Life may find a way, but originality does not, as the latest CGI-laden dinosaur adventure trudges forward with standard spectacle and little innovation.
★☆☆☆☆
Universal’s latest installment in the long-running Jurassic saga arrives with a roar of blockbuster confidence, boasting a star-studded cast, a returning screenwriter, and box office numbers already surging into the hundreds of millions. Yet despite this commercial success, the film serves as a sobering reminder that financial returns do not always correlate with creative vitality.
Back in 1993, Steven Spielberg delivered not just a cinematic spectacle, but a moment of genuine awe that was captured perfectly in the wide-eyed wonder of Alan Grant (Sam Neill) and Ellie Sattler (Laura Dern) as they first laid eyes on a Brachiosaurus, brought to life by the ground-breaking visual effects of nine-time Oscar winner Dennis Muren. The film’s legacy endures not only through the effects and its iconic lines (“Spared no expense,” “Hold onto your butts,” “Clever girl”), but through a screenplay by David Koepp and the late Michael Crichton that offered a sharp critique of humanity’s impulse to control nature and a prescient examination of capitalism’s reach. It was never just a summer blockbuster; it was a cautionary tale with teeth.
Since then, however, the six sequels have largely abandoned that thoughtful foundation. Despite consistently massive box office hauls, each successive film has leaned further into commercial spectacle, often at the expense of narrative substance. Jurassic World Rebirth, despite Koepp making a triumphant return, is no exception.
Set on yet another remote island where scientific ambition has once again run amok, the story follows a covert government mission to recover a serum derived from these genetically altered creatures – only this time they are not really dinosaurs, but trans-genetic mutants. The special serum is intended, rather implausibly, to cure human heart disease.
Narratively, Rebirth leans heavily on tropes: the island setting, the corporate villain, and even the obligatory T-Rex cameo. The film gestures at deeper ideas, from shady corporations, militarised science and commentary on greed and evolution, but these themes, once incisive under Koepp’s pen, now arrive as perfunctory set dressing and content to cycle through well-worn story beats. It all feels tired and customary, as well as half-baked.
There is an oddly fitting irony in Rebirth centring on governments chasing down these new ‘non-dinosaurs’ because the public in the fictional world has lost interest in actual dinosaurs. It’s as if the film knows the franchise has exhausted its core appeal and is now stretching into new territory, not because it should, but because it has to. Even more telling: Marvel star Scarlett Johansson and two-time Oscar winner Mahershala Ali’s characters admit they’re only doing the mission for the money, mirroring what some might assume about why this movie exists in the first place. The plot becomes a kind of accidental metaphor for franchise fatigue, IP desperation, and star-powered paycheck gigs wrapped in a blockbuster shell.
Whilst the new ensemble is formidable on paper, the screenplay gives them little to work with. Johansson’s character, Zora Bennett, is conceptually rich as a mercenary driven by profit with the potential for redemption. However, the film never fully commits to her arc. She hovers uncertainly between hardened operative and reluctant heroine, with crucial emotional beats either rushed or omitted altogether. Mahershala Ali fares marginally better, thanks largely to his innate gravitas as an actor. Yet even he is left circling a vague character outline that never matures into anything meaningful.
Attempts to inject emotional stakes arrive late and clumsily, in the form of a hastily introduced family subplot. Their inclusion feels more like a studio-mandated afterthought than an organic narrative decision. The lack of cohesion between subplots, paired with uneven pacing, results in a film that feels more like a checklist of Jurassic tropes than a story with its own momentum. And, as mentioned before, the premise is absurd on arrival. Firstly, reptilian cardiovascular systems are fundamentally different from ours, but even in the land of sci-fi, it’s hard to believe that prehistoric wildlife genetics would be a plausible shortcut to solving modern humans’ more domesticated lifestyles. The film never even tries to sell it; it just assumes viewers will go along for the ride.
Visually, Rebirth is surprisingly unremarkable. Rogue One’s Gareth Edwards, usually known for his sense of scale, delivers set pieces that are technically competent but devoid of any wonder. Where Spielberg’s original Jurassic Park (1993) inspired awe with the majestic reveal of a Brachiosaurus, Rebirth serves its creatures as mere plot devices; digital beasts shuffled in and out of scenes for action beats, stripped of character or presence.
The dinosaurs, once the emotional core of the franchise, are now relegated to background noise. Absent are the moments of reverence, terror, or tenderness that once elevated these films above standard action fare. Instead, they are used mechanically, their appearances telegraphed and their outcomes predictable. Even John Williams’ iconic score, when deployed, feels less like homage and more like manipulation in an attempt to stir emotion where none exists.
Despite its shortcomings, the film is performing exceptionally well at the box office. Global ticket sales are already climbing into blockbuster territory, reaffirming the franchise’s commercial appeal. But this financial success may be the most disheartening takeaway of all. A film so devoid of narrative risk, so uninterested in surprising its audience, dominating the summer slate is a stark reflection of Hollywood’s current priorities.
The Verdict
Jurassic World: Rebirth is not without moments of competence, but it’s largely a product engineered for mass appeal rather than cinematic resonance. It gestures toward evolution but is ultimately stuck in its own fossilised formula. As the franchise marches on, this latest entry underscores a difficult truth: sometimes, it’s better to let the past remain extinct.
Words by Joseph Jenkinson
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