by Chris Feil
It should maybe be said upfront that Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is an improvement over its woebegone predecessor. If you are an optimist at heart (or just a realist, because the “original” World was truly THAT bad), you might have assumed so already. Why you might not have assumed is that Fallen Kingdom is hellbent on crushing that optimism to dust, and even moreso the hope at the heart of its own franchise.
Three years after the destruction of the Jurassic World theme park, a volatile volcano threatens the entire remaining species on Isla Nublar. While the world watches, mired in the ethical battle to let the dinosaurs die or make efforts to save these living creatures, Bryce Dallas Howard’s former park manager Claire Dearing is recruited to help a last-dash rescue mission. That means also reconciling with former lover and raptor herder Owen Grady, Chris Pratt’s wise ass hero. It’s a recipe for disaster that comes to its natural dire conclusion, resulting in the dinosaurs reaching civilization.
Back on the mainland, the film crafts one of the more lugubrious and morbid third acts that strips the film of all of its internal logic. Aside from the series’ most shark jumping plot development, our goodwill for fun is stripped to its barest threads as the film doles out one heavy dose of gruesomeness after another. It’s as if the film uses our love for these films (especially the original), against us. One particular bit of emotional manipulation mirrors one of the most awe-inspiring images of Park and then crushes your soul with it. It’s a lot of corporate brutality and spiritual ugliness for one blockbuster to burden.
To the extent that these kind of films are like watching a kid bash all of their toys together (which is certainly a valid vessel for cinematic fun), Fallen Kingdom is the playground bully bashing their toys together after setting yours on fire.
The film dances around ideas that reflect our current social climate, positing the creation of the dinos as a scientific pandora’s box that cannot be closed. Whether we should deal with the mess we’ve made or burn it all down is the the film’s foggy moral conundrum, one its not nearly smart or even fully interested enough to examine beyond the surface. Ultimately, the most crushingly familiar and clearly drawn element is how human hubris is exploited for evil. While these narrative ideas are its strongest, they are also overly grim. Yeah, this sequel is a giant downer.
But because the film doesn’t have the intellectual wherewithal to connect these notions,it kind of just flops about in its own filth and the current cultural miasma that it half-summons and chickens out on. Similarly half-baked, the film initiates a playable dynamic for Howard and Pratt to play as thwarted lovers before quickly turning both into empty respondents to the CGI mayhem.
Sadly you can feel director J.A. Bayona’s typically hard-won uplift given so little space to shine through all of the sadistic franchise machinations. When his creative voice announces itself in galvanizing horror fashion as he did with The Orphanage, the film delivers on thrills worthy of the Jurassic name. You just may need a cigarette and a hug after.
Grade: OUCH D+