I have a false memory about The Lost World, before the movie even came out. I distinctly remember Velociraptors running through a field alongside a train in what appeared to be rural America. Where’d I get this image from? A dream? A misinterpretation of a trailer? It doesn’t matter. It’s not real, didn’t happen. But even before the movie came out, I remember hoping that dinosaurs would end up on the mainland. When the freighter plows into the dock and the scattered remains of its crew are discovered, I thought maybe this would mean that raptors had snuck aboard and would now wreak havoc along with the Tyrannosaurus. Of course, this was not to be. But because of that specific hope, the difficulty of understanding exactly how the freighter crew was killed off has stood out to me more. If not the raptors, then how did it happen? The juvenile was taken back separately. The buck was in the cargo hold. How did such a large animal get its jaws into the pilothouse, wrenching some poor soul free from a hand that remained firmly clutched to the wheel? Why did it kill the crewmember who closed the cargo hold back on it but left the body apparently undisturbed? And how did the crewmember survive long enough to close the hold? For that matter, why would the Tyrannosaurus voluntarily return to the hold? The pilothouse, more than anything else, stands out to me, because while normally presented in narrow angles, there’s every indication that it’s closed off to the outside and undamaged.
All that to say, I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of a gap story that fills in what happened. I think it’d be fun to have a private investigator hired by one of the family of the lost crew to investigate events. Perhaps this leads to the discovery that more than the Tyrannosaurus was aboard the freighter. Perhaps he encounters disinterested police officials and active resistance from InGen execs determined to minimize the already disastrous events in San Diego. Maybe he runs into a pack of escaped raptors–or something else entirely! I imagine it as a bit of Chinatown meets Jurassic Park.
But there are other stories I’d like to see (or create myself, in the form of a little fan fiction). There are a few moments not relevant to the films that could offer gung-ho action-adventure. For instance, the Dinosaur Protection Group site has in-universe documentation dated October 5, 1994 that reports current dinosaur population levels on Isla Nublar based on a “1994 clean-up” and estimated dinosaur population levels on Isla Nublar based on a 1993 report. So of course, following the mercenary team that went into the island and cleaned things up, collecting and containing and cataloguing surviving dinosaurs, would be an interesting story. TellTale’s Jurassic Park: The Game, which never really quite fit as a direct follow-up on eventsfrom Jurassic Park, doesn’t have a narrative that works well with the newer movies, and so that can safely be disregarded, leaving a big opening.
The list of dinosaurs on Isla Sorna is presumably similar to the report that Alan and Billy had reviewed before Jurassic Park III, in which the Spinosaurus was noticeably missing. That same Dinosaur Protection Group page I referenced earlier discusses the illegal creation of other dinosaurs that were abandoned on Site B, resulting in the rampaging Spinosaurus. The page says that the new research happened over nine months and started 100 days after InGen was purchased by Masrani Global, while another page says that bidding for InGen happened in 1997 and the illegally cloned animals were introduced in 1999. A story that chronicled the backroom dealings and unethical science, or the release/escape of the newly resurrected dinosaurs, would probably make for an interesting tale. And there’s another mercenary adventure story waiting to detail the recapturing of the escaped Pteranodons from Isla Sorna in 2001.
I imagine Henry Wu weaving his way through all of these stories: part of the efforts to contain the situation on Isla Nublar, returning from his shipboard evacuation of the island to collect valuable scientific information only to be shut out of further genetics efforts until brought in by Masrani for the illegal experiments in 1999 that I’d like to imagine had to be shut down when the Spinosaurus broke containment, and finally meeting up with Vic Hoskins, forming a fateful relationship that would prove pivotal in Jurassic World, when the ex-military man led the mission to collect the pterosaurs.
Then there are the stories that can happen post-Fallen Kingdom. I’ve already rattled off ideas before, but there’s one concept I’d sort of like to play with at some point. At its core, an enterprising rancher has gathered up a small herd of Gallimimus and plans to grow the herd. He soon encounters two threats: something is hunting his new flock of bird mimics at night, and a government investigator shows up to claim that he’s in illegal possession of contraband intellectual property. The two threats collide pretty quickly, deciding the fate of the rancher’s whole operation. I think there’s some mileage in that for a short story, at least.
Anyone else have any gap or side stories they’d want to see, or any fan fiction they’d like to point out?
The element that takes the Jurassic Park formula beyond simple action-adventure fun is the emphasis on human characters with flaws and clear arcs. That human emphasis has, whether intentionally or inadvertently, often resulted in movies with a subtext about family trauma. This is a topic I’ve thought and talked about intermittently on other platforms, but I want to try to develop it a little more here.
Most of the Park and World films are guided by a loss of family unity and a gradual rebuilding of family around kids. The pattern starts with Jurassic Park: Tim and Lex come to the island to get them away from their parents’ divorce. Through the events of the film, they bond with Grant, who starts out as someone who is very child-averse. As he guides them through the park safely and comes to care deeply about them, he’s addressing the issue in his own otherwise solid relationship with Sattler: she wants kids, but he couldn’t stand them. In the final helicopter flight out, Alan and Ellie share looks that express a great number of things: relief, gratitude, affection…but also there seems to be a shared recognition of how things have changed, as the kids rest against the man who starts out the movie terrifying a child merely out of slight annoyance over an offhanded remark. At least within the scope of the movie, the kids have found a new family, somewhat ironically formed around a man who never wanted one.
The Lost World continues the pattern. This time, Ian Malcolm’s daughter Kelly finds herself torn between separated parents. Her mother’s off on a trip with a new love interest. Her father, a habitual divorcé who’s never made time to nurture relationships with his (ex-)wives or kid(s), acts similarly disinterested in her and inconvenienced by her presence. Rather than be pawned off on one of her dad’s acquaintances, Kelly stows away to come along on his next expedition. The horrors of the island bring her to bond closely with Ian’s girlfriend, Sarah, and Ian finds renewed focus on the safety of both Sarah and Kelly. Ian repeatedly risks his life for both of them. This focus on protecting family ties in rather nicely with the threat from the Tyrannosaurus family that occupies the second and third acts of the film. Once more, the movie ends with a moment of peace for the reformed family, with Kelly, Sarah, and Ian all on the couch; in a reverse on the original, the child stays awake and watches over the sleeping adults.
Jurassic Park III once more finds much of the character motivations in a divorce. The Kirbys have divorced, Paul hasn’t really moved on while Amanda has, and their son Eric is caught in the middle. Eric gets stranded on Isla Sorna because of Amanda’s reckless “fun” boyfriend. The trauma of the island pushes Paul and Amanda back together, and the little nuclear family appears restored by the end of the film. In a separate arc, Grant and Sattler have remained friends but split up; Grant seems to slowly be reintroducing himself to Sattler’s new life of husband and child, but he feels out of place. Ellie insists that Alan can ask for help if he needs it. And by the end of the film, he’s able to do so in a moment of crisis, and she’s there for them. The dinosaurs get their family arc, too, as the Velociraptor pack is desperately pursuing their stolen eggs, and the Pteranodon flock attack to feed their offspring.
By this point, the recurrence of divorce and separation begins to feel somewhere between a fundamental franchise building block and a tired trope trotted out simply because it worked before. Either way, it’s back again in Jurassic World. Brothers Zach and Gray get sent to the titular theme park to visit their aunt Claire while their parents finalize a divorce back home. (Side note: I recall people complaining that the divorce reveal came from nowhere, but this is hinted at from as early as the airport departure scene, and the scene where Karen and Claire talk made that pretty clear to me even though it’s not explicitly stated until a little later on.) Even as their family falls apart, the brothers recommit to each other, and Zach changes his attitude from an aloof bully to a caring and supportive older brother. Claire’s arc echoes both John Hammond (as the most visible face of the park administration’s hubris and a more prominent figure than Masrani) and Alan Grant. From Grant, she gets the same apparent disinterest in kids or parenting, and her commitment to saving her nephews provides a somewhat similar arc, though bogged down in sexism: Grant undergoes an attitude change that is not required by society but simply a natural progression that resolves a tension in his romantic relationship, while Claire is nagged by her sister about how she’ll one day want to have children, stares longingly at a child reunited with their parent, is called out or treated differently because of her awkwardness with kids, and is operating within a larger societal notion that women should be guided by a desire to nurture and raise children. Regardless, while the arc had its missteps, I do believe the intent was to provide an arc that echoed Grant’s. Her relationship with the rugged Owen, from exes to romantic partners, suggests something of a collision of the Sarah/Ian and Amanda/Paul relationships from the other films, as well. Then, of course, as I recently wrote about at length, Owen’s relationship with Blue and the raptor pack provides the dinosaur family narrative for this entry in the series.
Finally, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is partially about people looking for connection and purpose after losing everything. Owen and Claire have split up and slowly reconnect, Owen is motivated to save his abandoned baby Blue, and Claire is guided by a desire to make right her failings at the park and feels deeply obligated to the dinosaurs she once saw as only “assets.” Lockwood fell out with business partner Hammond after using cloning technology to duplicate his deceased daughter. Over the course of the movie, that cloned girl, Maisie, learns the truth about her identity only after she discovers that her “grandfather” was killed by his not-so-loyal assistant. Once more, a family is formed by film’s end, this time between Owen, Claire, and Maisie. As all three characters are returning in Dominion, perhaps this new found family will be a little more permanent. And for the dinosaur family, Owen reunites with Blue, only to part ways once more by the end of the film.
Not only is this deconstruction and reformation of family structures so central to the movies’ narratives, but the movies themselves work as a metaphor for that family turmoil–as I suggested way back at the top. The dinosaurs are a vehicle for children’s wonder, amazement, and curiosity. Family and children were clearly on the mind of Michael Crichton when he wrote the original novel. As he’s quoted as saying in The Making of Jurassic Park:
My wife was pregnant with my first child, and I found that I couldn’t walk past a toy store without buying a stuffed toy. And what I was buying, more often than not, were stuffed dinosaurs. My wife couldn’t understand it. We knew we were having a girl. Why was I buying all these dinosaurs? And I would say, “Well, girls like dinosaurs, too.” But it was clear that I was sort of obsessed with dinosaurs; and the whole idea of children and dinosaurs, and the meaning of what that was, was just on my mind a lot during that period.
(Don Shay & Jody Duncan, p. 3)
Dr. Will Tattersdill, an academic researching the “social history of dinosaurs” in popular culture over the decades, has discussed how dinosaurs “mean a yearning for the past” and allow the observer to experience both human culture and natural history simultaneously. It’s interesting to consider that framework in recognizing that these movies start with characters, especially kids, yearning to connect with the dinosaurs, being awed by the dinosaurs, before the dinosaurs turn against them. The past isn’t enough to shield them from the crisis of the present, and in fact leads to that very crisis, the dissolution of the preexisting family.
It pains me to say that I can’t recall who said this or where it was printed, but I vaguely recall a comparison made between dinosaurs and children’s parents. Dinosaurs are big, objects of affection, at times terrifying, representative of a past before you existed, just as parents are to kids. A divorce or separation causes a considerable amount of chaos and confusion, if not outright trauma, for a young child, and these devoted caretakers also may inadvertently harm the child in the process of an especially bitter divorce. I think there’s something there in the Jurassic Park franchise, in that these kids admire the dinosaurs, the dinosaurs cause them harm, and they ultimately learn to coexist with the dinosaurs and survive. That evolution typically overlaps with the reformation of the family or the creation of a new found family.
At least to my eye, then, the experiences of the characters make literal the emotional harm and healing associated with the largely background family dynamics that inform the motivations and relationships central to every Jurassic Park movie.
I’ve never really cared for Jurassic Park III. It’s loud, dumb, and mean. It doesn’t truly do anything new. Once more, people return to an island full of dinosaurs, and bad things happen as a result. Sam Neill’s returning Alan Grant seems as fatigued with the tired cycle as the most cynical audience member, and that fatigue only grows as he puts up with surviving a dino-island yet again, accompanied by idiots. His shock and disbelief at having been tricked back onto one of these islands is matched by my own: it’s quite a contrived narrative that gets him there and in the predicament of once more standing down theropods.
But I’m not here to explain why I didn’t like Jurassic Park III. I’d imagine most people who have seen it could understand that well enough on their own. I’m here to explain how I came to tolerate it within the franchise.
The first step is distance. I return to these movies often enough, but it wasn’t too hard to leave III out of the rotation even as Jurassic World and Fallen Kingdom were added in. Yet I still did return to it, with enough time between viewings that my impression could become more muted and less annoyed.
The second step required me to let go of my frustrations as I gave up on my annoyance. And there were a lot of things that frustrated me: the aforementioned laborious way in which Dr. Grant is brought back, the obnoxious Kirbys, Billy’s fake-out death and abrupt return in the rushed final moments, the lackluster depictions of the dinosaurs, the super-monster version of Spinosaurus, the super-intelligent raptors, the mean-spiritedness of the deaths…Even petty things that aren’t inherently flaws within the film, like the writers’ decision to end Grant and Sattler’s relationship, with Ellie settling down to have kids and Alan refocusing on his digs in isolation. Just let it all go. I had to accept that those things exist in the movie and there’s nothing for me to do about it.
The third step was being goaded to return to the film by people who found things to like about it. And yes, there are things to like about it–it’s a technically impressive film if nothing else. Plus, hearing from people who like it and can re-contextualize some of its less-impressive elements can lead to a little altered, more forgiving perspective when viewing. That leads right into the next step.
The fourth step is reframing some of the things that used to bother me. For instance, it always bothered me that Eric Kirby, a 12-year-old kid, managed to survive alone on the island for weeks; his survival skills appeared to outmatch even Grant’s, whom he rescued, and he appears to have performed a series of death-defying stunts in his parents’ absence, for instance collecting fresh tyrannosaur piss or obtaining a claw from a Velociraptor. But the actual events in the movie can provide an implied narrative that isn’t so outlandish and is a little easier for me to suspend disbelief. Eric was lucky. He wandered onto the InGen site, finding a source of food, water, and shelter. The abandoned tanker truck made a perfectly secure abode that could be sealed from dinosaur threats. He didn’t spend his time becoming a hardened survivalist so much as simply hiding and staying out of the way. Maybe he happened to collect the tyrannosaur urine after having observed one of the tyrants passing nearby with compies scattering before it. Maybe the Velociraptor lost its claw in a fight with a rival or in taking down prey, and Eric just collected it later. When Grant is ambushed by the Velociraptors, it’s not because he screwed up; he was carrying their eggs, and he didn’t know it. They could smell them, surely, and their entire objective was in retrieving their brood. Eric then dashed in with his supply of gas grenades. Once more, it was luck that got Eric through. Clearly, the kid is tough, determined, and smart, but we don’t have to accept the notion that he’s the most badass member of the group.
The fifth step is pure happenstance. As this whole process was taking place, years–now literally decades–after the movie was released, I got really into Jurassic World: Evolution. And some of the coolest dinosaur skins in that game were based off models from Jurassic Park III. Most realistic? No. But coolest. The dinosaurs in that movie are really vibrant. I liked those models. It was a small thing, but it let me come around to their depiction in the movie.
The sixth and final step is to find the things I outright like in the movie and to focus on them. For instance, much of III is a big, fun safari adventure just like The Lost World but with a smaller cast and no rival team. This adventure narrative leads to some very cool action sequences, like the initial Spinosaurus attack, the Velociraptor-induced stampede, the boat attack, or the aviary ambush. And while the movie avoids moments of true wonder that balanced out the first two movies, it does at least have a beautiful aerial sequence when the rescue team first arrives, and there’s the slow-paced moment on the river right after Grant lays out his theory about boys who want to be astronomers versus astronauts. And yes, the raptors are way too smart at this point, and the males’ little fringe of quills was a poor nod to the developing notion that dinosaurs like them would have been feathered, but the elaborate communication was still interesting behavior, and it did serve as a further attempt to present the dinosaurs as animals, not monsters (even as that effort is undermined by the wildly inaccurate and hyper-aggressive Spinosaurus that is fixated on hunting down all humans). And okay, the movie has a mean streak, but it’s okay for the franchise to lean into horror a little more–Fallen Kingdom‘s gothic vibes are great–and anyway, wasn’t I just praising The Lost World for being a darker film?
And that’s how I’ve learned to tolerate Jurassic Park III. Of course, I don’t really need to go soft on a movie in a massive blockbuster franchise. But it’s a franchise I’m otherwise rather fond of, and it’s nice to actually enjoy a rewatch of that third entry.
Rotten Tomatoes has Jurassic Park at 92% fresh, in contrast to the rotten 53% of The Lost World and even worse 49% of Jurassic Park III. Clearly, among most critics there’s a widely agreed-upon loss in quality between the first film and its sequels–and audiences generally agreed as well. But while I recognize that The Lost World isn’t as good a movie as the original, I’m with the 53% of critics who had a generally favorable impression of the first sequel.
Part of my fondness for the film is pure nostalgia. I was only 8 years old when the movie released. By this point, I’d watched Jurassic Park many times on home video and played even more hours with an assortment of tie-in toys; I’d read the sequel novel by Michael Crichton (although, curiously, I wouldn’t read the original until a few years later); and while I no longer remember the particular entertainment magazine, I remember flipping through glossy photos of the actors, sets, and dinosaur animatronics while reading behind-the-scenes details in advance. While I had been very interested in Jurassic Park, I was a bit too young for it when it came out; I just loved dinosaurs, but the movie was initially a little too scary for me (I vividly remember covering my eyes the first time during the kitchen scene), and I certainly didn’t get to go see it in theaters. I was primed to love the newer movie in the full, over-eager way a kid can love anything, and with a nearly quadrupled promotional budget over the original, Universal was clearly doing everything in its power to burrow brand recognition and excitement into every young person’s head.
As I’ve aged, my views about the movie have shifted, but I’ve never been able to regard it too harshly. For what it is, it’s a lot of fun: a big, prehistoric safari for the first half that shifts to something resembling survival horror and ends with a King Kong– or kaiju-style monster rampage through San Diego.
The cast is truly great, too. Jeff Goldblum’s return as Ian Malcolm, now the lead protagonist, offers a new spin on the character, who has gone from rock star to worn-out dad. I like that the movie inverts his role within the narrative, especially as it builds on the trauma he endured at the park. I also like that Malcolm is prominently confronted by the consequences of his former cavalier attitude toward women and relationships. Then there’s Julianne Moore, who’s great in everything, as not only an adventurous paleontologist but a sort of maternal force: Sarah Harding argues that dinosaurs nurtured their young and views the island as a way to test her views, she’s supportive of Kelly in a way that Ian isn’t, she attempts to care for the wounded juvenile tyrannosaur, and she protects Kelly when the adult tyrannosaurs show up in the camp site. Pete Postlethwaite is shockingly sympathetic for a poacher, with his wearied no-nonsense attitude in working for yet another rich idiot, his concern for the injured, his focus on problem-solving and willingness to set aside a grudge, his quixotic quest to be the best hunter on the planet, and his eventual separation from the mercenary lifestyle that all together suggest an inner nobility guided by self-imposed rules of honor, like some modern-day knight. Richard Schiff plays loveable tech geek Eddie Carr, completely out of his element but a downright good guy who sacrifices his life for his colleagues (in a truly horrific death that deeply disturbs me every time–I find myself screaming, “Eddie’s a hero! He deserves better!” on just about every viewing); Peter Stormare has a notable side role as Dieter, the asshole second-in-command for the poachers; Arliss Howard is an anti-Hammond whose snide and overconfident façade that barely covers a weaselly inferiority complex is easy to hate; Vince Vaughn plays his usual laid-back-bro-with-a-heart-of-gold; and Richard Attenborough’s single appearance in the film is scene-stealing.
The Lost World also has a little more darkness and moral complexity than the original. After all, it confronts the audience again and again with the proposition, are the heroes even the good guys? Hammond sends Sarah off alone to an island full of lethal prehistoric animals, which just isn’t smart regardless of her survival skills on the African savannah, and he dispatches the remainder of the team without even adequately informing them of the risks–for instance, that another, and much better funded, InGen team would soon arrive to pillage the place. To be fair, he clues in one member of the team, but of course Nick Van Owen is a saboteur and eco-terrorist who’s willing to put others’ lives in danger for the sake of freeing the dinosaurs, and he doesn’t bother to fill anyone in until things get set in motion. Sarah and Nick make several decisions that compromise the safety of both teams: freeing the dinosaurs in the camp, taking the juvenile tyrannosaur with them, keeping the bloodied clothing instead of discarding it so that the tyrannosaurs are all that much more easily able to track them, and taking the bullets from Roland Tembo’s gun. Sure, most of these actions were inadvertent, but it’s also true that most if not all of the deaths can be traced to their choices. Of course, it’s still easy to root for them since they care about the dinosaurs and we know them better than the hunters. And who really wants to cheer for poachers, even commanded by someone as charming as Pete Postlethwaite, when the scummy Peter Ludlow is writing their checks and some of them, like Dieter, are just vicious, uncaring, and brutal? (Whether we should actually devote so much to conserving species brought back from extinction after dozens or hundreds of millions of years is another question entirely that this film doesn’t really wrangle with; Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom at least engaged with that debate but quickly backed away from it.)
Then of course the dinosaurs themselves are great. I love the speculative socialized and nurturing behaviors shown. Would Stegosaurus really have cared for its young like that? It doesn’t matter; it was still some fun behavior to model, a nice counterpoint to dinosaurs as dumb and slow brutes, and the animatronics and computer animation that brought those stegosaurs to life is really something else. In general, the special effects look even better than those in Jurassic Park, showing some impressive updates in technology in a few short years, and all of the returning dinosaurs get a bit of a makeover even as a few new critters make their appearance. And while the Compsognathus / Procompsognathus amalgam is maybe a bit of a miss, most of the other new additions seemed rather true-to-life for the time. Plus, in 1997 paleontologists were only beginning to discover more and more feathered dinosaurs, so it was fair enough (probably) to leave them all scaly.
There are things that I truly don’t like about the movie. The pacing is a bit all over the place, as the plot moves forward in fits and starts, and the San Diego sequence, while exciting, feels like it belongs to a different movie (of course, if you think of the whole movie as an homage to King Kong, which surely would have been in Steven Spielberg’s mind, then the final act makes more sense). And that San Diego sequence offers a tantalizing possibility but in some ways doesn’t go far enough; dinosaurs on the mainland would have been a practical way to move on from the repeated trips to remote islands for similar survival stories, and it wouldn’t be until Fallen Kingdom that the franchise finally took advantage of this. Not that all of my complaints lay in that final section of the film, but also, I can never wrap my head around the logistics of how the Tyrannosaurus buck broke out of the cargo hold, killed everyone, and then was once more trapped; an explanation could exist, and perhaps it would even be something that would satisfy me, but the bizarre appearance of the ghost freighter has always invited the question of what exactly happened–and I don’t think of myself typically as the sort of doofus yelling “plot hole!” just because something’s not explicitly depicted onscreen. Then there’s the one really bad casting choice: Harvey Jason, an English actor, plays Ajay Sidhu, the Indian assistant to Roland Tembo, and it seems to be a textbook example of brownface.
Other than that, though, I wouldn’t say that The Lost World is a bad movie. It’s just tonally different from Jurassic Park. It’s not about the same things, and its recurring characters are (appropriately) different than they were before. This is an adventure movie, a spiritual successor to movies like the original screen adaptation of The Lost World in 1925, or King Kong in 1933, or any of the kaiju movies spawned out of them. It’s part monster movie, part safari adventure, and it maybe feels a bit disjointed because of that. Or maybe it’s because The Lost World is a crueler movie with a less-clear moral center than its predecessor. Doesn’t make it bad, but it does make it difficult to categorize. It’s rough around the edges, more inclined to brutality than awe, with deeply flawed characters filling the roles of protagonists and antagonists. It’s an interesting experiment for such a damn big blockbuster movie. And I’m still charmed by it.
It’s common knowledge that the book is always better than the movie. Except for when it isn’t. Jurassic Park is a fairly unique case, in that the movie is an incredible achievement and is distinctly superior to the book, and yet in adapting from print to screen, it takes some liberties and changes some characters and plot arcs for the worse. While I do believe that the best version of Jurassic Park exists on the screen, there are some notable caveats that go with that statement, and depending on your storytelling priorities, it’s perfectly reasonable to favor the book. It’s sort of a tie, then, isn’t it?
Below are the elements I favored in each version.
Better in the Film
Almost all of the characters. Except for the case of Gennaro (made into a symbol of corporate greed and embodied primarily by cowardice) and Nedry (who remains a fairly simple bumbling villain, and yet another character motivated by greed), they’re all more human and complex.
Hammond is refreshingly reformed, not a simple corporate bad guy or “evil Walt Disney” like the book, and I think his realization over the course of the film that the park was a bad idea, his recognition that his consultants’ concerns about power, control, and chaos were right, provides a fantastic character arc that also serves to reinforce the central theme of the movie in a better and more subtle way than the preachy lectures from Malcolm in the novel; this also provides a nice setup for Hammond’s reformation and attempt to get the dinosaurs left alone that motivates him to act in The Lost World.
Grant has a fantastic new arc, becoming more comfortable with children and developing paternal characteristics that had otherwise been lacking and suggest a likely improvement in his long-term relationship with Sattler (and so I’ll never really forgive Jurassic Park III for bringing the two back as exes, with Sattler having found another partner to start a family with).
Speaking of Sattler, the sensitivity and fearful resolve brought to the role by Laura Dern make for an improved character over the more generic Action Hero Woman defined solely by beauty and nerves of steel in the book.
Malcolm is made to be hipper and funnier, somewhat less a boring know-it-all, in part thanks to far fewer speeches and in part due to the magnetism Jeff Goldblum naturally produces.
Switching the relative ages of dino-nerd Tim and scaredy-cat Lex, and then making Lex a computer geek, makes Lex far less annoying and gives her something practical to do while retaining Tim’s function in the story. Helpful, endearing kids–who are still kids and require protection–make Grant’s arc even more plausible and, more importantly, make it easier for the audience (or at least me) to care when the kids are imperiled. (I literally gasp every time I watch that Explorer slide over the edge with Grant and Lex barely grasping the line to safety in time.)
The design of the park is gorgeous, the sets are amazing, and it looks better than I could have imagined from reading the book alone. In fact, the book makes the park seem smaller, in a way, even though there’s a more involved tour and then the extended river raft sequence to show more of it and more of the dinosaurs in it. (Tough to beat the lush Hawaiian ridges in the background of the film for making the island and park seem enormous.)
The movie focuses on a smaller set of intense action scenes with plenty of smaller character moments in between. The book is too much a run of threat after threat, with virtually no character development (I’ll talk in the next section about the cool moments of meandering the book gets into, but they’re not there for character development).
The movie really nails moments of awe. In the book, there’s more sickening dread throughout. Whereas the movie still opens with the Velociraptor attack, it then shifts to introducing our characters, and when we get to the island, we get the cool Brachiosaurus scene. The book lingers on moments of horror, characterized by the introductory scene in which a maimed man is brought back to the mainland to die, followed by a prolonged subplot about several Procompsognathus that have escaped to the mainland to prey on infants.
The movie ends with a sense of hope and renewed purpose. The book ends on a darker note, with a much higher body count, the island napalmed, predators escaped to the mainland, and the surviving protagonists held prisoner.
Better in the Book
Gennaro is done a great disservice in the film by combining his character with Ed Regis and killing him off early. I really like the Gennaro of the book. He’s still representative of corporate greed and irresponsibility, but he’s frankly not a bad man, and he’s provided an opportunity for reluctant redemption. Gennaro’s also the book’s everyman and therefore makes for the most relatable viewpoint character, in contrast to the author’s mouthpiece that is Malcolm or the Action Heroes of Grant and Sattler.
There is not a single best version of Muldoon, but the book’s version has some strong points in his favor. I love Bob Peck’s portrayal, but I also like the older, alcoholic, roguish figure of the novel. I also enjoy Muldoon’s meatier role, as he becomes centrally involved in the subplot of attempting to get the park back online, doing things like tranquilizing the adult Tyrannosaurus, finding Nedry’s corpse, and distracting the raptors when attempting to restore power. And there’s the fact that Muldoon makes it out alive in the book. I do prefer the film’s treatment of death–anyone and everyone is at risk, and even though the body count is lower, it’s not the simple use of violent death as moral consequence that Crichton tends to employ in his books. Still, Muldoon’s a character I want to make it off the island; he knew better, and he actually paid attention to the threat the dinosaurs represented. It’s especially humiliating for the film version of the character in that he’s taken down by the dinosaurs he’s supposed to know and respect/fear.
The dinosaurs in the book are more accurate, at least for the time of publication. The film takes too many liberties with some of its dinosaurs, though they are still mostly quite realistic (again, for the time of release) and certainly dynamic in a way that most audiences hadn’t seen before. Even the weird divergences in the book, like Velociraptor actually being Deinonychus, are explicitly discussed, and the speculative behaviors presented for some of the dinosaurs are exactly that–speculative, not necessarily inaccurate.
The book actually answers the questions raised by its central mysteries. The movie never explains why the Triceratops keeps getting sick (nor does it even bother to suggest that Sattler is right) or how the Velociraptor were breeding without notice or able to escape their confinement to lay eggs in the park. The novel simply had more raptors, so it was easier to imagine them secretly disappearing at night in small numbers, but the movie has only the three, so it’s a little harder to imagine that no one would ever notice (then again, they had a skeleton crew to run the park, even more so in the movie).
The book also spends more time fleshing out how the park is run and staffed, how things go to hell and how systems are restored, and even what the dinosaurs really are. I liked the moments spent with Muldoon, Wu, and Harding and the more behind-the-curtain elements that their stories, and Hammond’s, provided. While I’d never want to see a movie remake of Jurassic Park, which is more or less perfect as is, I really wouldn’t mind at all a television series that adapted the novel and mirrored its more meandering pace and curiosity about every element of how this park could possibly exist. Spielberg rightly focused on the awe and spectacle, but I like Crichton’s intense focus on rationalizing everything, on making it seem real, like an incident that had actually occurred. Crichton was interested in the infrastructure and logistics of it all, and I suppose I am too.
A fairly neutral point is how each version left the state of the fictional universe for potential sequels. Certainly sequels are never necessary, but we’ve certainly had plenty of sequels nonetheless, and it’s interesting to consider how the changed landscapes at the conclusions of the original stories impacted what later stories could reasonably be told.
The book closes off any option of a return to Isla Nublar, given its dramatic napalm bombing finale. However, it does leave the dangling thread of some of the dinosaurs having reached the mainland–at least some Procompsognathus and what is suggested to be Velociraptor. That might have been a rather limited scope for a sequel, but you’d immediately be in a world where dinosaurs were coexisting with remote human populations, and that could have been interesting. I’m rather glad we didn’t see that sequel, though, because I don’t think I’d much care for such a scenario where there were only a few small theropods left. Sure, it could have been an interesting story about preserving and containing de-extinct and now endangered life that was nonetheless an invasive species, but I bet it would have been more a monster narrative about killer dinosaurs.
Ultimately, it was the better choice for Crichton to abandon this subplot. And, given his interest in a plausible prehistoric park and in the nuts-and-bolts infrastructure of it, the existence of a Site B makes a lot of sense and is a good starting point. It doesn’t feel like a do-over, but more a reflection that Jurassic Park would have required considerable facilities for genetics, manufacturing, incubation, and raising the young dinosaurs that likely would have to be larger than the infrastructure suggested even in the book’s version of the park. It’s a natural development. I’m also hardly alone in finding that Crichton’s best stories tend to borrow themes and structures from classic literature, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he turned to perhaps the most signature adventure story of humans stumbling upon a lost prehistoric land for the sequel, lifting even the title of Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World for his novel. Once more, Crichton spends a lot of time on nuts and bolts, building out a plausible sequence of events for the characters to discover this lost world and articulating a coherent explanation for its existence and abandonment. But the plot itself suffers, and he reuses character types from Jurassic Park, down to bringing along two kids. Truly, once the team gets to the island, the plot takes a backseat to a series of mostly disconnected action set pieces, interesting speculative dinosaur behaviors, and long-winded philosophical debates among the protagonists. The central mystery on the island–how can the ecosystem support so many carnivores?–is not especially interesting and keeps getting derailed by the next action scene. And the central antagonists are just bumbling poachers, as Crichton apparently felt it necessary to bring the BioSyn corporate antagonist behind Nedry back into the mix in a rather mundane way. Perhaps the most unusual carryover from the first book is the return of Ian Malcolm, a character who was quite dead. While a bizarre choice, I imagine this was an acquiescence to audience interest and the very living version of the character in the movie. It might perhaps be another nod to Arthur Conan Doyle, who in addition to writing The Lost World was of course the creator of Sherlock Holmes, whom he once killed off and later brought back.
Spielberg and screenwriter David Koepp had their own loose ends they could have followed up on. After all, there’s no mention of bombing the island. There could have still been dinosaurs on Isla Nublar. Perhaps InGen could have sent in a team to try to control the situation, encountering new threats and exploring previously unseen areas of the park. The mysteries left unanswered in the film could have been addressed. And while the lysine contingency would have gone into effect with the absence of human intervention, the animals’ continued survival would have been another mystery to answer–after all, that was another question left to address on Isla Sorna either way. While they largely scrapped the broad adventure plot of Crichton’s sequel, they did pull in several of the characters, a few of the action sequences, and the broad concept of the second island, so Nublar was left neglected. Of course, the films did eventually get back to Isla Nublar and a reorganized park, but in the process, they left the fate of the dinosaurs on Isla Sorna in shadow. Why was the volcanic eruption on Isla Nublar a potential threat of re-extinction for the dinosaurs if they were thriving on Site B? The only for-certain explanation, provided in ancillary materials like the Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom Survival Guide, is that the animals were relocated from Isla Sorna to the new park on Isla Nublar. Were they all moved? How did InGen get around the apparent preserve status set up for Isla Sorna after the events of The Lost World, especially if they completely depleted the newly established ecosystem in the process? Regardless, it would have been nice if each film didn’t act as though there was only one island with dinosaurs on it, that island being whichever one was the focus of that given film.
But now I’m way off topic. The bottom line: there are a great many things I like about both the book and movie version of Jurassic Park, and I’m glad they both exist.
If I could say only one thing about the expansions for Jurassic World: Evolution, I would say, “Buy Return to Jurassic Park; it’s worth it.” That one expansion was a stand-out, balancing nostalgia with new features, building on the solid foundation of the base game, and focusing on story to a greater degree than any other campaign mode in the game.
There’s a lot more to say about Return to Jurassic Park, but I want to discuss the other expansions first. I’ve now had some experience with all the existing DLC for JWE, which includes three added campaigns (Secrets of Dr. Wu, Claire’s Sanctuary, and Return to Jurassic Park), four expansion packs of additional dinosaurs (the Deluxe Dinosaur Pack, the Cretaceous Dinosaur Pack, the Carnivore Dinosaur Pack, and the Herbivore Dinosaur Pack), and one purely cosmetic addition (the Raptor Squad Skin Collection). Nothing really disappointed me, although some were better than others.
There’s nothing remarkable in the dinosaur content packs, but I liked having even more dinosaur options to add to the park, even though there’s largely a focus on existing clades, such that, at least with some of the new additions, they’ll feel more like new skins rather than truly new animals. Frequent additions to my parks have included the Styracosaurus from Deluxe (a ceratopsian I love about as much as Triceratops, given its appearance in Crichton’s sequel novel and its charismatic and dangerous role in “Last Link in the Chain” of Xenozoic Tales, not to mention the genus’s metal-as-hell skulls), the colossal Dreadnoughtus from the Cretaceous pack, the Proceratosaurus from the Carnivore pack (a small carnivore whose comfort in packs and ability to coexist with larger predators makes a helpful addition to boost ratings, especially in a certain carnivore-only challenge!), and the wide-jawed and small-for-a-sauropod Nigersaurus from the Herbivore pack (she’s too goofy-looking not to love). Dinosaurs in these packs, the campaign expansions, and some of the free content updates further round out the prehistoric life from the Jurassic Park novels, movies, and games that had previously been missing from JWE, although any marine life is still absent entirely. All that said, I liked adding more dinosaurs to the park, but you’re not missing anything vital if you don’t get these content packs. Furthermore, none of the dinosaurs break the balance of building a park, as they are unlocked over the campaign by building up favor with the different park directors, same as many of the already existing features in the base game.
The only thing that feels truly frivolous is the Raptor Squad Skin Collection. It’s only a couple bucks by itself, or less if bought discounted, but it only provides Velociraptor skins so that your raptors can look like Blue, Delta, Echo, and Charlie from Jurassic World. Since I have the pack, I’ve used the skins frequently; it adds a little more variety, and those skins are more dynamic than many of the other options available in the base game. But it’s a purely cosmetic choice. I can take it or leave it.
That gets us back to those campaign expansions. Unlike Return to Jurassic Park, the first two expansions, Secrets of Dr. Wu and Claire’s Sanctuary, are overall enjoyable, though largely forgettable.
Secrets of Dr. Wu serves as something of a conclusion to the base game’s campaign. All the secrets, plotting, and inter-division politics that never really went anywhere in the base game provide the platform for what happens next: Dr. Wu enlists your character to help him further his research into genetic modifications, taking you to new locations on the islands, including a top-secret research site. At first, you’re still juggling the interests of the Security, Entertainment, and Science divisions along with Wu’s requests, but the chief geneticist’s interests eventually become paramount. Wu’s research initially produces access to some new dinosaurs in a new park dubbed Muerta East. When you’ve met his initial objectives, though, he requests that you join him at his private lab, the Tacaño Research Facility. Here, you’re blessedly free of competing division contracts, but the scope is also fairly narrow. You help cultivate a new line of hybrid dinosaurs, culminating in a break-out and dino-to-dino battle before settling into a bland grind to increase the ratings of dinosaurs for export in the final mission. The base campaign’s story now feels more “complete,” but it still never really goes anywhere, and you’re still involved in deeply unethical activities without any real consequences.
Jurassic World: Evolution and Secrets of Dr. Wu are functionally alternative sequels to Jurassic World. While Claire’s Sanctuary is another alternative sequel, it also acts as a happier timeline in which Lockwood’s promise of Sanctuary was real and Claire is successful in relocating several dinosaurs. No Gothic horror shenanigans, no final dino release onto the mainland. Its narrative is rather subdued as a result, and the main challenge is dealing with the use of an ever-increasing Hammond Foundation fee while making sure your Sanctuary can both house happy dinosaurs (with an interesting new Paleobotany element requiring you to have the correct mix of plant life for different dinosaur types) and draw in a profit from tourists. (Yes, that means that it’s not so much a nature preserve as it is yet another island zoo, and yes, that’s a tragic compromise, but the game spends little time on this theme.) The standout mission is before you start your Sanctuary, however. You lead a team to set up a small research outpost on Isla Nublar. The map chosen winds from a valley up onto the slopes of the volcanic Mount Sibo. It’s a truly massive map, and dinosaurs roam freely in their own social groups. It captures the adventure-safari spirit of The Lost World and the first act of Fallen Kingdom quite well. I enjoyed driving across the island, photographing and observing the dinosaurs and providing medications to treat a new disease. The mission is very story-focused, so I concentrated on the story objectives and the setting, free from contracts or the demands of tourists. It was a delight, and I would have loved a whole game about exploring and researching this prehistoric preserve while attempting to prepare for, or even undo, a predicted tragedy. Some of my fondest memories of this level are of dealing with an ornery stegosaur herd near my base camp, which often attacked my perimeter fencing and sowed chaos among the researchers on the ground. It was an interesting experience, trying to find a way to coexist with these animals. The final moments of the mission also stood out as tense and horrific, as I had to choose which dinosaurs we’d be able to transport off the island in time, and dinosaurs began dying off in the chaos of the volcano’s imminent eruption. Sacrifices must be made.
Finally, there’s Return to Jurassic Park, yet another alternative sequel but this time to the original film, picking up shortly after the evacuation of Hammond and the other survivors from Isla Nublar. In this alternate universe, Hammond has convinced Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm to return to Jurassic Park, to start over and try to do things right. Hammond walks a line between his friendly tycoon persona and the born-again naturalist of The Lost World, as he is eager to build a park that is safe yet profitable, with dinosaurs who are well-cared-for, although sometimes his contracts darkly indicate that he’s still a little bit short-sighted and too profit-motivated. Hammond is aided by a young version of Cabot Finch, the PR manager from the base game. This Finch proves himself to be loyal to Hammond, even though he’s still ambitious and self-serving. He is the only central character not from the films, and the story largely focuses on Hammond, Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm (while Sam Neill, Laura Dern, and Jeff Goldblum returned to voice their roles, Richard Attenborough of course passed away a few years ago, and his voice actor delivers at best a decent imitation, at worst a whinier and more nasally knockoff).
Contracts became far more tolerable to me in Return; instead of competing against everyone, the divisions are headed by people possessing more or less mutual respect, all with the goal of presenting as-accurate-as-possible dinosaurs in humane enclosures with safe exhibits and facilities for park guests. You still have to complete contracts to raise your reputation with a division and to unlock more features, but you’re not risking reputation decreases or sabotage by focusing on one division’s contracts over the others (after all, petty infighting and anything intentionally done to risk the safety of the guests and dinosaurs would be intensely antithetical to these characters). Contracts are also in line with the ethical, reasonable personas you’re working with, so don’t expect contracts to have dinosaurs fight each other or to sell off certain dinosaurs. The contracts also have more interesting overlap in interests: Grant’s are focused on expeditions and the creation of more authentic dinosaurs; Sattler’s are focused on the wellbeing of the animals and observation of them in their natural habitats; Malcolm’s are very focused on security, and rather than independently increasing a separate division score for himself, completion of his contracts improves your reputation with Grant and Sattler; and Hammond’s and Finch’s are focused on expansion of the park, improvement of guest facilities, and profit growth.
The story is simple and derivative but entertaining. We first have to get the dinosaurs on Isla Nublar contained again. We then have to address what went wrong and work out a solution to the breeding problem (sadly, as far as I could tell, dinosaurs are not self-reproducing in the game even before the fix, and they’re still reliant on concealed feeders even in natural habitats). This involves a side trip to Isla Sorna, where we get the production facilities back online; in the campaign mode only, all your dinosaurs are shipped to Isla Nublar from Isla Sorna, creating a fun variation in how you stock the park with new attractions that unfortunately is not carried over into the Challenge modes. Finally, back on Isla Nublar, you work to grow the newly opened Jurassic Park, attempt to stop a bit of corporate espionage, and use your Tyrannosaurus to end yet another Velociraptor outbreak. The returning characters voice their concerns with attempting this reopening, but the game doesn’t try very hard to explain why they’d agree to come back to this site of death or why they believe in Hammond’s mission; if you can accept that Hammond intends to try again and has convinced the others that working with him from the beginning could keep dinosaurs and people safer, then you don’t need a deeper explanation. The story doesn’t really offer anything new, either; it just ties up loose ends (mostly loose ends that didn’t really need tying) and provides enough of a narrative structure to explain how exactly we’re all back at Jurassic Park. As a huge fan of the movies, I had more than enough to satisfy me.
In addition to the new story, we get a couple new creatures, as well: Compsognathus and Pteranodon, which have both had significant roles in the first two sequels. On top of that, many of the dinosaurs present in the Jurassic Park trilogy now have specific skins modeled after their appearances in these films. Once you unlock the new creatures and skins in the expansion, you can use them in any other mode; same goes for the Jurassic Park aesthetic and park economy.
I found the gameplay to be the best in this mode, and it’s not just nostalgia speaking. Certainly, nostalgia plays a role: park staff are dressed like their counterparts in the first film, the visitor center is more or less a duplicate of the original, visitors arrive to the island by helicopter, you have the classic cable fences and electric Explorers, the dinosaurs are movie-accurate, the guests are dressed like nineties tourists, and the additional park facilities feel like natural extensions of the design aesthetic of the first park. But management just feels simpler, more straightforward, more focused on providing lovely enclosures for the dinosaurs. For starters, the needed infrastructure is greatly streamlined: helipad to arrive at (placed by you, instead of the default monorail locations), visitor center that houses all the R&D departments as hub add-ons, geothermal power plant to provide electricity, only two types of visitor attractions (the car tour and a self-contained Pteranodon aviary), and only five types of visitor-needs buildings (restaurant, restroom, gift shop, emergency bunker, and hotel) that can all be clustered around a single attraction entrance point. It’s easy to chain along the ride through multiple enclosures (or around them, in the case of carnivore pens). Even the dinosaurs are simplified, in a way: while the expansion does add more animals to all game modes, any Jurassic Park-themed park has a reduced roster of era-appropriate dinosaurs. It’s a more focused experience, though there’s still plenty to manage properly to get your park to five stars (especially when playing in challenge modes).
My Challenge mode attempts tend to use the Jurassic Park setting. The combination of tight park-building gameplay and heavy doses of nostalgia makes this my preferred Jurassic World: Evolution experience. Over two years ago, I described the base game as flawed, fun, and slightly disappointing. Frontier Developments has added so much to it since, so it was already an improved experience, but Return to Jurassic Park has transformed the game into something truly special.
Jurassic World: Evolution is a flawed game, but it’s also an excellent addition to the Jurassic Park franchise and a lovely companion to both the original novel and the new Jurassic World films.
The concept is simple enough: it’s a park management sim, like Zoo Tycoon or Roller Coaster Tycoon (Evolution was in fact developed by Frontier Developments, which released Planet Coaster in 2016). A park management sim with dinosaurs is not exactly a new idea: Zoo Tycoon had Dinosaur Digs in 2002 and Zoo Tycoon 2 had Extinct Animals in 2007, while the Jurassic Park franchise has already had Jurassic Park III: Park Builder (GBA, 2001), Operation Genesis (Xbox, PS2, PC, 2003), and the mobile titles Jurassic Park Builder (2012) and Jurassic World: The Game (2015). Most of those were not very good–the mobile games are tedious time-wasters, and while I’ve never played the GBA park builder, its reviews were not positive. But Operation Genesis proved the obvious, that a film franchise about building a dinosaur park that falls to chaos would be a good fit for a game about managing the dinosaur park in the face of system failures.
I previously wrote about how Evolution looks like a spiritual successor to Operation Genesis. Having now played Evolution for more than sixty hours, I feel completely validated in that impression. The overall game involves developing dinosaur parks across six islands; there’s an overarching campaign tied loosely together with missions across Las Cinco Muertes, with advancement from island to island dependent upon reaching an adequate park rating across the archipelago, and Isla Nublar also appears as a sandbox park with unlimited cash at your disposal and all buildings, upgrades, and dinosaurs available that you have unlocked across the other islands.
Management of the parks involves producing operations facilities (ranger units to feed and medicate the dinosaurs, Asset Containment Units or ACUs to tranquilize and transport them, storm towers to predict and protect against storm damage, and a variety of support buildings like expedition centers to launch new digs and fossil centers to use the results of those digs to unlock new dinosaurs and research centers to unlock new upgrades), guest facilities (some used to satisfy guests, some used to provide adequate guest capacity, and some to keep guests safe), enclosures (including fencing, guest viewing structures, and feeders), and power infrastructure (to keep all the above humming along). Successful park management will quickly become micromanagement; while you can choose between manually handling the day-to-day tasks of the rangers and ACU teams or simply delegating the tasks to them, you will never have the ability to unlock any sort of automatic designation of assignments, so that even ensuring the regular restocking of feeders must be directly assigned by you. A ranger will drive by a sick dinosaur or empty feeder and take no action without your direct input. And there were the occasional path-finding issues (though not too frequent) that added a little extra inconvenience.
The micromanagement might seem tedious, and it can be, but it adds to the sense of chaos when things start to fall apart–and they will. Tropical storms, sabotage, dinosaur disease epidemics, and escape attempts blossom into a thousand concerns all at once, and even more red alerts flash at the top of your screen as feeders run out or dinosaurs get loose in the midst of it all. Small problems and large problems alike can seem overwhelming, and sometimes you’ll be racing about, switching between manual control and delegation, as you attempt to triage the situation and respond to appropriately prioritized tasks. This game succeeds in not just being a park management sim, but in accurately portraying the loss of control amid inevitable chaos that the Jurassic Park franchise is all about! That element is masterful, though reflective of a minority of the time spent in the game.
Because failure is inevitable, the game is actually rather forgiving. It is certainly challenging, but it’s not really difficult. While you have the option to reset a park if things get too out of control, I never had to use the tool. Still, in the midst of a spiraling set of problems, the game can be tense–basically always in a fun way. Big problems call for big problem-solving and quick thinking! Outside of the moments of crisis, though, success is largely a matter of time and responsiveness. Keep the animals healthy and the guests at least somewhat satisfied, and your park rating (and profits) will rise. Even if cash is tight, having a single dinosaur and a fast food joint can be enough to get an early-stage park on the path to success.
There are a lot of deep statistics that are never explained anywhere in the game, but you only have to get a cursory understanding of any process to make it work. I still don’t fully understand how staffing, item quality, and price affects guest satisfaction with a particular store, and other than knowing that sales price should at least be higher than my own cost, I never did bother to figure it out. I didn’t need to. After I grew frustrated with one park always hovering around 4.5 stars because my continued success would draw down guest satisfaction as demand would continuously outstrip supply, I discovered via a forum tip that you could just close your park down briefly–then everyone would be excited with the reopening and the overcrowding would be gone, solving the problem for a while. Again, the game can be challenging, but it’s typically open to being exploited–and since it’s all about the bottom line with profits and divisional reputation, the game sort of encourages that exploitative mentality.
Even the unlocking of database entries, that wild goose chase of achievement hunting, was largely accomplished by accident, with me just stumbling across new entries without any effort or intent. By the end, after lucking into everything else, I was able to determine (thanks to the alphabetical ordering) that I was only missing two characters, Paul Kirby and Simon Masrani. I couldn’t figure out what to do, though I suspected that Paul might have something to do with the Ceratosaurus or Spinosaurus, while Masrani might have something to do with pteranodons (not in the game) or the Indominus. I looked that up–turned out that it involved letting guests get eaten by certain types of dinosaurs! So the biggest challenge was simply letting myself fail more than I had so far (though I’d be lying if I denied having many, many, many dinosaur escapes and resultant guest deaths).
Perhaps my favorite part of the game was just driving around in the ranger vehicle. Doing this results in a lot of random fun, like catching air over a slight rise or fishtailing around a tight turn or sending guests fleeing from my path (the game causes them to always dodge, so I grew more reckless as I stopped worrying about vehicular manslaughter). Even the everyday tasks can be fun: every attempt to medicate a dinosaur is an accuracy contest against surprisingly quick moving targets. There’s a lot to enjoy in the little things. And the dinosaurs are just absolutely beautiful. There was obviously a lot of investment in the dinosaur appearances, animations, sounds, and behaviors (they often act like convincing animals in enclosures). There are so many of them, too! Literally dozens of species, and even more after the free Jurassic World: Evolution update and if you pay the little extra for the Deluxe DLC (the total reaches 48 dinosaur species with all the above).
I hope there will be more content releases. Notably absent at this point is the Compsognathus from the films. But it would also be cool to have the additional dinosaurs from the books that didn’t make the final cut, including Euoplocephalus, Hypsilophodon, Microceratus, Othnielia, and Procompsognathus. Most of the dinosaurs from this group match the compys from the films in being small to mid-size, so maybe there was a sizing issue. Or maybe we’ll see some later on. The Euplocephalus, however, was somewhat bizarre to exclude, given that ankylosaurs including Ankylosaurus, Crichtonsaurus, Nodosaurus, and Polacanthus made it (though I do appreciate the nod with Crichtonsaurus to the late Michael Crichton, who after all is the reason Jurassic Park exists). The cearadactyls from the first book, and the pteranodons and dimorphodons and mososaur from the films, are completely absent. Especially given how significant the pteranodons and mosasaur have been to the Jurassic World films, I wouldn’t be surprised if we get flying and marine reptile updates later on.
I also hope that future updates might allow for the possibility that the dinosaurs will start breeding. On Isla Sorna, a fun surprise is that you start the park with a tightly guarded guest center area that opens up into vast rugged forests populated by herds of Stegosaurus and a Spinosaurus. The Spinosaurus preys on the stegosaurs, and the stegosaurs live off the foliage (actually concealed feed dispensers). But as soon as this park is accessed, I knew that their survival was numbered. The game does not currently allow for breeding, and so these animals would all eventually die out. It would be cool to truly be able to set up a “kind of biological preserve.” (Though the lack of breeding drives home the irony of the InGen Science Division’s efforts to set up working ecosystems on Isla Sorna in the game–none of them are sustainable without a heavy human hand). Similarly, it would be nice if the herbivores could live off the local plant life instead of relying exclusively on feeders.
There’s a camera mode, where you can make extra cash snapping pictures of the dinosaurs. I was disappointed to realize rather late on that the photos you take aren’t automatically saved (or if they are, I haven’t found where they’re saved to yet, and there doesn’t seem to be an obvious way to review them in-game). I did use the camera tool even after this realization to set up shots that would be worth screen-capping, images that were up-close to the animals, but I found that it could be just about as good to take screen-captures even outside of the photo mode. Aerial shots of big dinosaur herds were sometimes more impressive, and I could easily capture scenic views of the island landscapes (even the islands themselves are gorgeous). The graphically weak elements are the buildings, which simply look mundane and maybe a tad cartoonish, and the guests, who look like plastic mini-figures. But my eyes were on the dinosaurs most of the time.
At first I was terrified to go into carnivore enclosures–they’ll roar and charge at you. But the dinosaurs can’t hurt you, and you can’t hurt them. The worst is that they’ll knock your car around a bit, which is fun in its own way. So once I discovered that, carnivores became some of my favorite photo subjects–especially the fearsome Tyrannosaurus rex.
The first time a Tyrannosaurus bounded out of containment and into the enclosure was magic. And I never got tired of hearing its roar echoing across whatever park I put it on. There were other moments that were special, like with the first dinosaur you release into the park ever, or when my childhood favorite Triceratops was introduced, but the tyrannosaur was the most remarkable. Film-accurate, indeed.
There is a plot, but it doesn’t amount to anything. There’s a lot of suspicion and mistrust between the different divisions. The PR executive who oversees you is suspicious of your intentions and worried that you’ll outshine him. You carry out missions with the Science, Entertainment, and Security divisions to curry favor with them. The Science Division is focused on research and developing new animals, blinding them to other concerns. The Entertainment Division wants to make money and get guests into the park, and they’ll do risky and dumb things to make that money. The Security Division is willing to bleed money from the park to ensure that security protocols are sufficient, but they’re also in bed with Dr. Wu’s research into hybridization and militarization of the dinosaurs, resulting in some Bad Things happening. In addition to the missions, you’ll also get more randomized contracts. The division heads get voice overs, helping develop their personalities. We also have Jeff Goldblum back as Ian Malcolm, Bryce Dallace Howard as Claire Dearing, BD Wong as Henry Wu, and (for some reason) a guy who kind of sounds like Chris Pratt as Owen Grady. While Wu makes sense, it’s hard to understand why Dr. Malcolm, Claire, or Owen would be involved with the park again. You just have to accept that they have their reasons (which are never articulated but seem to be based around mistrust in InGen and the hope that their involvement can moderate the company). It’s obviously set in an alternate universe that appears to split off after the events of Jurassic World; there’s no doubt of that after the events detailed in Fallen Kingdom.
Over the course of the game, you’ll get some offers that are frankly unethical, like pitting dinosaurs against each other. At first, I refused. But as some missions (required for full game completion and technology unlocks) required some of that behavior, my moral guidelines loosened and I began to indulge in some frankly Evil Corporate Bullshit. Dr. Malcolm and Claire seemed to become increasingly distressed with my decision-making, and Wu and the PR exec became more envious and distrustful. And all the while, there was obviously secret research being conducted behind the scenes. But it never really built anywhere, even in the “memos” (actually transcripts would be more accurate) that you unlock as you (at least briefly) max out reputation with each division on an island. I think that video game stories can be really powerful when they lead a player to make decisions that are part of that story-telling, that feed into the narrative’s themes. This game does that. But there’s not really any payoff. Malcolm talks a lot about chaos, and Claire and Owen worry about the condition of the animals, and Wu does his Bond villain thing, but there’s no conclusion! We just end with a series of successful parks, all the corporate mistrust and secret dealings still simmering in the background and not fully revealed. The credits roll a couple of times–I believe it was once with completion of all missions and once with five-star ratings across all islands. Then you just hop back in and get back to work, grinding out whatever few achievements you may have left and building up your parks’ reputations. For most of the game, I thought that Evolution might miraculously be the best sequel in the franchise, a worthy successor to the original film and an interesting sibling to Jurassic World with its corporate and personal greed, militarization of technology, and rampant discussion and demonstration of chaos theory in action. But since the story goes nowhere, and there are no real consequences for the player’s, well, playing along (other than massive success), it’s ultimately disappointing.
I was also somewhat disappointed with the modification options for the dinosaurs. Over the course of the game, you assign fossil digs to collect genetic material that can further refine the genetic code for the dinosaurs. Separate research projects can provide new color patterns or improvements like extended lifespan, disease resistance, better defense, or increased attack power. While we get the Indominus and the Indoraptor hybrids, there’s no real way to make new custom animals outside of the slight genetic tweaking from the research projects. Still, while customization is limited, I loved the cosmetic changes available, especially with the Rainforest and Vivid palettes that brought bright blues and purples to my “assets.” Some of these changes seemed to accommodate the different appearances of the dinosaurs over different films.
Unfortunately, the search for a purer genetic code for the dinosaurs and the existence of cosmetic alterations makes me even more disappointed that the dinosaurs retain such an outdated appearance. I recognize that an established franchise doesn’t want to remake its dinosaurs, especially where there is still speculation about appearance, but its Velociraptor and Dilophosaurus, for instance, have always been inaccurate, and Jurassic World made explicit Dr. Wu’s contentions from the first book that none of the animals in Jurassic Park were accurate. Where a game specifically provides for “improving” the genetic code of the animals, why couldn’t we get to the point that a Velociraptor is small and feathered? Or that the Dilophosaurus is larger and frill-less?
The worst part for me was the inclusion of Deinonychus, yet another dromaeosaur, and instead of feathering it, giving it a couple of leathery ridges along head and tail! The game’s database entry for Deinonychus even references its link to research that would ultimately connect birds with dinosaurs.
But more generally, why not allow for dinosaurs with slightly updated appearances to better reflect current paleontological ideas? These dinosaurs could be unlocks at 100% genome completion, and there’d be no requirement that anyone produce these more accurate dinosaurs over their historic depictions. We could even have this decrease a dinosaur’s rating, with guests expecting to see the massive and leathery Velociraptor, for instance.
Not that this complaint stopped me from enjoying the hell out of the game. It’s one of the few games I’ve ever completed 100%, with all unlocks and all missions completed and ratings maxed and every achievement reached. It’s also probably the biggest game that I’ve ever done this with.
Sadly, I’m probably at the point where I’m done with the game, at least for now. I might hop in occasionally to snap some dinosaur pictures or to review the surprisingly vast database of Jurassic Park lore contained within. If there’s new content out, I expect to be back for that. But there’s nothing compelling me to just manage a fully established chain of parks. It’s mundane, the challenge is removed, and now it’s just a matter of deploying the appropriate team to fulfill the appropriate task. There’s nothing to keep me going, and there’s no reason to replay.
Still, this was a game that was worth its cost. I had a lot of fun and will have some good memories. If you love Jurassic Park and can at least tolerate management simulator games, I would highly recommend this title.
I went into Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom with low expectations. Those expectations were surpassed considerably. It might take a while for me to shake out how much I like the movie, and how I’d rank it compared to the other films, but it’s safe to say that it’s good, not great.
Fallen Kingdom opens with an incredibly intense mercenary operation in the midst of a driving rainstorm in the dead of night to retrieve a sample from the remains of the Indominus rex at the bottom of the mosasaur lagoon. The action switches from a submersible in the lagoon depths to a rain-slicked landing site and stormy helicopter escape. Tension builds quickly, and the prehistoric beasts we encounter early on are glimpsed first as shadows and tricks of the light. It is terrifying! And more than ever, the carnivores of Jurassic Park feel truly monstrous, seemingly more like looming malevolent spirits than fully corporeal animals.
After this incredible opening sequence, the film slows a bit to reintroduce Owen Grady (Chris Pratt) and Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard) in their post-disaster lives and to establish the narrative conceit: the dinosaurs of Isla Nublar are threatened with re-extinction because the long-dormant volcano on the island is active once more and soon to erupt cataclysmically.
We aren’t ever told what happened to the dinosaurs on Isla Sorna (Site B, from the second and third movies), but for us to believe in Claire’s idealistic motivations or the sense of urgency in rescuing these animals, we must accept that Isla Nublar is now the only island with dinosaurs, and this eruption will drive them all back into extinction. This narrative decision is especially frustrating for a few reasons:
Isla Sorna is specifically mentioned in the film, one time, but its context in the larger plot is never addressed, and that single reference doesn’t even state that the dinosaurs on Isla Sorna are gone;
Benjamin Lockwood (James Cromwell), Hammond’s never-before-mentioned former partner and a wealthy philanthropist who launches the expedition to save the dinosaurs, has plans to move them to a safe island habitat where they can live naturally–but it’s unclear why this wouldn’t be Isla Sorna; and
Isla Sorna is prominently featured in the recently released tie-in game, Jurassic World: Evolution.
An answer is proposed in ancillary marketing materials published in the buildup to the film’s release, of all places. There’s a fairly elaborate history of InGen and the world’s reaction to its dinosaurs that is spelled out on the in-universe Dinosaur Protection Group website; this includes the assertion that “the surviving animals [on Site B] were reportedly moved to Nublar to be housed as future attractions at Jurassic World.” Why not just mention this in passing in the film? Regardless, I’ve spent too much time on a plot point that the movie just ignores, so let’s move on.
In short, Claire convinces Owen to go back to the island to try to rescue Blue the Velociraptor. There are a few clips recorded from his days of training young Blue and the other raptors that we see over the course of the adventure, and these segments do a wonderful job of developing both raptor and trainer. Claire and Owen have an on-again, off-again relationship of opposites that flares up in moments of crisis or when it’s convenient; they’re not particularly interesting. But Owen and Blue have a rich and complex relationship, of a nurturing past and a series of betrayals by both up through the present. That relationship becomes the heart of the film in a way that the first Jurassic World only hits at. Sure, it’s revisionist, and making Blue exceptionally intelligent and empathetic as compared to her cohort might strike some as silly, but the emotional payoff of that relationship is rewarding.
In preparing for or setting off on this rescue mission, we meet the remainder of the new cast. The aforementioned Benjamin Lockwood was cut out of a partnership with John Hammond because of some perceived sin (I’ll get to that later), but now he seeks redemption in the preservation of the once-more-endangered dinosaurs. Young Maisie (Isabella Sermon) is his precocious granddaughter, tended to by her stern yet loving nanny, Iris (Geraldine Chaplin). Franklin Webb and Zia Rodriguez (Justice Smith and Daniella Pineda, respectively) are members of Claire’s dino-advoacy group who join her on the island; Franklin’s an IT expert needed to get the Jurassic World dinosaur-tracking system back online, while Zia is a paleo-veterinarian. Meanwhile, Rafe Spall plays Lockwood’s right-hand man and organizer of the rescue mission, Eli Mills, as a slightly more charming and slightly more evil version of Peter Ludlow, while Ted Levine plays the familiar “great white hunter” archetype like a cruel, dumb, and mean Roland Tembo knockoff (Owen Grady specifically comments on the use of the over-worn trope when he meets Wheatley).
That last sentence above should make it clear: Fallen Kingdom draws heavilyfrom The Lost World in the same way that Jurassic World drew from Jurassic Park. A team meant to support dinosaur conservation efforts, and organized by a remorseful and fabulously wealthy old man, finds itself at odds with a bigger, InGen-backed mercenary outfit assigned to poach dinosaurs for transportation back to the mainland to generate profits for the greed-driven young shark successor. Except now we have a ticking time bomb in the form of the volcano. And where The Lost World only has a brief T-rex interlude back on the mainland at the end, Fallen Kingdom gets us back to humanity about halfway through and plays around with the idea of dinosaurs in the modern world quite a bit more. The Lost World ends with the dinosaurs back in the box (literally, with the Tyrannosaurus back in the cargo hold, but also figuratively, with the dinosaurs contained on Isla Sorna), while Fallen Kingdom has them bursting forth.
The second half of the film shifts from the Lost World adventure story trappings to a dark and disturbing Gothic horror story, complete with a haunted mansion, a locked wing (or, in this case, sub-basement) of the manor with a horrific mystery, and unnatural family secrets that are slowly unearthed. We have a new hybrid star, the Indoraptor, which is even more a monster than the Indominus, but scaled down to snack on misguided mercenaries in dimly lit but finely furnished hallways. BD Wong returns to portray an increasingly deranged Dr. Henry Wu, who by this point seems like he’s just a few steps away from becoming the leader of SPECTRE; Wu has designed the Indoraptor using DNA from sources including the Indominus rex and the Velociraptor (but isn’t the Indominus already part raptor?), and the resultant creation is difficult to control and prone to senseless killing. When the Indoraptor breaks loose, it’s a full-on horror movie. My wife and I were on the edge of our seats, and I succumbed to quite a few jump scares (though honestly that’s more a reflection on me than the quality of the scares).
This second half also leads up to the dinosaurs loose across the American Southwest, with some of the dinosaurs sold off to nations, mega-corporations, arms dealers, and wealthy individuals. It’s a thrilling concept, and yet the naked desire on the part of the filmmakers to establish a genuinely franchise-worthy Jurassic World is apparent. I can’t hate on them too hard, though; while I’m sick of the exponentially increasing number of expanded cinematic universes and films set within them, I like the idea of the Jurassic Park franchise being able to play with the dinosaurs in some radically new ways. And if they’re going to keep making these movies, at least they finally got away from the islands! It’s a daring move to make, and I think it mostly pays off.
There are a lot of interesting ideas under the hood in this film, but none are really developed very much. The destructive, over-reaching nature of humanity and the rapid weaponization of new technologies are pretty central. There are also questions about whether humanity has a responsibility to preserve life, especially when we are responsible for endangering it–or even when, as here, we are the reason that that life exists in the first place. There’s not a lot of heavy philosophizing, except for the maybe ten minutes that Jeff Goldblum appears throughout the film to lecture as Ian Malcolm in an apparently perpetual Congressional hearing. There are a couple of poorly considered jabs at Trumpian smugness and greed; Wheatley says that one character is such a “nasty woman,” and the auctioneer responsible for selling the dinosaurs brought back to the mainland has horrible reddish-blonde hair arced in a fluffy comb-over. (I don’t like Trump, I’m opposed to his policies, and I didn’t vote for him, but these little side-swipes added nothing to the film’s themes or philosophy and frankly weren’t very funny.)
The dinosaurs themselves are mostly great. Sometimes they look very obviously like computer-generated animals, but most of the time they’re beautiful or terrifying or both. It’s disappointing that we still have dinosaurs drawing from nineties paleontological visions, but those are the animals we had in all the other installments in the franchise, and I suppose that only a hard reboot would correct course now.
My biggest complaint is that this is not just another Jurassic Park movie; it’s something new. In other words, it’s less that I think its tone is flawed, but it’s alien to me and doesn’t quite jibe with my expectations. Jurassic Park, from the beginning, has always been a bit scary and full of action, but it’s also always clearly portrayed the wonder and mystery of these prehistoric animals. And they are animals, not just simple monsters! Fallen Kingdom pays lip service to the idea. Claire monologues about how the return of the dinosaurs is a miracle and how first seeing these mythic creatures is awe-inspiring. And we have a single scene in which paleo-veterinarian Zia is overcome by the experience of seeing a Brachiosaurus up close and personal–but that scene felt cold, the Brachiosaurus unconvincing, the pacing rushed to get to the next action set, all of it just a cute nod to the first big reveal in Jurassic Park. Most of how we actually see the dinosaurs in this film is in moments of violence and bloodshed. Carnivores fight herbivores and other carnivores. Lots of people get killed. Lots of dinosaurs get killed. And the central antagonist of the film, the “dinosaur” that likely gets the most screen time, is the hybrid Indoraptor, a cold-blooded killing machine that makes all the other carnivores seem warm and cuddly.
A big reason why I’ve always loved Jurassic Park is that I’ve always loved dinosaurs, and I could relate to the sense of wonder at seeing these animals in the flesh, could understand the temptation to risk so much to attempt to bring them back. It’s part of why Jurassic Park III, with its villainous super-predator Spinosaurus and its exceptionally cruel Velociraptors (poor Udesky), was such a disappointment to me. It’s why an otherwise fine nostalgia vehicle like Jurassic World still ranks below The Lost World to me (poor Zara). The more that the films shift toward horror, and the more that they seem to delight in the suffering of characters on camera (without much characterization invested in them prior to that), the less I’m interested. But that said, Fallen Kingdom works really well as Gothic horror! And it was fun to see the franchise do something different! It’s just not sitting quite right with me as a fan, but that’s not necessarily a condemnation of its quality.
I am interested to see where the next film goes, though. Thanks to Fallen Kingdom, they can do just about anything. And I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, it’ll be a good time.
Finally, to veer hard into spoilers, I thought that Maisie Lockwood’s character was fairly pointless, even though I thought that Isabella Sermon was excellent in the role. Maisie existed largely to be yet another kid in a traumatic situation, with plot-related justifications engineered out of that formulaic starting point. You see, Maisie, it turns out, is a human clone of Benjamin Lockwood’s original daughter. Sure, the ethics of human cloning is fraught with pitfalls. But this film does not explore those concerns and treats the very idea as something that should be repugnant and shocking. Yet this is a film where genetically engineered dinosaurs are just a fact of existence–including dinosaurs like the Velociraptor, which in the film franchise’s canon are at least as smart as primates. There is a lot of foreshadowing to build to what is a fairly disappointing reveal of Maisie’s clone identity, with virtually no narrative impact, except that when Maisie impulsively releases the caged and dying dinosaurs into the wild at the end when Claire decides not to, her justification that they deserve to live just like her seems reasonable enough coming from a child. (Seriously. It’s such a dumb explanation for such a radical action. You’re risking environmental catastrophe here, kid. These dinosaurs are from a paleo-ecology with virtually no relation to our own.) Oh, I guess she also finds out about Eli’s scheme to sell the dinosaurs, but this information only gets her grandpa/dad killed and serves to dump exposition on our protagonists while they are literally watching the auction happen.
Okay, one other complaint. The bad guys capture our heroes and lock them in a cage before the auction. The bad guys already tried to kill them. Everyone thinks they died on the island in the volcanic eruption anyway. If they get out, the bad guys’ plans are ruined. The bad guys imply that they’ll kill them later anyway. So why don’t the bad guys just kill them? I’m willing to accept any arbitrary explanation–the bad guys like to gloat, they want the heroes to see how they failed, the bad guys want to be merciful and may not kill them after all, the bad guys want a bargaining chip, etc. I’ll take any contrived, overused explanation you’ll give me to get through the second-act-low-point. But you have to give me something! And that was absent here. Hell, I’ll accept that the dinosaurs in these movies always conveniently get clumsy and slow and disoriented whenever chasing the protagonists in these films, no matter how ridiculous this recurrent excuse gets for these alleged cheetah-speed animals. I’ll take anything. And nothing was provided.
Still, these concerns don’t wreck the movie. Keep your expectations set for fun, not life-changing, and you’ll probably enjoy it.