Jurassic World: Rebirth Is the Best Sequel Since Spielberg Left the Park

Just outside the theater hosting my screening of Jurassic World: Rebirth was a marketing installation featuring life-sized velociraptors, an archway bearing the words JURASSIC PARK, and at least one Jeep Wrangler patterned directly after Spielberg's 1993 film. It was clear from the jump that the marketing team behind Rebirth wanted the audience to associate the film not with the at-times-awful Jurassic World trilogy that immediately preceded it, but specifically with the original Park, still far and way the best of the bunch. 

That Rebirth manages to live up to such lofty expectations at all is a minor miracle, but director Gareth Edwards rustles up some uncharacteristic Spielberg cheese and charm, and the result is the best Jurassic sequel since at least Spielberg's own follow-up, The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Indeed, there are long stretches here that shamelessly allude to Spielbergian horror—who knew an extended Jaws homage could feel so at home in a dinosaur flick?—and that welcome sense of an old-school scare and impending dread inject the franchise with new life. 

Edwards, a filmmaker whose adeptness with scale serve him well for showcasing a valley of massive titanosaurs, but marrying his trademark bent toward doom and gloom with Spielberg's patented sentiment ultimately produced moments of genuine awe. That titanosaur sequence occurs at around the midpoint of the movie, and composer Alexandre Desplat wisely holds off on even hinting at John Williams' iconic march theme until this moment. As the intrepid crew of our new monster movie gazes in wonder at the herd of gigantic sauropods, we're treated to a sequence that rivals the Jurassic Park reveal of the Brachiosaurus. It’s that effective.

Speaking of the film's score, it's to Desplat's credit that this is the first time I've noticed the music of a new Jurassic film in about 25 years. The cold open is full of classic sci-fi horror stuff—like a 90s Alien movie—and Desplat absolutely revels in it, the score bursting with horn section that mimics the staccato violins of Bernard Herrmann’s Psycho. For me, that music cue and the logo reveal it accompanies was the ultimate litmus test for one's enjoyment of the film: it announces, in no uncertain terms, this is a throwback monster movie. In its best moments, Rebirth embraces how overdone, bordering on cheesy, these movies can and should be, which is a welcome change from the cynical cash-grab reek emanating from its predecessors.

Edwards, for his part, locates that the success of Spielberg's two entries in the franchise lies not just in scary dinos, but in creating an effective atmosphere of peril. Since at least Jurassic Park III, the franchise has sacrificed peril to be content with mere danger, but there's a huge divide between the two. Characters in a Jurassic movie are always in danger: they're trying to escape from an isolated location full of carnivorous predators. Even the lesser entries in the franchise can capture the feeling that our protagonists are constantly hunted. But to execute a sequence where your characters are in peril, the stakes have to be emotional, not just physical, which means we have to really care about the characters' wellbeing. The worst thing a cast of Jurassic characters can be is dinosaur fodder.

One way peril is achieved is the resurrection of the old Spielberg (and screenwriter David Koepp) standby: kids in peril. We're treated to an adorable young girl, her rebellious teenage sister, and the sister's stoner boyfriend, the latter two technically old enough to become mincemeat without the audience objecting. Another reason the peril angle works so well is that, compared to prior entries, it all feels so tactile. Whether the human characters are exploring cavernous underground structures with stalagmites and stalactites, or climbing rock faces, it feels real. There’s a ton of CG in the movie, but for the most part, it’s complementary to what’s happening and interacting with the actors.

Perhaps the biggest drawback to Rebirth is the lack of development of Scarlett Johansson's ostensible main character. Zora Bennett is some sort of a mercenary contracted by a large pharmaceutical company to lead an expedition to an island inhabited by Jurassic World dinosaurs--specifically the largest ones remaining--to extract blood samples which could lead to the development of new life-saving drugs. It's as preposterous as it sounds, and it's all just a way to get us on an island full of monsters. The screenplay tries to shoehorn in some kind of past trauma and the loss of a partner, but there simply isn't enough backstory to care. Similarly, Johansson chooses to play these repressed emotions through a weirdly defensive smile, which only makes the character seem like the world's happiest mercenary. 

There are a few standout performances here, including the great Mahershala Ali—he’s a two-time Oscar winner for a reason. In a screenplay relying so heavily on Jaws, it's fair to call Ali the Quint of the movie. But the real MVP is Jonathan Bailey in a character who looks to be modeled after the animated movie Atlantis, a fun and appropriately dorky museum caretaker-type. Again, you don’t come to a Jurassic movie for the humans—but he’s a highlight.

That said, the movie kind of falls apart in the third act. Part of that is due to the reveal of the "big bad," a mutant creature called the D-Rex, which presents a similar issue to Jurassic World's Indominous Rex. Once we start mutating these creatures, the films become more "alien movie" than "dinosaur movie." I know that’s splitting hairs, but this thing looks mutated, like a colossal version of the creature from Alien: Resurrection.

The filmmakers also lean heavily on Hollywood's recent trend of refusing to kill off even semi-important characters. There’s at least one major fake-out that bothered me, and a big rug-pull at the end of the movie, which undermines the only emotionally true moment in the screenplay to that point.

And it wouldn't be a summer blockbuster without at least one merchandising opportunity. This one's name is Dolores, a triceratops hybrid that starts off cute, and becomes more contrived by the minute. She's a blatant attempt to market plush dolls to kids (though, admittedly, those dolls will be very cute). 

Overall, Jurassic World: Rebirth is leaps and bounds better than most summer blockbusters in the era of Marvel IP and studio cynicism. It’s a return to earnest blockbuster filmmaking, it felt like a real movie, and I could see the money up on the screen—in how tactile it all was.

Final Score: 7.5/10