"Why can't you just enjoy the film? Why do have to crap all over it?"
That was one of the first (exasperated) things Elizabeth said to me after we left a screening of Colin Trevorrow's latest film and fourth entry in the Jurassic Park franchise. And it's something I've been thinking a lot about since she said it. I mean, like most things, the more knowledgeable you become about the art of filmmaking, the harder it becomes to just sit back and enjoy a movie. But why can I forgive some popcorn blockbusters and not others? I'm not really sure there's catch-all explanation for it, to be honest.
She really enjoyed Jurassic World and I wasn't really sure how I felt about it. Really, I'm still waffling on how I feel about it. It's such a strange movie. On one scary dino claw, Jurassic World is essentially a film that hates itself. It's a film that is revolted by the fact that it even exists - a blockbuster reboot that finds the idea of blockbuster reboots offensive. It's full of this kind of meta-commentary and all of that stuff is pretty fascinating. But on the other scary dino claw, most of that gets overshadowed by the script being completely absent of nuanced, three dimensional characters and full of set pieces that often feel erratic and inexplicable. And then on the other other scary dino claw, there's the fact that Colin Trevorrow is clearly taking this stuff as unseriously as he possibly can and there's a certain amount of intrinsic fun in that. (I mean, at one point there's a dinosaur riding another dinosaur like some Power Ranger Megazord while fighting a third dinosaur.)
Besides all of the problems with the human characters - which I'll leave to someone else and only say that there are too many of them and all of their arcs are missing the entire middle bit making it basically impossible to be for or against any of them (there are only heroes and villains here because we're told "Look, these are the heroes and villains!") - I think what mostly ruins Jurassic World for me is the Indominus Rex.
Basically when the film opens, Isla Nublar (the island from Jurassic Park) has been a tourist attraction/theme park for years. So many years, in fact, that dinosaurs have stopped being cool. As a result, the park's (sorry, World's) genetic engineers are forced to create a new hybrid that is bigger, scarier and more exciting than anything that has come before it. This, as you might expect, is a colossally terrible idea. And, of course, stuff goes horribly wrong, the creature gets loose, people die, stop me if you think that you've heard this one before. The film wants us to believe that this desire for more is bad. The problem is that Jurassic World just happens to be everything it's critiquing.
The Indominus Rex, a Frankensteinization of a T. Rex with a little bit of this and a little bit of that and a dash of plot twist, is definitely more. But it isn't just bigger, scarier and more menacing than its predecessors, it's more everything. Actually, it's not even more everything, it is everything. Any kind of ability or power it needs to continue to press forward is magically granted to it, a product of one of the endless creatures used to craft its genetic makeup (powers and abilities that are often used once then never mentioned or used again like the dino's perfect camouflage). It also happens to have a ridiculous level of intelligence that includes knowing that it has a tracking chip inside itself, knowing where and how deep inside it is and knowing what the chip is used for.
There are no rules here. The Indominus Rex is the perfect killing machine that exists only as a gigantic McGuffin. It has no goals, it isn't trying to survive or escape anything, its sole purpose is to be an agent of chaos that does nothing but drive what little story there is forward. Yes, the I. Rex (brought to you by Apple) and Jurassic World are more everything than Jurassic Park. But all of that moreness rings hollow in comparison to the brilliant artistry of Spielberg's original. The Indominus Rex is the embodiment of the movie's themes, but it is also the embodiment of everything that's wrong with the movie.
But, like I said, Jurassic World is ridiculous. And to its credit, when it's not being stupid in bad way, it's pretty silly in a good way. I've already mentioned the amazing Megazord moment, but there's also the moment from trailers in which Chris Pratt (who plays the Cesar Millan of raptors) rides his motorcycle with a pack of raptors he's imprinted on and raised since they were born. We've also got soon-to-be classic lines like (these are from memory, I apologize if they're not spot on) "Look out, the raptors have a new alpha;" and "Depends on what kind of dinosaur they cooked up in that lab." Actually, so much of what Chris Pratt's character does is really incredibly silly (which is a relief because he doesn't get a chance to be his naturally charismatic self). But there's also creepy, sweaty, tight and beigey Vincent D'Onofrio. There are the criminally underused but consistently amazing Jake Johnson and Lauren Lapkus as two of the control room operators. There's the fact that Bryce Dallas Howard spends the entire film running (much of which is through rough terrain) in HIGH HEELS. And, of course, you've got great dino-on-dino action and some crunchie munchie human death scenes - one of which is so brutally cruel and undeserved that you can't help but laugh at how insane it is.
And if Jurassic World was simply two hours of ridiculous fun, I would have liked it so much better. But it just isn't. It's trying to do something more and failing miserably. Apart from the Indominus Rex being totally without purpose other than moving people from point A to point B and all the boring, undeveloped characters, it feels like we're missing most of the story. A divorce plot is mentioned but nothing ever really comes of it; we see Bryce Dallas Howard's and Chris Pratt's characters be a part of a love story without any parts where they might bicker, bond and/or share aspects of who they are; Irffan Khan plays the billionaire owner of the park with absolutely zero character consistency - at one point he says money is no object and making people happy is what's important only to later say they can't kill the I. Rex because he has too much money invested in it.
"Why can't you just enjoy the film? Why do have to crap all over it?" Elizabeth said to me when we left the theater. And I think that've I've finally come to the realization that whether you'll like Jurassic World or not depends on awe. For me, the saddest thing is how the movie presents the park itself. Too many people, too much commercialization, the lines are too long, you can't see the dinosaurs, Jurassic World the park sucks. For me, this is a film that told me over and over that I've lost my sense of awe, but that then proceeded to not give me anything really awe-inspiring. It argues that we're all too jaded and distracted, but then doesn't really give us any reason not to be (other than the mosasaurus, which was awesome). But some people will be inspired and awe-struck by this film. I'm sure millions already have been. And that's terrific! If it does strike you that way - if you see the final battle and the very last shot and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up then I think the film accomplished exactly what it set out to accomplish.
But I was still chuckling about the one dinosaur riding the other dinosaur and wondering how B.D. Wong's character and his sinister, black turtleneck charmed their way into cooking up another dinosaur in that lab. There was a new alpha, alright. Just not the one we expected or deserved. Now that's meta.
