There’s a moment in Jurassic World Rebirth when the camera catches a monstrous dinosaur crashing through the jungle with thunderous might, chasing our heroes down like they’re nothing more than ants underfoot. And in that moment—just for a second—you remember what it felt like to see Jurassic Park for the first time. The awe, the thrill, the sense of being somewhere both magical and terrifying. But unfortunately, that rush is short-lived, and what surrounds it is a tangled jungle of characters, subplots, and overstuffed themes that rarely go anywhere satisfying.
Yes, the dinosaurs are back—and so is the franchise’s favorite tradition of pairing spectacle with a lukewarm script.
Directed by Gareth Edwards (Rogue One, Godzilla), Jurassic World Rebirth wants to be both a popcorn movie and a cautionary tale. It wants to excite you, but also preach a bit. And in trying to do both, it ends up meandering through a confused tone that feels half-hearted on both ends. It’s like if someone served you a sizzling steak and halfway through started lecturing you on going vegan.
The Dino Dilemma: Spectacle vs. Substance
First, the good news: Gareth Edwards knows how to make things look epic. Whether it’s a flare glowing blood red against the black sky or a dinosaur silhouette framed by golden sunlight, Rebirth is undeniably beautiful. John Mathieson, the cinematographer behind Gladiator and Logan, brings a painter’s eye to a movie that often feels like it’s scrambling to be more than just eye candy. There are moments that are genuinely cinematic—big, wide shots of jungle terrain, terrifying close encounters, and clever camera tricks that build tension with finesse.
And when the dinosaurs are doing what they do best—roaring, running, and wrecking things—it’s honestly fun. There’s a convenience store sequence that’s surprisingly well-paced and a dizzying, high-altitude escape in a cliffside nest that will have your palms sweating.
But here’s the catch: you have to wade through a lot of exposition-heavy dialogue and character fluff to get to those adrenaline-pumping moments. It’s like sitting through a two-hour lecture just for a ten-minute rollercoaster ride.
Capitalism in a T-Rex Costume
One of the film’s biggest swings is its attempt to say something “meaningful” about the modern world. The villains here aren’t just dinosaurs anymore—they’re pharmaceutical executives. The true monster? Capitalism.
Yes, really.
There’s a scene where an obviously evil pharma exec (played by Rupert Friend with just the right amount of sleaze) rants about the life-changing medical breakthroughs they could harvest from dino DNA—then turns around and brags about potential profits. It’s a message movie, but one that feels at odds with its blockbuster status. The irony isn’t lost on anyone when the theater is also trying to sell you a $30 T-Rex-head popcorn bucket right before the movie starts.
This contradiction is never quite resolved. On the one hand, we’re told that corporations exploiting nature is the real threat. On the other hand, the movie itself is a cog in that same machine. It tries to critique the system while profiting from it. So, the commentary lands with all the subtlety of a Stegosaurus stepping on a Mini Cooper.
The Cast: Star-Studded but Underwritten
Scarlett Johansson leads the charge as Zora Bennett, a battle-hardened mercenary who’s hired to lead a team into a remote island where rare hybrid dinosaurs still roam. Johansson looks fantastic, of course, but casting her as a gritty, no-nonsense soldier never quite convinces. It’s a little like putting a designer handbag on a soldier in the trenches. Sure, it’s stylish, but something just feels off.
Her character is supposed to be jaded and worn, but she glides through scenes looking pristine and untouched. Still, she brings some presence to the role, and when she’s dangling off a cliff or firing a flare gun into the shadows, you’re reminded of her action chops.
Joining her is Mahershala Ali as Duncan Kincaid, her reliable right-hand man and boat captain. Ali is effortlessly good in everything, and here he adds gravitas and emotional depth where none exists on the page. A few scenes of banter between him and Johansson hint at a long history and mutual respect, and you kind of wish the film just followed these two on their own buddy-movie adventure.
Then there’s Jonathan Bailey as Dr. Henry Loomis, a charmingly nerdy paleontologist who’s roped into the mission for his dino knowledge. Bailey’s job is essentially to look cute in khakis and glasses while spewing scientific jargon, and he nails it. But the script gives him so little to do that he might as well have just been a cameo. Every time he opens his mouth, it feels like we’re pausing the movie for a science lesson.
Despite the talent involved, the characters are thin sketches. They mostly exist to explain the plot to each other, run from danger, or stare wide-eyed at CGI creatures. There’s little development, little growth—just a lot of talking and reacting.
The Subplot Nobody Asked For
In a baffling creative choice, the movie introduces an entire side story involving a father (played by Manuel Garcia-Rulfo), his two daughters, and the older daughter’s dead-weight boyfriend. Their sailboat capsizes near the island, and they end up being part of the action. Kind of.
But here’s the thing: they don’t do anything. At all.
They don’t help the main plot. They don’t evolve as characters. They don’t even die in a meaningful way, which at least could’ve served a narrative purpose. Every time the story cuts back to them, the pace drops like a rock. It feels like they were written in from another draft, maybe when the writers thought this would be a survival movie about civilians. But that version clearly didn’t make the final cut, so instead, we’re left with filler.
They’re just… there. Taking up valuable screentime.
Familiar Thrills, Faded Footprints
There’s a certain nostalgic pleasure in seeing dinosaurs do their thing. That thrill hasn’t completely vanished. When the creatures charge, when they roar in unison, or when a baby Velociraptor skitters across the jungle floor, you do get a little flutter of that old excitement.
And the filmmakers do try to mix it up. There’s a cool bait-and-switch with a seemingly docile herbivore that turns violent, a clever trap involving a flare and an underground tunnel, and a climactic three-dino showdown that’s clearly meant to echo the raptor vs. T-Rex standoff in the original Jurassic Park. These are the movie’s strongest moments—when it leans into action, suspense, and the sheer terror of being at the bottom of the food chain.
The musical score by Alexandre Desplat helps sell those moments, blending fresh orchestration with subtle nods to John Williams’ iconic themes. When that familiar few notes swell in the background, it tugs at the memory like a friend from childhood.
But nostalgia can only carry you so far. The footprint this movie leaves doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. We’ve seen too many dinosaur movies by now. The sense of wonder is dulled. The excitement is familiar. The sense of danger has been tamed by repetition.
Final Verdict: A Franchise on Life Support
Jurassic World Rebirth isn’t the worst the franchise has offered. There are flashes of ingenuity, pockets of tension, and some impressive set pieces. Gareth Edwards’ visual direction elevates the material beyond generic blockbuster fare, and the A-list cast does what it can with what little they’re given.
But there’s no escaping the fact that the script is bloated, the characters are shallow, and the story can’t decide what it wants to be. It tries to blend big-budget thrills with social commentary and ends up half-baking both.
It’s a watchable film—especially if you’re just looking to cool off in an air-conditioned theater with some popcorn. But it’s not the triumphant return the Jurassic franchise clearly wants it to be. It’s a reminder that while dinosaurs may live on in our imagination, the magic of the original movie is getting harder and harder to resurrect.
Just like the DNA they keep messing with—it’s all starting to feel a little… synthetic.
