Jurassic World (2015)

I've previously mentioned Jurassic World as a movie that challenges (some might say "breaks") my primary litmus test for a Christmas movie: that any movie clearly and unambiguously set at Christmas must be considered as part of the canon. At the time, I brought it up to acknowledge the existence of counter-examples, and I had no intention of ever discussing it in further depth. But as the focus of this blog has expanded, I've come to believe there may be value in a closer examination of movies both on the line and - as I think is the case here - just on the other side of that line.

To be clear, my opinion of whether this counts as a Christmas movie hasn't changed on rewatch. While a handful of elements early in the film establish the events are set near the holidays (I'll be more specific in a moment), their use is fleeting, trivial, and somewhat contradictory. It's a detail that seems to be present for tonal and character beats that I can only assume made more sense in earlier drafts of the script.

By my count, there are exactly three holiday signifiers in the entire movie (four if you include the brief presence of snow). First, we see a dull wreath on the door of Zach and Gray's house as they leave with their parents. Second, beside that door there's a small bush containing visible Christmas lights (which are turned off, by the way). Finally, the song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" can be heard playing quietly in the background of the airport.

All three are notable for being intentionally drab. The wreath lacks color, the lights aren't illuminated, and the song is one about concealing despair beneath a veneer of hope. Christmas is present, and yet it is a shadow. Here, it's reflecting the boys' sense of loss tied to their parents splitting up. The context is different than Meet Me in St Louis, but the use of that song echoes that movie's sense of loss and impending, unwanted change.

I should also note there's an additional moment the holiday is invoked through the absence of being mentioned. When Zach is trying (badly) to placate his younger brother's anxiety about their parents' divorce, he points out he'll get two birthdays and two Thanksgivings, then stops short of saying anything else. "Two Christmases" is implied, but not actually spoken, perhaps because the movie doesn't want us wondering why there's no acknowledgment that it's Christmas now.

Okay, technically probably right after Christmas but before New Years, based on the probable school calendar and the fact the airport is still playing that music. But you get the idea. They were invoking the holidays earlier, but they don't seem to want you thinking about or questioning the timeline too closely. That's understandable - it doesn't matter to the movie, after all - but it's a strong indication this isn't really a Christmas movie.

The other thing the setting does is highlight the shift from the bleak midwinter landscape to the lush tropical setting of the park, making it seem like a sort of magical world the boys are traveling to. In that sense, this is reminiscent of Christmas fantasies from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, many of which weren't set at Christmas but were expected to be read or (in the case of plays) performed at that time (Peter Pan being an example still around, albeit having mostly lost its associations with the holidays).

I'm not entirely sure which were intended, though it's worth noting none really work all that well. The boys' emotional arcs through the movie are undermined by the film's divided motives in selling the park (and associated film franchise) as a nostalgic wonderland and having the brothers overcome their depression and embrace each other as family in the midst of a traumatic event. The park keeps shifting from a symbol of wonder from the past to a foreboding mirror of their own fears of life with separated parents - that's fine for the escapist adventure stuff, but it kneecaps the movie from evolving into anything with substance.

Likewise, the contrast between snowy, suburban America and sunny oceans is briefly effective, but it's less memorable than, say, a smash cut to a car insignia later in the movie. If we'd spent more time in the "normal world," maybe the contrast would have had more of an impact. On a similar note, parallels to magical Christmas journeys would have benefited from more Christmas (or even a Christmas release, though you can hardly fault the producers from betting on summer, given how well that paid off).

This could really have been set at any time of the year, including late December. The "all movies set at Christmas are Christmas movies" rule-of-thumb is predicated on the assumption that there's a significant reason movies set during the holidays take place when they do. And with virtually every movie I've seen, that's the case: the holidays shape the tone, character arcs, themes, or plots, or they reference Christmas media and tradition in a meaningful way. This is one of the rare examples where that doesn't seem to be the case. My best guess is Colin Trevorrow is a fan of Meet Me in St. Louis and felt the nostalgic heartache associated with the holidays would add a touch of depth to the start of the boys' arcs, but none of that really comes through emotionally in the finished product.

It's important to note the above is only an examination of the holiday setting, which might as well be random. This does not affect the quality of the movie either way. Jurassic World isn't bad because it doesn't choose to do more with Christmas. It's bad because...

Actually, is this movie bad? That seems to be where the consensus has landed, despite (or more likely because of) its initial popularity and astonishing box-office success. I've always found the movie frustrating, and think it stumbles in its attempts to develop characters, relationships, and tone. It isn't nearly as funny as tries to be or as exciting as I want it to be. But it's still packed with creatures, as well as a number of absurd sequences. The effects are rarely believable, but for a cheesy creature-feature they're not at all bad. This is a movie where quantity comes at the expense of quality, but getting "a lot" in a movie like this isn't a bad thing.

Of the six movies in this series I've seen, the only installment I'd rank below this is Jurassic Park 3. I even like Dominion better than this, mainly because Dominion drops the pretense and just openly descends into absolute nonsense. Jurassic World feels like it's pretending its something it isn't, like it wants you to think it has something to say or a story worth telling. Perhaps that's why I don't give it the same grace I extend to, say, Godzilla Vs. Kong (which I mostly like, despite... well... a lot of faults). Or maybe it's just the psychological effect of knowing this made something like 1.7 billion dollars - it's hard to escape the mindset that the world's already been a little too generous to this movie.

But success doesn't make a movie bad, and backlash is worth pushing against. I think this has some real problems, but there's a reason this was as successful as it was and relaunched the franchise. I'm going to at least try to be as fair as I can here.

Once we're through the opening, the movie shifts into a retread of the original Jurassic Park, albeit with the park now open and full of guests. That premise should make for a cool movie, of course, as the presence of guests should transform this into a full-fledged disaster movie. But really the guests are only relevant (or even present) during the chaos for a single sequence: the pterosaur attack. It's also interesting that during that sequence all children aside from Zach and Gray are conspicuously missing so we only see adults killed or in danger. 

Side note: by far the most memorable victim of that sequence is Zara, played by Katie McGrath of A Princess for Christmas, whose death was somewhat infamous when this came out. She's one of only a few significant characters to die in the film, and the others come off as more deserved. The movie treats the sequence as fun, which seems out of place given her seemingly painful, frightening end. Coupled with the fact she was portrayed as a slightly aloof young woman easily distracted by her cell phone, many saw this sequence as misogynistic. And I certainly think that's a fair description for what made it on screen, though I'm inclined to give Trevorrow the benefit of the doubt regarding his motivations. There's a behind-the-scenes sequence showcasing this sequence that leaves you with the impression Trevorrow was focused on spectacle and that McGrath (who performs her own stunts) is having fun with the whole thing. So, based on this I don't think Trevorrow is misogynistic... I just think he's a bad storyteller who doesn't consider the implications of what he's putting on screen.

That also applies to Bryce Dallas Howard's Claire, one of the movie's four leads. The other infamous bit in this occurs towards the end, when she flees from a T-Rex in high heels rather than kicking them off. It's all meant as a hero moment for the character, complete with an absurdly on-the-nose reference to Aliens. Subtlety would have gone a long way here: as a story beat, this is all pretty cool, but Trevorrow's inability to capture the moment organically turns it into something of a joke. Perhaps that's for the best, as a minute later we're seeing a T-Rex allowing a raptor to perch on its shoulder to get a better angle of attack on the indominus rex, the movie's genetically manipulated hybrid dino-monster. It's all a little too silly for its own good.

In addition to Zara, the other two characters who meet violent ends are Masrani (Irrfan Khan) and Vic (Vincent D'Onofrio once again reminding us why he's a legendary character actor). The audience feels no sympathy for Vic, who serves as the primary human villain. Masrani is a little more complicated - he sort of oscillates between coming off as a well-meaning humanitarian and a dumb, rich guy. As with Zara, this is a case of Trevorrow struggling to figure out what kind of movie he's making. Most of the time this wants to be a ridiculous B-movie filled with cartoon characters who die silly deaths the audience can have fun with, but Trevorrow can't commit to that, so it keeps snapping back to the idea this should be tragic or scary. Only Trevorrow doesn't have the stomach to invoke horror or the craft to sell the drama, so we're left with something in the middle.

Okay, we've covered Zach, Gray, Claire, Zara, Masrani, Vic, and the main dinosaurs. I feel like I'm forgetting someone....

Of course! Judy Greer is in this! It's a bit part (she plays the boys' mother), but it's always nice seeing her get work. There. That should cover everything important.

This isn't a bad movie, nor is it unenjoyable to watch. In fact, my wife and I had a pretty good time rewatching it and laughing at its bizarre choices (and, because we're total dorks, scientific inaccuracies). And there's an argument to be made that's how this movie was intended to be seem. For all the brooding philosophy around Chaos Theory, these have always been silly monster movies. Spielberg was clearly influenced by cheesy genre movies of his youth, and that vibe is absolutely present in the first Jurassic Park movie (and even more so in the second). You're meant to find a lot of this stuff ridiculous: that's not a bug.

But considering everything that went into it - including the cast, which is pretty fantastic - I kept feeling like this should have been a lot better than it was. Trevorrow isn't adept at juggling tone, so two-dimensional characters come off as badly written rather than funny. You can see this trying to be a Marvel movie of the time and almost getting there. All of which ultimately means your experience is going to hinge on how much you like the dinosaurs (which, let's face it, is always the case with this franchise). For my money, these rarely look or feel real, an issue exacerbated by some baffling decisions around the hybrid (such as its camouflage power, which seems both superfluous and absurd).

At the end of the day, I feel like this falls somewhere in the nebulous space between good and bad. I think it's probably unfairly maligned by people who are annoyed something that's just "fine" landed among the highest grossing movies of all time. And, just so we're clear, I'm including myself in the group of people guilty of doing this. Hell, that describes half the jokes in this review. But I can imagine a parallel world where this underperformed and I defended it as a solid little throwback to old monster movies that serves as a better continuation of the series than Jurassic Park 3. But even in that parallel world, this still isn't a Christmas movie.