Nothing is ever enough. This is the recurrent theme that stealthily preys and camouflages within the greenery of Isla Nublar’s revamped premises in Costa Rica, successfully housing its engineered Triassic-Cretaceous inhabitants into a high-tech amusement park called “Jurassic World,” a twenty-two-year far cry from the tragedy that happened in Jurassic Park. The facilities are bigger, the equipment much more advanced, and yet it seems that nothing has changed. Much has been ignored and has never been referenced regarding the existence of Jurassic Park’s first two sequels, as the latest offering of the franchise, Jurassic World, serves as a direct homage to the dinosaur movie that started it all.
The film opens as Zach and Gray Mitchell (played by Nick Robinson and Ty Simpkins, respectively) are sent to spend the weekend at the care of their aunt, Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard), who happens to be Jurassic World’s park operations manager.
Jurassic World is now on its tenth year of operations, and the numbers are declining, the satisfaction ratings stagnating, while the costs of maintenance and improvement are ever increasing. Claire Dearing must somehow manage all of these, with a constant reference to the issue of control, and clearly her nephews are at the bottom of her priorities. All the while, the park is geared into opening a new attraction to somehow spark the public’s interest once again, giving birth to a genetic hybrid called the Indominus rex, a highly intelligent dish whose recipe is clandestinely drawn from features of several other creatures. The Indominus has proven to be so volatile, this prompts its owner to seek the opinion of Owen Grady (Chris Pratt), an expert who has almost trained Velociraptors to somehow respond to his bidding, and who seems to understand these dinosaurs more than what Claire could perceive from sole statistics.
Something has to go wrong eventually, as corporate greed is the mother of this creature’s invention: the Indominus rex escapes, and the rest of the characters are forced to contain the creature, or flee from it, while the body count (both man and dinosaur) slowly rises.
Director Colin Trevorrow has been designated the impossible task of creating another sequel to a movie so iconic, it is easy to mess everything up, more so if you mess up everyone’s childhood, that has spawned equally lackluster sequels. For what it is worth, he dodges, misses and succeeds in various aspects; the mere bravery of this fellow must be commended.
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The film also touches the subject of control. This can be seen in Claire’s attempts to micromanage even if the rest is already crumbling apart. The Velociraptors themselves have also played a critical role in establishing the boundaries between man and dinosaur, raising the question of how far the extent of man’s ownership is, and also the political implications of harnessing such intelligent and powerful creatures as weaponry. The movie further highlights the never-ending discourse between nature and nurture: what happens to the natural order, the natural food chain, a concept so enticing to man, if such a natural order exists in truth. The chaos that ensues serves to disprove the perversion of man’s fascination with maintaining the order of things, right down to the mini-dinosaur figures that hierarchically parade themselves on the desk of one of Jurassic World’s employees.
Jurassic World is no Jurassic Park. The build-up towards introducing a new, seemingly more menacing dinosaur in town proves to be futile. For some reason, the Indominus rex is not by a mile as frightening as the Tyrannosaurus rex this author has come to know by the iconic shaking of a glass of water many years back. Perhaps it is in the Indominus’ dragon-like design that has seen so many other variations in different shows. This is further affirmed once the real king of the dinosaurs marches into the screen in the film’s last act, which is the best part about this movie. It is simply hard to compare the Indominus to something that is fiercely powered by nostalgia.
And to further fuel this nostalgia is the effortless and non-distracting work of Michael Giacchino that pays its respects to John William’s well-known musical theme. Chris Pratt shines as the charismatic Velociraptor-trainer, Owen, deftly providing much of the laughs, yet remains bad-ass. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for his co-actors. Bryce Dallas Howard paints such an annoyingly caricaturish (dare I say, sexist) iteration of another damsel-in-distress, and the only thing to be blamed is the script. Of course she has to be an uptight and neat girl from the beginning that manages to be disarmed by a rugged love interest, and then has to be adored with her first attempts at fighting alongside him. Eyes have already rolled once she gets her obligatory moment of killing a Pterodactyl or two while brandishing guns haphazardly. The only thing redeemable in Claire is Bryce Dallas Howard’s commitment to at least give an engaging performance. On the other hand, the young actors accompanying them have boring personalities, if not forgettable. It is telling that the film’s breakout star is the gargantuan Mosasaurus, resting in the depths of the waters, yet giving such a memorable performance with one single movement.
All things considered, Jurassic World is undeniably action-packed. The last act of the movie probably makes every other aforementioned flaw forgivable, with such an unexpected conclusion to an epic confrontation. This alone is worth buying the ticket. The film concludes with the open promise of another chapter, while the creatures roamed free from its creators, as man has proven that the reach of his control is only as good as how he can be a steward of himself.
