beasties be accorded respect as “living creatures” ... and damned if
Pratt doesn’t pull it off. Every single clichéd phrase.
Claire, however, can’t see Owen’s
resourceful forest for her self-centered tree; she’s still mad at him because
of one less than optimal date. (That’s a rather slender thread on which to hang
so massive a character dynamic, and their prickly “banter” is rather awkward.)
By this point, we’ve also had to
put up with a wealth of inexplicably poor behavior on the part of all sorts of
people. Even for a corporate stooge — an easy target, these days — Claire’s
apathy toward loss of life, and her initial refusal to consider public safety,
are ludicrous. And are we really supposed to believe that park visitors would
be allowed to power themselves inside large gyroscopic hamster spheres,
wandering willy-nilly through dinosaur-filled meadows? Seriously?
Needless to say, the latter
contrivance gives bad-boy Zach an excuse to venture farther afield, eventually
putting him and Gray in serious peril. Hey, kids will be kids.
And boy, for a supposedly savvy
billionaire entrepreneur, Masrani is remarkably clueless. Fortunately, Khan is
skilled enough to (mostly) make us overlook this guy’s failings.
Nothing is sillier, though, than
the suggestion that a motorcycle-bound Owen could pace his ’raptors, as they
charge pell-mell through a forest. What, are we to believe that Owen just sorta
vaporizes through the countless trees and fallen branches that the ’raptors
evade, leap over and scoot under? Sure, it’s a way-nifty sequence, but hardly
credible.
The obligatory peril and
jaw-crunching deaths are handled in a (mostly) family-friendly manner, as
befitting this film’s PG-13 rating. Trevorrow doesn’t dwell on dismemberment or
gore, limiting things to blood spatters, off-camera chomps and single-gulp
swallows (much like the notorious toilet scene in Jurassic Park).
There’s one exception: a
supporting character who endures way more suffering than seems warranted.
Several lesser players stand out
in supporting performances. Jake Johnson (Nick, on TV’s New Girl) and Lauren
Lapkus spar nicely as command center technical engineers, and Omar Sy is
memorable as the park’s refreshingly intelligent lead dinosaur handler.
Finally, Colby Boothman-Shepard is appropriately terrified, as a newbie ’raptor
handler.
And Jimmy Fallon is a hoot,
playing himself in one of the park’s many instructional videos.
The 3D effects add little to the
film: no surprise, since they were added after the fact, rather than integrated
from the get-go by Trevorrow and cinematographer John Schwartzman. That said,
watching this film on the giant IMAX screen is a genuine treat: the best
possible way to experience the second hour’s many thrills ’n’ chills.
Based on the turn-away crowd at
Tuesday evening’s preview screening, anticipation for this film is running very
high; box-office business should be impressive. And, in fairness, it’s a helluva
ride ... once it gets going.
But Trevorrow couldn’t get the
all-essential blend of thoughtful science, admirable heroes and crowd-pleasing
thrills that Spielberg delivered so well. Let’s therefore call this one a good
try.
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