Thinking and Writing

The Lost Message: How Should We Measure Jurassic World Against Its Predecessor?

As the last blockbuster ticket stub ripped and audiences bade goodbye to the warmth and freedom of summer, Jurassic World stood supreme, ranking in $1.669 billion against a $150 million budget. From many perspective, that figure alone makes Jurassic World one of the most successful blockbusters of all time, creating the same global buzz as its predecessor, Jurassic Park, when it exceeded $1 billion nearly 22 years before. Two films, two mammoth box office performances, yet as we remain reflective at the start of a new year, it only seems appropriate to contemplate Jurassic World’s legacy in the franchise’s canon. How true is the reboot to the cautionary themes of man’s hubris in scientific development and meddling with the natural order?  How true does Jurassic World stay to displaying the frailties of man in the technical age through horror and suspense? Most importantly, what is the film trying to teach us this time?

On the surface, Jurassic World has all the elements of a Jurassic Park thriller. Beautifully framed shots, an isolating, inescapable island, the hubris of man in testing the limits of nature, and the spectacle of dinosaurs coming alive through advanced CGI and animatronics. Despite these elements of the classic Jurassic film, the reboot misses some elements that made the original so horrifying, yet original. As mentioned, Jurassic Park as a book and film focused on the classic debate of science versus nature and the limits of man in the face of Mother Nature. The film, in addition to thrilling us, caused us to question the progress of man in the modern age, and whether humanity can destroy itself through venturing into new frontiers. It reflected the themes of traditional narrative horrors and tragedies like Shelley’s Frankenstein and the Greek’s Prometheus, feeding our fear that even good intentions can be rewarded with destruction. Although the rebooted Jurassic World dabbles in these themes, the execution is less effective and memorable.

For one, the tone of Jurassic World seems more appropriate for a pure action-comedy than the sci-fi horror that was its predecessor. As opposed to focusing on a group of in-over-their-heads scientists, the main protagonist, Owen, stands as a lone voice of reason with a macho personality and quick one-liners. Despite the chaos that ensues, you never feel that cool-headed Owen or those in the main party are in grave danger, thus eliminating the classic feeling of suspense associated with horror stories. Any deaths are reserved for side characters that are only presented enough to feel a twang of remorse, but not much more than the anonymous henchmen of your classic Bond film. This makes the film much more palatable, especially for younger audiences, but weakens the cautionary message illustrated in Jurassic Park. In general, the filmmakers seemed interested in presenting magnificent set pieces (the aviary breakout, the final battle between T-Rex and Indominus rex, and the raptor hunt) rather than presenting plausible plotlines to guide the characters towards those situations. While such narrative is acceptable in over-the-top action movies, it seems out of place for a tragedy.

At this point, many may say, “isn’t your analysis a bit critical?” to which I would say “yes it is,” but it reflects what many a critic thought about the reboot. Although the criticism above is valid under the Jurassic Park lens, Jurassic World (as with all films) deserves to be viewed with objectivity and separateness. Although the theme of science versus nature is present, it is not the main theme of the reboot despite some being unwilling to accept or even see a change in their beloved franchise. The story of Indominus rex and Jurassic World presents an open criticism of corporate society and the masses unquenchable desire for bigger, badder, and “more teeth.” Much like the theme of Jurassic Park was born from early 90’s anxiety and debates regarding breakthroughs in genetic enhancement and test tube fertilization, the reboot echoes the cautions of the unchecked consumerism that led to the recent recession and housing crisis. The difference in theme and context merits a different film, which many casual critics ignore in their assessment.

Many times we become so enamored with what a franchise meant before that we are blinded to a new message and theme. For instance, I found brilliant (I am assuming the director did this on purpose) the blatant irony that a movie decrying corporate America and unsatisfied consumer preference seem to jump on the action-comedy bandwagon made popular by Marvel’s commercial success (I mean… Chris Pratt essentially played the same character in Guardians of the Galaxy). The masses wanted Jurassic Park, but bigger, badder, and with more teeth, and Universal delivered even though it sacrificed the original Jurassic formula. Can the audience say Universal sold out? Maybe. But under the spectacle and CGI, Jurassic World subtly, yet unapologetically points the finger of blame right back at the audience for being what it is, a billion dollar plus summer blockbuster. Maybe like the Indomius rex, our unilateral taste for the summer blockbuster might grow to be unstoppable, overtaking diversity and creativity among mass media outlets.

As Hollywood continues to reimagine old franchises and tap into box office profits by playing on our nostalgia, we need to drop preconceived notions of what the franchise is and accept reboots for what they are--self-contained. Doing so opens our horizons to new themes that may hit much closer to home than we initially realize. Most importantly, it is how we keep a message from being lost.