Summary of GTA Series

I apparently never summarized this series when I originally prepared it, so, as I’ve been reorganizing some things following the conclusion of my most recent series, I wanted to get this a little more orderly. Here’s the series:

For the sake of completeness, I’m also linking to my much older post discussing the filmic influences on the games.

Jurassic Park Series Summary

This Jurassic Park / World series of posts finally meets its end. I had fun with it, and I’m also glad to be returning to the roulette of random topics for future posts. Especially since this series had some off-topic posts intermingled over the many weeks since this began, a list of all the final individual posts seems useful. So, to recap, I wrote:

  1. The initial introduction;
  2. A comparison of the first novel and the first film;
  3. What I love about the largely panned sequel;
  4. How I’ve come to accept the third movie, flaws and all;
  5. A review of Blue’s character arc;
  6. Which themes made The Battle at Big Rock so exciting to me;
  7. A reading of the Jurassic Park films as metaphors for family trauma;
  8. Gap stories I’d like to see, or a list of fan fiction projects I’ll probably never get around to; and
  9. What’s on my mind about Dominion as we draw closer to its release.

Review: The Suicide Squad

Today’s another interruption in the series of planned posts because I want to shout about The Suicide Squad. Dang, what a fun experience! If you’ve liked Guardians of the Galaxy, R-rated superhero movies, John Ostrander’s ’80s Suicide Squad comics, war movies, or the first Suicide Squad flick, you should find something to enjoy here. (I check a lot of those boxes but only started reading Ostrander’s series after watching the new movie–I’m up to issue 14 as of this writing, and I’m loving the experience.)

I’m very confident that no one’s going to ever claim that I have great taste in movies. As such, I’m sure no one is surprised that I mostly liked David Ayer’s Suicide Squad, and I also suspect that my soft spot for the movie isn’t likely to change any minds anytime soon. But after watching James Gunn’s crack at the squad, I’m overwhelmed with the realization that the premise and cast deserved much better writing and direction from the beginning. The characters who carry over from the original make this especially clear. Data point one: Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn is a delightful chaos agent, more in the spirit of her depiction in Birds of Prey in autonomy and antics than the over-sexualized, under-dressed (but still well-acted and quirky) lead of the Ayer effort. She’s given more to do, but to be fair, Robbie’s portrayal of the character is consistent, not a dramatic overhaul. Data point two is what blew me away though: Joel Kinnaman was a generic, asshole commando type in the first Squad, but he gives a delightful and distinctive performance as Rick Flag this time around, charming and with excellent comedic timing and delivery, with enough emotional range to carry the heavier scenes too. Where was this Flag before? I wasn’t otherwise familiar with Kinnaman and had no idea he had this sort of performance in him! Third data point is Viola Davis as Amanda Waller, who similarly is given more to do than simply being cold as ice and intriguingly mysterious. And the final data point: Jai Courtney’s Captain Boomerang continued to delight me with his smarmy shitbaggery, but this time he was a little less one-note (only so much mileage to get out of Ayer’s pink unicorn joke, for instance).

It’s not just the returning actors offering improved performances, though. There are some great portrayals here from Idris Elba, John Cena (playing the incredibly hateable Peacemaker), David Dastmalchian, and Daniela Melchior were all excellent. I never expected that my favorite character would be someone named “Ratcatcher 2,” but Melchior’s presentation of intermingled naïve good-heartedness and deep-rooted trauma made her very easy to root for. Oh, and Sylvester Stallone’s voice-acting for King Shark makes for an adorable dullard you hope makes it out okay even as he’s gorily devouring his opponents.

This movie is also incredibly funny. I laughed so very, very much in the first fifteen minutes–before being shocked into awkward silence as so many of the squad members are eradicated in a botched beach assault. The movie would often alternate between goofy antics, hyperviolence, and emotional heart. I was shocked by some early deaths, not just shocked by how they happened but by who was killed, and this rattled me out of certain expectations. From that moment on, I feared that any of the characters could die. Even Harley Quinn, whose massive popularity surely provides IP, if not plot, armor, was genuinely imperiled at times. The balance between light and dark, humor and horror, and sentimentality and gore worked for me, but I’m sure that not everyone will agree.

I certainly had a good time and will probably watch it again soon!

Review: Sweet Tooth

I watched Sweet Tooth and loved it. This probably comes as no surprise, after my “Two Apocalypses” post–Sweet Tooth is a post-apocalyptic story with a lot of heart and warmth. (And, just as with the adaptation of Jupiter’s Legacy from Mark Millar’s work, the tone of the series appears to be more positive than that of the originating comic by Jeff Lemire, so that’s yet another comic series I probably won’t pick up despite loving the show.)

For those who don’t know, Sweet Tooth is set in a world that has fallen apart after the rise of two simultaneous (and potentially related) events: a highly infectious and lethal illness and the birth of human-animal hybrid babies. Both lack a clear cause or explanation. Years have passed since society came crumbling down, and the show follows a young deer-hybrid boy, Gus (Christian Convery), who lives alone in a national park with his father (Will Forte). Gus breaks one of his father’s rules: don’t leave the fence. This sets in motion a chain of events that results in his father’s death and sends Gus on a journey across states to attempt to locate his mother, escorted by his reluctant guardian, bounty hunter Tommy Jepperd (Nonso Anozie). As the show progresses, the scope broadens to include the stories of a retired and traumatized doctor, Aditya Singh (Adeel Akhtar), who tends to his wife, Rani (Aliza Vellani), a somewhat miraculous non-infectious survivor living with a chronic version of the Sick; Aimee (Dania Ramirez), a former therapist who sets up a preserve for hunted hybrid children with her young adopted pig-hybrid daughter Wendy (Naledi Murray); Bear (Stefania LaVie Owen), the teenage leader of an adolescent army of guerilla warriors fighting to free captured hybrids under assumed animal identities who spend their downtime in a sort of Neverland; and the sinister pro-human, anti-hybrid, dictatorial leader of the Last Men, General Abbot (Neil Sandilands), whose objectives and military forces gradually coalesce the various subplots together. All this is tied loosely together with a voice-over narrative provided by James Brolin, probably the only thing I didn’t like about the show, as he drawls out various clichés and uninteresting observations that appear intended to sound profound.

While all the acting is great, the charisma and chemistry of the eventual trio of protagonists–Gus, Jepperd, and Bear–really kept me invested. The casting director, Carmen Cuba, found a remarkable talent in Christian Convery, who manages to convey so much emotional complexity in his role as Gus, and on top of that casually manifests such deer-like body language (further aided with some amazingly expressive prosthetic deer ears). How much of that presentation is due to Convery’s natural abilities versus the directorial input of series directors Jim Mickle, Toa Fracer, and Robyn Grace? Impossible for me to know, but I was genuinely impressed by the talent here, especially the younger actors, given how hit-and-miss child actors can be (and to be fair, child actors haven’t had access to the same range of experiences to draw on yet, which makes Convery’s performance that much more impressive).

The series’ eight episodes provide plenty of drama, unfolding mystery, and action to keep just about any viewer engaged. Given the coming-of-age narrative for younger children, it’s clear that the show is aimed at a family audience, but it certainly has a lot of darker, more mature themes, and it certainly provides plenty to hook an adult viewer. In fitting with the family audience demographic, while violence and death are present in the show, it typically avoids very graphic depictions of violence, relying more on suggestion.

The ending is very much so a cliffhanger, with equal parts heartache and hope. I’ll be devastated if we don’t get a season two!

Final thoughts: Bobby, the little groundhog-hybrid portrayed with an absolutely charming puppet, is a true standout once he makes an appearance.

Review: Jupiter’s Legacy

Very much so connected with last week’s post, I typically find myself turned off by Mark Millar’s original comics, but the screen adaptations turn out enjoyable enough. Kick-Ass, for instance, remains brutal and violent in film but has more heart than the savage world portrayed in the original narrative. I found that I rather enjoyed the new television adaptation of Jupiter’s Legacy on Netflix, and while I have never read Millar’s original comic version, a casual review of plot summaries suggests that this would be yet another instance of favoring the adaptation over the original. I’ll set that aside, though.

What I really liked about Jupiter’s Legacy (the show) is that it provided a unique, consolidated history of superheroes in its own universe that all centered around family and legacy. Its tackling of two mysteries in two distinct time periods, one focusing on the origin of the superpowers for the founding members of the Union of Justice and the other on the contemporary mystery of how a notorious and now-quite-lethal supervillain has apparently been duplicated, provides for ongoing suspense even as it slowly fleshes out its lengthy history between 1929 and the present. Both of these narratives ultimately come together to highlight the tensions between the old ways of the classic heroes with their idealistic code and the demand for change by newer heroes in reaction to a more murderous direction taken by their supervillain foes.

That broad focus on fictional superhero history and philosophy used to fuel a fundamentally ethical conundrum about the use of lethal force is given considerably more human grounding by focusing on the families of the original team members. The children of the Utopian and Lady Liberty chafe under the code and their lives in the shadows of superhero legends; one is the catalyst of the entire debate about the code, while the other has alienated herself from her superpowered family and friends, instead choosing a life of high fashion and debauchery. Meanwhile, children of other founding members have their own legacies to cope with and decisions to make in the wake of recent events. There are a lot of moving parts, but this focus on familial relationships gives us a framework for personal investment.

I’m interested in a second season because I want to see where the big mystery in the contemporary timeline, with its season-ending twist reveal, leads, but also because I want to see what the original heroes were like as they operated throughout the mid-twentieth century. It would be interesting to see how they navigated around political entanglement during the wars and other crises of the times, how this setting deals with costumed superheroes during the Cold War, how other superpowered individuals emerged, and how people began to turn to supervillainy.

There are a few things, however, that do bother me about the show so far. First, while the cast is somewhat diverse, the primary protagonists are overwhelmingly white, issues of race have been handled unevenly in the 1930s setting so far, and a disproportionate number of people of color have been killed. Second, while a rather minor point, the greatly extended lifespans of the original Union go unremarked-upon, which isn’t a gamebreaker in and of itself, but it does make it difficult to understand why they waited so long in life to have children; they all seemed to have decided to have kids in their eighties or nineties, for some reason, and that’s more bizarre to me than simply having unnaturally lengthened lives. Third and finally, the Union is clearly analogous to the Justice League, despite key differences, and this invites comparison to DC’s Kingdom Come, which just reminds me what a tremendously better story that was. I’d rather see a Kingdom Come adaptation!

That said, I like Jupiter’s Legacy, and I’d happily take more of it. Even with what must now be dozens of superhero shows out there to stream, this offers something fresh.

Two Apocalypses

I think I’ve demonstrated by now that I have great fondness for animation, and I tend to prefer an optimistic and positive outlook in fiction. As such, it should come as no surprise that I rather enjoyed The Mitchells vs. The Machines. Despite ostensibly being a family-friendly movie about a robot apocalypse, it’s really an action comedy that at its heart is about a somewhat dysfunctional nuclear family finding ways to practice empathy to understand each other better and repair the faults in their relationships. The animation was fantastic, the art style had a lot of quirky flair, the voice acting was top-notch (though the younger brother was very distractingly voiced as Not A Child), the writing was sparkling with humor, there were some tremendously silly-yet-epic action sequences, and yet what stuck with me was the family’s struggle to bond and eventual ability to reconnect as the oldest daughter prepares to leave the home for college.

I could perhaps force myself to write a larger review of The Mitchells vs. The Machines. And I had originally planned to do so. But I write enough reviews already for a personal blog. What I found more interesting was what this movie says about me and my values, especially in contrast to the even-more-recently-released Army of the Dead. The latter film, a Zack Snyder feature, is nihilistic and amoral, unconcerned with presenting a clear message. The characters are broad tropes, entertaining at first but just blank enough that it is unsurprising when they die off one by one. Snyder ends his film by allowing two characters to survive–one sure to die but perhaps only after setting off yet another zombie outbreak. The film delights in stylized violence and gore, in big sweeping frames of zombie hordes rallying to battle, and I suppose I should expect as much and nothing more from a Snyder flick (although I’m one of those true believers in the artistry of Snyder’s directorial vision in his DC superhero movies, despite my reservations about that dubious distinction).

It is probably not very surprising to those who know me or have otherwise read this blog for a while that I am really disturbed by depictions of gore or prolonged physical torment. I don’t have the stomach for it. So zombie movies are usually outside of what I’ll watch. There are exceptions, just as there are exceptions to my general avoidance of the horror genre as a whole. I’d made the poor decision to make an exception for Army of the Dead just because of Snyder’s association with the project, coupled with the trailers that suggested this might be a little bit of a winking farce. I was clearly very mistaken, but I stuck the movie out, despite its bloated length for something that boils down to a story about a team of mercenaries fighting their way into a zombie-infested Las Vegas for a big score of abandoned loot and then failing to fight their way out.

What I want to emphasize, though, is that it wasn’t the gore that turned me off to this movie. That would be an easy, and wrong, assumption to make. No, it’s not as simple as Eric Can’t Handle Scary Gross Things. Rather, it’s the emptiness at the heart of the film. They’re fighting and dying for money, dealing with repeated betrayals, in the final moments before a nuclear strike makes the zombie threat irrelevant–or, you know, it would have become irrelevant if not for their fucked-up heist attempt and resultant infected survivor. The characters have no larger goals to fight for. Found family tropes are used sparingly, presumably in an attempt to make you care about the doomed team’s fates, and you could argue that this is a movie about a father reconnecting with his daughter–but if so, that fails too. The father and daughter don’t reconnect. The father dies saving the daughter, who was only at risk, at the end of the day, because her father got her involved in the first place. I refuse to accept that the daughter’s grief over losing her father–and having to put his zombified form down–represents a healing of the relationship. There is no relationship. The father failed to fix that relationship, only managed to even understand how he had screwed up their relationship toward the very end, barely managed to save the daughter but saddled her with a lot more trauma, and doomed everyone else on the team.

That’s a much darker, more depressing version of the apocalypse than a movie in which the tropes of apocalypse are used to metaphorically represent the fracturing and healing of family bonds as children mature and leave the home. And that movie about family, hell, it has an actual theme, an actual message, something to think on afterward. Something more than we can all be assholes or the desire for wealth makes us make bad choices or people can die at any time as life is unfair or some other tired trope requiring no deeper examination.

I don’t need happy endings or family-friendly ratings to appease me, though. The first two Alien movies rank high among my favorite sci-fi movies, despite their thematic (and literal) darkness, violence, and gore. Yes, they’re well-crafted movies with great special effects, distinctive settings, and actors that manage to sell the sheer horror and despair of the situation. But they’re also about scrappy, normal humans fighting for something bigger than themselves. In the first film, the team of blue-collar workers tries to clear out the xenomorph to keep each other alive. Sure, only Ripley makes it out, but not for lack of trying–and she even makes a point of returning for the cat! Then, in Aliens, she’s willing to join an expedition back to the planet that doomed her crew because she wants to ensure that any remaining threat is eliminated. And even despite her trauma and loss, she fights to save who she can. The suggestion of a found family in Newt, Hicks, and Bishop gives the movie some heart even amongst all the death. On the flip side, it’s one of two reasons that I’ve never been a fan of Alien 3. First, Ripley once again loses everyone she cares about in the opening moments of the movie. Second, she dies not fighting for someone but only against the threat of the xenomorph queen in her that would have killed her anyway (not to mention that even this sacrifice is undone in yet another sequel with Alien Resurrection).

Look, I get it. There are evil people who do evil things in the world. And many more people often make selfish, self-serving, amoral choices. And good does not always triumph over evil; evil often wins. Evil still wins day to day, in oppressive and corrupt systems of governance and in small-minded bigotry and in interpersonal hostility and in petty crime. But I try to act on my principles, and I like to look to people who made a difference by acting on their principles, and while I make many mistakes I still have something I strive for. I get that the world can be a dark place, and I don’t think it’s wrong that there is art, dumb and smart, that is dark and nihilistic. But nihilism repulses me, and even in darkness I look for light, I look for principles and guiding purpose, I look for what people are fighting for and not just the odds they’re fighting against. I’m uncomfortable with settling for meaninglessness. Maybe some people, maybe many people, think that reflects a naivete on my part. Maybe that’s what it really does mean. But I will still always favor stories that have heart, that have purpose, that aren’t just showcases of loss and suffering.

To be clear, I’m not trying to snipe at the horror genre as a whole. But Army of the Dead–which really isn’t a horror film, despite the use of zombies–uniquely highlighted the unsettling hollowness I find when pop art portrays atrocities for their own sake. Most fiction has some level of escapism baked in, anyhow. Please don’t begrudge me how I choose to escape.

Review: Making Contact

Making Contact: Preparing for the New Realities of Extraterrestrial Existence by Alan Steinfeld

My rating: 1 of 5 stars


I was provided an advanced copy of Making Contact, apparently because of my interest in the much better UFOs: Generals, Pilots and Government Officials Go on the Record by Leslie Kean. Making Contact is a book for true believers only, those already caught up in the mythology of conspiracy theories, alien abductions, and interdimensional communication. Only the especially credulous, already well-versed in the layers of contradictory alien contact lore, could truly enjoy this book. As such, this is a case where the book is just a bad fit for me.

But I unfortunately have to discourage anyone else from reading. We live in an age in which misinformation spreads rapidly and easily, and this book represents exactly the sort of dangerous misinformation we should be avoiding. People without strong critical thinking skills might be persuaded, for instance, by the chapter in this book written by social scientists misexplaining and misapplying complex hard science fields like quantum physics to justify disjointed narratives of alien/UFO superpowers.

I’d also suggest that this book is the sort of thing that undermines any real interest in engaging seriously with the phenomenon of unidentified flying objects. I’m sure there’s an explanation for those 5% of sightings that can’t be explained currently even with sufficient data about the sighting, and that explanation may not be very interesting but it would still be worthwhile to know. I’d love to see serious research into that phenomenon. But why would any serious scientist want to touch the subject if the people shouting most loudly about it also insist that the mere existence of UFOs indicates interstellar or interdimensional beings visiting us not-so-surreptitiously on Earth? What legitimate researcher would bother to think there’s anything there if they’re always hearing about the phenomenon in the context of stories about alien abductions, mystical energy fields, telepathic contactees, and elaborate but entirely unsupported conspiracy theories?

Furthermore, the book feels a bit rushed, perhaps because of the need to put something out in advance of the release to the public of the DOD report on UFOs that should be made available by the end of June. Of course, since this book’s publication, it’s become pretty clear that the report, as per usual, cannot definitively state what the phenomenon is. That’s to be expected and not reflective of a conspiracy but just the reality that it’s hard to verify every case of something strange seen in the sky after the fact. But of course, the essays included in the book seem to believe that this is all part of a rolling buildup to full Disclosure, the almost Rapture-level event anticipated in the far-out ufology community in which the government will come clean and reveal the full depths of contact with extraterrestrials, complete with revelations about its sordid history of involvement with benevolent and malevolent ETs and their remarkable technologies.

It’s a shame, too, because not all of the essays are bad. Nick Pope’s essay, while increasingly speculative toward the end, is actually a very level take on the UFO phenomenon and rather clearly and logically explains why it’s very unlikely that there’s any big government conspiracy at all. A transcript of a talk by the late psychiatrist and alien abduction researcher John Mack offered a nuanced accounting of his work and speculation about what it could mean–and while it’s certainly not a convincing argument for legitimate alien abduction occurrences, it’s an interesting reminder that these experiences are very real to the people reporting them. Finally, the book excerpt by famous abductee/writer Whitley Strieber and the fascinatingly fragmented and abstract essay by abductee/performer Henrietta Weekes were interesting insights into the perspectives of those actually reporting an “alien abduction” experience. I think it’s notable that the essays I’ve cited downplay the significance of the actual UFO phenomenon and put more weight into subjective experience related to a separate phenomenon, that of the reported alien abduction, experiences that seem very real to the alleged abductees. However, I think it would be far more interesting to read about the experience as a psychosocial phenomenon, rather than as further support for those desperately looking for proof of alien contact, no matter how incompatible the various sources of evidence.

I’d suggest looking for writings by Pope, Mack, Strieber, or Weekes outside of this anthology, where they can be engaged with (even if not accepted/believed) on their own terms.

View all my reviews

Finally, if you’re interested in reading something worthwhile on the history of investigation into the UFO phenomenon, I’d strongly recommend the April 30th essay “How the Pentagon Started Taking U.F.O.s Seriously” by Gideon Lewis-Kraus on The New Yorker.

Review: Camp Cretaceous Season 3

Camp Cretaceous returned on May 21st with a 10-part third season, and I found it to be an improvement over the sophomore round in just about every way. While–spoiler alert–the kids more or less retain plot armor, they are pushed more than ever before, and their lives are threatened and the stakes are higher than ever.

We’re reunited with the Camp Fam as they fail yet another attempt to escape the island and literally return to the drawing board. They’ve fallen into a “comfortable” routine on the island. They know how to survive its prehistoric hazards. They’ve had enough time without the constant threat of death to form some cozy bonds and petty rivalries. But things soon take a turn for the worse, as the escaped hybrid only hinted at in the last season begins to wreak havoc on the neo-Mesozoic ecosystem. The kids suddenly find the park animals acting erratically and dangerously, and they’re hunted by an antisocial killing machine that doesn’t act in a predictable way. Added to the mix, we–and they–learn that six months have passed since the events of Jurassic World, and mercenary teams soon arrive with Dr. Wu to recover needed genetic materials and research for his continued hybridization projects. (We’re introduced to that last element in one of the best sequences in the season, which directly dovetails with the opening moments of Fallen Kingdom.) The kids are torn between the need to escape, the drive to stop Dr. Wu from furthering his amoral research, and the hope of saving the dinosaurs from re-extinction at the claws of the loose hybrid monster on the island.

All the kids have satisfying arcs this time around, without the frustrating tendency to regress at key dramatic moments that was so common in the earlier seasons. They have history together now, and the show built on and used that to further challenge the characters, rather than tonally resetting them at times to create convenient interrelationship tension. Once more, though, the highlight of the season for me was Ben, who matured so much over season two and now is really struggling with the idea of leaving the island and his beloved Bumpy behind. It was a fun way to continue pushing on this character. He didn’t need to overcome fear; he’d conquered that. He didn’t need to develop independence or survival skills; he was already forced to do so. He’s loyal and strong. His weakness now lies in his rashness, in sometimes being a little too independent, and being uncertain about his ability to give his new life up and return to normal.

The art and animation look better than ever. Once more, we get additional prehistoric reptiles added to the field: setting aside the hybrid freak, this season sees a return of the Dimorphodons from Fallen Kingdom, and new-to-the-franchise Monolophosaurus and Ouranosaurus also show up. The dinosaurs look great. There aren’t any conspicuously big, flat plains sequences with reused dinosaur assets just standing about. Their animation makes them seem physically present, although at this point the show seems to have leaned into the whole pseudo-claymation aesthetic. The human character models are about the same, but environmental effects, like lighting, seem improved, and the show definitely shows an attention to detail in tracking continuity in clothing changes, dirt and grime, and even simple things like Brooklynn’s roots growing out as time has passed.

The hybrid dinosaur looks like an impressively disturbing monstrous first stab at creating the sort of creatures that could become Indominus or Indoraptor. But this new “original” hybrid, Scorpios, is also somewhat revolting to look at. Its proportions, its movements, are all off. It’s an effective monster, and its presence pushed the plot forward, but I sure hope this is truly the last hybrid we see (you know, outside of the fact that all the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park are hybrids that don’t look exactly like their real-life counterparts because, in-universe, they used DNA from sources like frogs to fill the gaps in the sequences).

There’s one dinosaur return I wasn’t expecting: that of Blue. This could have been heavy-handed, but she’s used sparingly, and it actually turned out to be a nice encounter in which this unique Velociraptor, established to have special characteristics of intelligence and empathy, is given a reason to develop some wary trust of humans. It’s not a necessary foundational step to her sparing Owen and his friends at the end of Fallen Kingdom, but it works as a little stepping stone on the path to that moment, with the ground having been laid, of course, by Owen himself as her trainer.

This season has bigger stakes, clearer theme and purpose, deeper character development, further improved art and animation, and direct continuity with the film universe that gives it a sense of greater relevance. It’s a high point for the show so far, and I hope that it continues for at least another season.


Quick season-end spoiler discussion here. They’re finally off the island, but it seems a certain predator might be hidden away aboard the ship. If there isn’t another season, that leaves some dire implications. After all, they have a flash drive showing Dr. Wu’s research, and they have every desire to see him face justice. And they know that he was back on the island in an attempt to continue his research. But he seems to have evaded any serious consequences and successfully escaped any scrutiny about ongoing research by the time of Fallen Kingdom.

On the other hand, it’s probably worth noting that the Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom Survival Guide reports that “Dr. Henry Wu was found guilty of bioethical misconduct and stripped of all his credentials” (p. 20). I’m not sure that this line in a tie-in book aimed at kids substantiates that he did face some sort of penalties; it’s also not clear to me exactly what specific crimes he was found guilty of, or by what sort of judicial system. Again, given the audience, and given the fact that the in-universe nature of the text is that of a guide quickly assembled on last-minute notice by Claire Dearing for her Dinosaur Protection Group team before their Lockwood Foundation-backed mission to Isla Nublar, it could just be an inaccurate turn of phrase that might refer to a finding of fault in some sort of civil proceeding, or perhaps a finding of ethical misconduct by a professional board. It would be satisfying if the kids’ efforts led to some of these suggested consequences.

Given that we last see the kids aboard a yacht in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a perhaps hungry mystery dinosaur trapped on board, there’s not a guarantee that they meet a happy end! Of course, even without another season, we could come up with alternatives to address this ambiguity, even if it turns out that Dr. Wu never did face serious consequences between films. Perhaps something happens to the disc but they’re okay. Perhaps, like in the original Jurassic Park novel, the Costa Rican government detains these survivors and attempts to cover things up to save further international embarrassment. Perhaps their findings aren’t enough to persuade any governing body to take action. Perhaps it’s something else entirely! I’m sure the show won’t kill the kids and isn’t considering that as a serious outcome, but it’s still enough for me to anxiously await the next season.

(For a bit of a reality check and some reassurance about the fates of these kids and their left-behind pet dinosaur, and actually for some interesting thoughts from Colin Trevorrow in general, read this from The Hollywood Reporter.)