‘Editor.’ I’ve never felt more pretentious in my life…
Opening The JHN Files to posts written by people other than, y’know… me has been an on-again/off-again intention of mine since Day #1. At the moment, it’s the latter. I have no plans to make guest posts a regular thing, but I’m more than happy to let the site be a platform for friends who find themselves wanting to share thoughts too extensive for social media or your average comments section, but have nowhere to do it. So that’s what I’m doing here.
Other than that, all that’s left to say is that any opinions expressed within guest posts don’t necessarily reflect my own. They belong to their author, and, of course, anyone who happens to share them.
Housekeeping taken care of, I’ll shut up, get out of the way, and let Fede take you back to the fallen kingdom. Enjoy!
— John T.
After watching Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom way more than once in the theatre and thinking about it every day since the release, I finally decided to write a full-spoiler review of the film. Well, it’s not actually a review… it’s more like an analysis of the various scenes, themes, metaphors and messages throughout the movie.
I think Bayona’s film is much deeper, richer and more complex than some make it out to be. It is, of course, also a fun blockbuster popcorn movie, with entertaining action sequences, thrilling adventure, and moments full of suspense that must satisfy both adults and kids. Sometimes, it even goes into territories in which you must suspend your disbelief, whether because our hero manages to survive being engulfed by a pyroclastic flow, because dinosaurs fight gloriously during a volcanic eruption, or because a very sophisticated biological weapon cannot smell his prey when it’s just a few meters from him — but it’s not like the original Jurassic Park didn’t have similar issues, none of which stop me from considering it a wonderful classic and one of the best blockbusters ever made.
If you think these things are too unrealistic to let you enjoy the movie, I’m afraid you might never really love Fallen Kingdom. But if you think there’s something more to Bayona’s work than just some over-the-top moments and a few continuity mistakes, then you might enjoy this review (or analysis, as said before), which will explore what makes Fallen Kingdom a great movie and also a deep insight on humanity, greed, nature, redemption, ethical dilemmas and, especially, empathy.
Let’s get straight to the point: analysing the film step-by-step, from the first scene to the last.
The film begins underwater (first time ever in the franchise). We’re at Isla Nublar, one hundred and twenty miles west of Costa Rica. The mission: to recover a bone from the Indominus rex remains, in order to create a better version of the hybrid that destroyed Jurassic World in 2015, connecting the dots with what Hoskins said in the previous entry: ‘Imagine that one, a fraction of the size… deadly, intelligent… able to hide from the most advanced military technology. A living weapon unlike anything we’ve ever seen.’
The new hybrid — being smaller, smarter, darker, and made of both old and new elements — can be seen as a representation of the movie itself. ‘A creature of the future, made of pieces of the past,’ says Gunnar Eversol.
The Indominus was bigger, shinier — for the tourists, just like Jurassic World. The Indoraptor is really something else: he’s constantly trembling, he’s always in the dark (never appearing in daylight), he’s decadent — like an actual fallen kingdom.
The opening sequence is a masterpiece of suspense. The use of light and shadow by J.A. Bayona is so suggestive and beautiful to watch (and hear, thanks to great sound effects and a beautifully dark choral score by Michael Giacchino). The lightning that shows, just for a second, the T. rex’s head behind the unlucky guy is one of the absolute directorial highlights of the whole franchise. It’s something that got stuck in my head from the moment I saw it and will never go away.
But I also noticed something else about this scene: the guy in a yellow raincoat, the incessant rain, the bushes being moved by something that sounds like a Dilophosaurus, the ‘ISLA NUBLAR — 120 MILES WEST OF COSTA RICA’ caption, the helicopter, the T. rex chasing a guy in the darkness.
This seems more like a tribute to Jurassic Park than an actual Fallen Kingdom opening scene. It’s like Trevorrow and Bayona wanted us to get that feeling of watching Jurassic Park again, but to also show how those people really couldn’t last more than five minutes there, and that, just like us (the audience), it’s time for them to leave that place, that nostalgic island, and just move on. A last, big, old-fashioned taste of Jurassic Park, with all the elements that we expect from a movie of this franchise, before leaving the island forever — a bit like Sergio Leone’s masterpiece that showed us three characters (in the opening of Fallen Kingdom, we have three points of view as well: underwater, land, helicopter) waiting for a train for ten long minutes, and then being killed in a second, to give us a strong message: the time of the Old West, the gunfighters and cowboys, is about to end. Here’s your last taste, but, now, everything will change.
After recovering the rib from the female hybrid in order to give life to the male hybrid (thanks to Klayton Fioriti for finding this interesting Biblical reference), we hear Ian Malcolm’s speech about man and genetic power. Isla Nublar’s inhabitants are now threatened by an extinction-level volcanic eruption, and when asked if we should save those dinosaurs or leave them to die, Goldblum’s iconic character suggests that we should allow them to be ‘taken out’ by the volcano. This would restore the natural order of things, after man changed the course of natural history by cloning dinosaurs and, basically, playing God. What I find interesting here, besides some welcome references to Michael Crichton’s novel, is that the film doesn’t give us a definitive answer to the dilemma.
The first opinion we hear is from Dr. Malcolm, but, later, we see Claire Dearing, now president of the non-profit Dinosaur Protection Group (D.P.G.), sticking to the opposite side, wanting to save the animals from a second extinction. This allows the audience to start a debate (like good films do): would I save them or would I leave them to die?
Back to Malcolm’s courtroom scene. Our favourite chaotician paraphrases Michael Crichton with one of the most impactful lines in the movie: ‘Change is like death… you don’t know what it looks like until you’re standing at the gates.’ Interestingly enough, one of the most important scenes in the movie’s climax shows the dinosaurs flocking towards a gate, without seeing (in that particular shot, at least) where they are heading. We see them going towards the darkness, unable to know what consequences the dinosaurs on the mainland will actually bring to the planet until we’re ‘standing at the gates’ of Jurassic World 3.
Back at the beginning, we see Claire Dearing sadly learn that, despite all her efforts with her new Group, the courts have decided not to save the dinosaurs.
First thing to note about this scene: Claire has changed since we saw her in Trevorrow’s previous movie. The reason for this change isn’t to be found in any expository dialogue, but in the Jurassic World scene in which she can’t help but cry over the death of a poor Apatosaurus, killed by the monstrous result of man’s greed and hubris. She witnessed the passing of a living creature right before her eyes, slowly leaving life and embracing death. Now, Claire has grown a respect for these creatures; she cares about them, just like she did before becoming the cold business woman we see in the 2015 movie. (I suggest you read The Evolution of Claire by Tess Sharpe, if you haven’t already.)
But is this the only reason why she created the D.P.G.? I think it becomes pretty evident that one of her motivations is actually the pursuit of redemption.
Here, we’re taken to Lockwood’s Estate, a sort of castle (and, here, I credit Klayton Fioriti again) representing the real ‘fallen kingdom,’ with its king (Lockwood), and its royal-blooded princess (Maisie), who gets imprisoned in a tower (her bedroom) by the traitorous knight (Eli Mills) — who will eventually kill the king (he literally bows down to him in a scene, and when Lockwood dies, you see the sceptre fall in pieces), and let the people of other kingdoms into the castle in order to sell the slaves (dinosaurs)… leading to the reveal of the dragon who lives in the dungeons (the Indoraptor). Owen will be the knight who saves the princess, thanks to his faithful steed (Blue).
From that moment, the film becomes a horror, a gothic tale in which the mansion becomes a haunted house (a bit like in the horror masterpiece The Orphanage, from the same director), and the dinosaurs become the ghosts, since they are living animals that should actually be extinct. But some ghosts are good, and some (one, especially) are evil.
Talking about that evil one, the Indoraptor: to Claire and Owen, it might represent the ghost of the past, the spectre of the Indominus rex, that (what a coincidence) the two main characters meet as soon as they admit their faults, and finally decide to shoulder their responsibilities and face their demons.
In the end, an important choice decides the fate of the various ‘ghosts’ and frees them from unbearable pain (the gas chamber), frees their spirits, leading them to the deserved afterlife, a new world beyond that gate… and let’s quote Malcolm again here: ‘Change is like death… you don’t know what it looks like until you’re standing at the gates.’
I think these metaphors are really interesting, and I’m sure Bayona’s touch comes into play here (I highly suggest, for those who haven’t seen it yet, A Monster Calls… wonderful film), but let’s get back to the redemption aspect, because the following dialogue is, to me, really important to fully understand both Claire and Benjamin Lockwood’s motivations.
I felt a sort of deep connection between these two characters, even if they probably met just once before. The old man with an amber cane explicitly talks about redemption to Claire, as if he knew her real motivations on a deeper level, and when he delivers his monologue about his past with Hammond and what separated them, he ends with, ‘Life teaches us some very hard lessons… doesn’t it, Claire?’ I find this invisible but palpable connection between them to be really intriguing. They understand each other, because both are responsible for something bad, and both are willing to fix it.
Claire feels guilty for the loss of human and animal lives during the Jurassic World incident three years before. She was responsible for the creation of the Indominus rex, and the manager of a theme park in which dinosaurs were not free, but locked in cages for their whole lives — her ‘evolution’ symbolised when she decides to release a T. rex from its paddock in order to save her loved ones. She doesn’t realise the importance of her human relationships until the disaster occurs and people get in serious trouble — and that lack of empathy, towards both the dinosaurs and the humans, is what Claire wants to fix. By saving the dinosaurs and giving them freedom in a sanctuary far from human greed and villainy, she would feel free of that sense of guilt.
We’re introduced also to Eli Mills, whose first shot, as he comes down the stairs, resembles the way Peter Ludlow first appears in Spielberg’s The Lost World. Curiously enough, both mention Hammond in their first lines, and both wear suits and think mostly about money. This man is a clear embodiment of human greed. He reminded me a bit of novel-Dodgson in his villainy (Dodgson almost kills Sarah Harding in Crichton’s The Lost World, and thinks primarily of profit). In a scene from the second half of the movie, we even see monetary numbers reflected in his glasses. Mills is also the one who says what is probably my favourite line of the movie… but we’ll get to it later.
Mills explains the mission to Claire, who immediately accepts and gets ready to go back to Nublar. But first, she will have to recruit Owen Grady in order to help the rescue team find Blue, the last of her species.
The interesting thing is that Owen and Claire reacted to the Jurassic World incident in opposite ways: Claire dedicated her life and job to the dinosaurs, to fixing the mistakes of the past; Owen, on the other hand, just tried to forget and put the past behind him, going to live in a house far from everything and everyone, drinking beer and playing pool.
Claire: ‘Blue is alive… you raised her, Owen — you spent years of your life working with her. You’re just gonna let her die?’
Owen: ‘Well, yeah…’
Does Owen not care about Blue anymore? I think that’s not the truth at all. Owen wouldn’t spend the night watching old footage of baby Blue if he didn’t care. The fact is: Owen doesn’t want to go back to Nublar. He clearly doesn’t want to deal with his past. He just wants to forget everything that happened three years before, pretending, even to himself, not to care about Blue or the dinosaurs. That night, thanks to his conversation with Claire, he realises he needs to shoulder his responsibilities and face his demons.
Besides, I also think he didn’t want Claire to go to the island alone.
Another fact: Owen and Claire are not together anymore. They promised to ‘stick together’ at the end of Jurassic World, but, somehow, that didn’t last very long. The reason why they broke up is quite silly: ‘… you wouldn’t let me drive the damn van…!’ Quite immature for them, isn’t it? But, in this film, they drastically change; they both have an evolution throughout Fallen Kingdom that’s so subtle that it might go unnoticed, but it’s there, and it’s not little at all. Again, we will get to it later.
So, Owen and Claire, along with new characters Franklin Webb, a young technician (a bit like Lowery from the previous film), and paleo-veterinarian Zia Rodriguez, begin their journey to Isla Nublar.
These two characters, while not the most important of the movie, give the story a further energy, some moments of levity, and a few emotional scenes, like the one in which Zia, who’s never seen a dinosaur before, stands in awe before a majestic Brachiosaurus walking in front of her. ‘I never thought I’d see one in real life…’ is exactly what Alan Grant thought when he first saw the Apatosaurus in Michael Crichton’s original novel. (Great acting as well.) Franklin, on the other hand, reminds us quite often that the dinosaurs, while worth saving, are still dangerous animals we should fear.
Elsewhere, we get to know the young girl who is, probably, the most important new character of the movie — the true heart and soul of the story: Maisie Lockwood.
Here, I will stop going in chronological order, because I think Maisie deserves her own long digression.
Eli Mills tells Claire that Maisie is Benjamin Lockwood’s granddaughter, and that her mother died in a car accident years before. Later in the movie, we find out she’s actually a clone of Lockwood’s dead daughter. As in some of the best ghost stories, we spend the whole time thinking about how to deal with the haunted house, only to ending up realising that we’re the ghosts ourselves. The perspective on the whole situation, after this kind of twist, will inevitably change.
Maisie, played with great intensity by Isabella Sermon, is the key to fully understand Fallen Kingdom, embodying one of the main themes of the movie: empathy.
The premise of the film is a mission to rescue the dinosaurs from the volcanic eruption. While, from a purely cynical point of view, we should leave them to die (1. They should not have been resurrected. 2. We should let nature take its course. 3. We’re messing too much with genetic power, like Malcolm suggests…), we, as humans, are capable of empathy — and of recognising that, whatever their origins, the dinosaurs are a gift we cannot just ignore.
Bayona had the difficult task of making us so moved by, and empathetic towards, the dinosaurs, that, in the end, we would decide to stand with them and not with the greedy humans — we see a hunter, Ken Wheatley, violently removing a tooth from a slightly sedated Stegosaurus; we see the Brachiosaurus being slowly taken by the pyroclastic flow in one of the most emotional, symbolic (she strikes the same pose as in that iconic Jurassic Park scene), and gorgeous-looking scenes of the entire franchise; we see a baby Triceratops looking for the comfort of her mother in a cage (with Claire’s speech about the dinosaurs being miracles); we find the Stygimoloch to be one of the most likeable and funniest herbivores in the series; we see the T. rex eat the bad guy.
But there are two particular aspects of this film that really get you to empathize with the dinosaurs.
First, the baby Blue footage. In one of the most awe-inspiring scenes of the sequels, Maisie sneaks into the secret underground laboratory and watches a video of Owen dealing with his pack of raptors. We initially see how Delta attacks him as soon as he shows any sign of weakness. Blue, on the other hand, shows a high level of empathy; she just comes closer to Owen and cuddles him. All of this happens as Zia is operating on the adult Blue aboard the Arcadia (a name that, in literature, has been used to represent an ideal land where man and nature live in perfect harmony).
A detail to notice is that when Blue imitates Owen rotating his head, Maisie does so, too, showing how incredibly empathetic she is (despite being born ‘artificially’), and foreshadowing her being a clone, like the dinosaurs. The second aspect is, of course, just that: Maisie being a human clone. Her presence makes the whole ethical debate even more complex and interesting.
Let’s say we’re on the side of letting the dinosaurs die because their creation altered the natural course of events… if Maisie contracted, for example, an illness that would need medical help (an idea for Jurassic World 3?), should we let her die since she basically has no right to live? Would you let that happen? I bet you wouldn’t. You would probably renounce all your ethical principles because of one reason: again, empathy.
So, if Maisie has the right to live, why don’t the dinosaurs?
Yes, they’re dangerous and can eat people, but let’s go back to a very important line from Trevorrow’s Jurassic World:
“Monster is a relative term. To a canary, a cat is a monster. We’re just used to being the cat…” — Henry Wu.
As humans, we’ve lived for thousands of years as ‘monsters,’ but rarely feel like we are. We don’t blame ourselves enough for radically changing (mostly for the worse) our planet, for killing various animal species for sport or for their fur, for eradicating entire forests to build over them, for using animals for science experiments and for combat, or for creating enormous levels of pollution.
We basically forgot that we’re part of this planet, and not in control of it.
“The key to a happy life is to accept you’re never actually in control.” — Simon Masrani.
Another quote of Masrani’s: ‘Jurassic World exists to remind us how very small we are, how new.’ In Jurassic, this is now happening. Just as a shark looks like a little fish compared to the Mosasaurus, and a majestic lion seems like a kitten in comparison with the gigantic T. rex, humans will now feel a bit smaller, humbled by the return of the dinosaurs to the Earth. These creatures ruled the planet for much more time than we will ever be able to, and now they’re back… not only the ones that Maisie released, but also the ones bought at the auction and transported to places like Indonesia and Russia — and let’s not forget about the case full of embryos, from which many dinosaurs will be born.
Colin Trevorrow said, in a recent interview, that Jurassic World 3 will make us realise that one of Claire’s lines from the first movie of this new trilogy (‘No one is impressed by a dinosaur anymore…’) is totally wrong.
So, what should we do then? We killed ‘inferior’ animals for years because we thought ourselves the dominant species, and we felt we had the right to do it. But if dinosaurs become the dominant species, would we feel differently about what we’ve done to nature and animals so far? Should we have shown them more respect? Should we have refrained from playing God? The box, as Eli Mills says in Fallen Kingdom, cannot be closed. We will just have to face our responsibilities in the best way possible, one that might guarantee a balance between ALL living creatures on the planet.
In this way, man might have the chance to learn from his mistakes, to learn that everyone on the planet has the same right to life. In the end, the cynical Malcolm was right about not messing with nature — but empathy, not cynicism, becomes the key to fixing the problem, and would have actually been the right choice since the beginning.
Maisie’s origins are what leads to one of the most controversial scenes of the franchise: the button scene, a pivotal moment (underscored by John Williams’s four-note horn theme) that we’ve been waiting for since 1993, that, since the creation of Jurassic Park, was inevitable, due to Chaos Theory (little changes leading to cataclysmic, dramatic consequences).
That moment is where both past and future collide — and who presses the button, in the end? The first human clone. A metaphor for where the Jurassic universe is heading. The clone makes the choice. We’re heading into a whole new era.
That brings us to the roles of Owen and Claire in all of this. As mentioned earlier, they actually have an arc throughout the story.
We’ve already talked about Owen’s change of mind between the bar scene and when he decides to join Claire for the journey to Isla Nublar. Chris Pratt’s character has always been, despite being funny and cool, also a little arrogant. He’s the kind of guy who’ll never admit his faults and thinks he’s always doing the right thing. In the prison scene, he finally recognises his faults (as does Claire), and how mindless he was in not thinking of the consequences of his research — and, like I said before, that’s exactly when the Indoraptor gets shown.
Owen gets together with Claire again, and even chooses, along with Claire, to take care of Maisie and of his responsibilites. This is a subtle but interesting piece of maturation, and I think, this time, they will not break up for silly reasons, since they have to take care of a kid and, basically, the whole world.
Claire evolves as well. She, initially, just wants to save the dinosaurs, and (just like Owen) thinks she can control the situation after Mills explains the rescue mission. She realises how foolish she was and admits her faults, as these animals (again, she calls them ‘miracles’) are in peril and being sold because she trusted the wrong people, and thought she had the situation under control.
At the end, she has the power to save the dinosaurs, but doesn’t. If dinosaurs get free and kill people, it will be her fault. She basically rejects her own life mission, realising she’s the one who, indirectly, brought those animals to the gas chamber through her choices. She doesn’t push the button, giving truth to what Mills said about her being hypocritical — but also showing significant character maturity. As we know, however, she doesn’t have to. Finally aware of her own origins, Maisie does it instead.
We can now quote a line from Mills that I absolutely loved: ‘You two… you’re the parents of the new world.’
Claire and Owen are not just random people who happen to be there in the middle of the situation. They are the ones who opened ‘Pandora’s Box’ and brought the chaos that began with the creation of Jurassic Park to the next level.
Claire authorised the creation of the Indominus rex, the first hybrid and the first real attempt to use the dinosaurs for something other than the amusement of tourists at a theme park; Owen began the research on how to create a relationship between man and beast, giving the ‘bad guys’ the chance to control them.
Owen and Claire are also the ‘parents of the new world’ in a more literal way: they adopt Maisie, the first human clone. She represents the radical change that Malcolm predicted, and just as they will need to take care of her, they will also need to take care of the actual new world that has been shaped by the return of the dinosaurs.
What else to say?
Let’s talk a bit about the Indoraptor, especially it being a metaphor for the worst human instincts:
He has no empathy, like some humans (like Mills, who thinks only of money); he’s attracted by war (represented by the laser); he’s black like sin (while the stripe is gold like money? And the buyers are attracted by money…); he’s symbolically pedophile and rapist (he chases the young girl Maisie, touching her ponytail in a creepy way at one point). Maybe that’s why the writers chose him to be male?
Speaking of empathy: remember that baby Blue tried to comfort Owen when he was showing signs of weakness? The Indoraptor clearly sees weakness in Ken Wheatley after he loses his arm, but the hybrid doesn’t show any kind of mercy.
On the roof, it roars at the moon like a wolf-man (humans that, in fiction, lose their control and transform into wolves, losing what makes them human, and so their empathy, making them blood-thirsty). The Indoraptor might indeed be, as I said already, a representation of humanity at its worst.
But another interesting thing is that the Indoraptor enjoys seeing humans making war and destroying each other (like humanity often does), during the scene in which Owen and the Stiggy fight at the auction. The humans become the attraction, inverting their usual role. In fact, roles are inverted more than once in this movie. There’s a scene in at least three of the Jurassic movies in which a pack of raptors surrounds the humans; in Fallen Kingdom, a group of hunters surround Blue. We see humans in cages, people going to the island to save the dinosaurs and not just other people, etc…
But there are also some clichés, typical of the Jurassic movies, that I actually enjoy.
Claire appears first, with the same shot that starts from the heels and goes up to her face in an elevator. (This time, though, the doors don’t open quite so well.) Someone asks her to call Owen, she drives to him, and they talk about their romantic life before serious dinosaur stuff, just like in Jurassic World.
There’s always a military guy who’s evil and betrays the main characters; there’s always a scene in which Owen touches Blue (also, in the end, when Blue goes away, it’s like the same moment from the previous entry, although somewhat opposite this time around, since Owen wanted her to stay.)
We have a very sad sauropod death scene; there’s a twist, this time more mind-blowing than, ‘That thing is part raptor…’ (which I actually liked at the time, anyway); there’s a guy who’s a bit of a nerd, but then finds the courage to do brave things (Lowery/Franklin); we have a guy who enters a dinosaur’s cage when he shouldn’t; there’s the final, epic dinosaur fight.
And we have the ending scene with triumphant music and a dinosaur roaring at the sunset.
Is it bad to have clichés typical of this franchise? In my opinion, it’s not bad at all. I love the Back to the Future sequels because of the recurring themes: identical scenes play in each sequel, but in different ages, within a new context.
The same sort of thing happens here, and it is one aspect that makes the Jurassic movies instantly recognisable. Just seeing ‘ISLA NUBLAR — 120 MILES WEST OF COSTA RICA’ got me so emotional… who cares if it appears in each movie of the series?
There’s strong use of foreshadowing in the story, especially about Maisie being a clone like the dinosaurs. She first appears running fast like a dinosaur in order to scare Iris. She even roars at her and imagines, as she plays, journeying through the Mesozoic period. When Lockwood talks about her mother, he says, ‘You could be her mirror image.’
Again, when in the secret lab, Maisie is sometimes seen near genetic symbols or the dinosaurs eggs; later, the Indoraptor’s creepy mouth is reflected over her face in a pane of glass, and her placeholder name, during the casting call period, was Lucy. Could this be a reference to the australopithecus? (First human, first clone.) Malcolm, at the end, warns that too many ‘red lines’ have been crossed — Maisie, at one point of the movie, literally crosses a red line painted on the floor in front of the Indoraptor cage.
This is also a movie about life breaking free, about breaking walls. Stiggy breaks a wall, the Indoraptor breaks through the glass, Owen breaks the ‘fourth wall’ in the car at the end, when he stares at the camera. There’s no containment anymore. No fences, no control. Life has found a way, and man has to face the consequences of it.
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is also a really entertaining movie, with some of the best directed sequences of the franchise, gorgeous cinematography, very good acting, and a fantastic musical score that sparingly uses the series’ classic themes when they’re needed but manages to deliver some great new ones that really leave an impression, thanks, especially, to wonderful use of a choir.
The dinosaurs look amazing, with a great blend of CGI and animatronics; the sound is perfect (the Indoraptor sometimes makes some kind of twisted version of the velociraptors’ typical bark), and, overall, the film is highly re-watchable. It gets scary a few times towards the end (the shot of the Indoraptor reaching towards Maisie in her bed, an metaphor for monsters chasing kids in their nightmares, will soon become one of the most iconic shots of the franchise), but it’s also funny thanks to the comedic energy of Chris Pratt, Justice Smith and Daniella Pineda.
Thanks to good performances from their actors, supporting characters like Dr. Wu (who I hope to see having a larger role in the last chapter of this new trilogy), Gunnar Eversol, Ken Wheatley and Iris are all great to watch.
We get to see new dinosaurs like the Carnotaurus (beautiful-looking in this film), the Baryonyx (protagonist, or antagonist, of one of the main action set pieces on Nublar), the Stygimoloch (or Stiggy), the Allosaurus (who looks so vicious, and I like that), the Sinoceratops (loved the fight against the Carnotaurus), and probably others that I can’t remember right now.
It’s a film that kids are going to love. They will grow up with these Jurassic World movies, just like we grew up with the Jurassic Park ones. But they’re also movies for adults, filled with allegories, symbolism, strong messages, cautionary warnings, deep ethical dilemmas… and what about the next (and final) chapter of this new journey?
Time will tell. So far, we can only wait, and think back on that one line from the past…
“Dinosaurs and man, two species separated by sixty-five million years of evolution, have just been suddenly thrown back into the mix together. How can we possibly have the slightest idea of what to expect?”
Colin Trevorrow himself once said that this line of Dr Grant’s was the basis of Fallen Kingdom. He wasn’t lying.
I wonder if the basis of Jurassic World 3, a story about dinosaurs sharing the Earth with humans, will be another quote by the director, something much shorter (more like a tag line), but still very effective…
… ‘Evolve or perish.’