The park is open

Abraham Lincoln was such a Shakespeare aficionado that the quality of a production didn’t affect his enjoyment of it.  “It matters not to me whether Shakespeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought suffices,” he reportedly said.

With Jurassic Park films, the thought generally suffices for me, too.  My attitude is that any Jurassic Park film is better than none at all.  I liked The Lost World; I even liked the much-maligned JPIII, although it didn’t “bookend” the franchise in the way that the first films complemented one another in scale and scope.  I just love the franchise and delight in seeing dinosaurs on the big screen.

The question for me going into Jurassic World, then, wasn’t whether I’d enjoy the film.  I was pretty sure I’d get a kick out of it.  The only question is whether the movie would “suffice,” or whether it would be the follow-up we’ve all wanted it to be.

I got my answer Thursday night.  “Awesome” is a word that suffers from overuse, but in this case it’s warranted.  It’s Hammond’s dream realized on a massive scale, followed by a well-oiled thrill ride that bounces along from one high-adrenaline scene to the next, and it comes as close to capturing the original movie’s sense of wonder as any film I’ve seen in the last fifteen or twenty years.  It’s got enough of that sense of nostalgia to gratify longtime fans of the franchise, but it’s not so captive to its own history that it fails to carve out a place of its own.

Indeed, where it harmonizes with the other installments in the series is not in self-conscious references with a wink and a nudge at the audience—although there are a few of those moments, and they work—but in a more general congruence of structure and theme.  The franchise has always been about two things: the paradox of mankind’s powerlessness to cope with the consequences of his own power, and families, whether the creation of surrogate families (as in the first film) or the strengthening and reconstitution of biological ones (as in the second and third installments).  Jurassic World plays on both themes in a way that’s consistent with the other three films, but with enough innovation to put a new spin on things.

Of course, it isn’t the thematic issues that draw most people to these films.  Ask most moviegoers what Jurassic Park is all about, and they’ll tell you that it comes down to the dinosaurs.  Ironically, it’s with regard to the animals that most of my fellow dinosaur buffs have criticized Jurassic World.  Whereas the original film made headlines for tapping into the spirit of the “dinosaur renaissance” that reinterpreted the terrible lizards as active, warm-blooded, and birdlike, the fourth installment is a little behind the times.  We now know that many theropod dinosaurs—including Velociraptor—were feathered, which only underscores how correct many of the interpretations reflected in the first movies really were.  Jurassic World, however, adheres to the franchise’s internal canon rather than the scientific one.  Indeed, with regard to Velociraptor, it represents a step backward, since one of the raptors in JPIII sported a set of quills on its head in a nod to recent discoveries of feathered dinosaurs.

Normally I’m a stickler for accuracy in movies, and I would’ve preferred a little fluff on the raptors just for science’s sake.  In fact, the original novel provided the perfect rationale for such an adjustment; Wu points out that his lab produces the dinosaurs in “versions” along the line of new software releases to correct for defects in the cloning process.  Still, I’m not nearly as bothered by Jurassic World‘s leathery raptors as I probably should be.  For one thing, the franchise’s raptors were never accurate to begin with.  Velociraptor was a tiny animal; if you ran into a live one, its head would barely reach your thighs, although those teeth could still deliver a nasty bite.  (The raptors in the movies are closer in size to a close relative named Utahraptor, the largest member of the dromaeosaur family.)  And while I agree that feathery raptors in a major motion picture would’ve made for a good public education opportunity, I suspect that the hubbub over the film’s non-feathered dinos has gotten the word out to many of the people who would’ve been surprised had Jurassic World stuck to the science.

But the main reason I’m willing to give Colin Trevorrow and the other filmmakers a pass is simply because I can overlook a great many historical and scientific inaccuracies if a story is told well, and Jurassic World is a great ride.  It’s not a flawless film; it doesn’t have the same flair for deftly handling the scientific and moral aspects of the story with the same wit as the original.  But it’s a return to the franchise’s glory days—a big, bold, breathless adventure story that made me feel like the kid I was back in 1993.  My absolute favorite moment in the film came near the very end, a moment that rectified what I thought would be my biggest complaint about something that had been lacking, a scene perfectly engineered to have fans of the series leaping out of their seats and shouting for joy.  Up until that moment the film had been a home run, but that scene absolutely knocked it out of the park.  That’s as specific as I can get without giving the whole thing away, so suffice to say that Jurassic World saves the best for last, and when the credits rolled, all I wanted to do was go back and take the whole ride over again.

 

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