Jurassic World Rebirth is, spiritually, a Jurassic Park film – not a World one. The distinction matters. Ever since the 2015 reboot attempted to expand the boundaries of Michael Crichton’s tooth-and-clawed warning against man’s follies, the franchise has spiralled increasingly out of control. At first, it was Chris Pratt as a navy veteran turned raptor wrangler, then suddenly we had human clones and an expansive plotline about very big locusts.
Jurassic Park is, at its heart, merely a different brand of slasher film, where the killer has been previously extinct for 65 million years. And slasher sequels have a tendency to just restock the fridge of victims and carry on as usual. Rebirth pretty much does just that. It’s exactly where we should be – back to basics, with a boat full of broad but fun archetypes sailing up to a dinosaur-infested island, and then systematically being chomped on.
