I’ll sum it up. Dino doo-doo.
I don’t usually walk out of a theater and immediately start ranting, but after sitting through Jurassic World: Rebirth, I had no choice. Gareth Edwards — a director I actually admire, who gave us the grounded monster spectacle Godzilla (2014) and the stunning visuals of The Creator — somehow delivered one of the most soulless, phoned-in blockbusters I’ve ever seen.
Let’s be honest: the Jurassic franchise has been on life support for a while now. Dominion was a critical punching bag, yet it still made a boatload of money. That’s the thing — these movies are critic-proof. And Rebirth proves the point: a film so cynically crafted, so devoid of creativity, it practically dares you to care. Spoiler: I didn’t.
Let me put it plainly — this movie is either the worst or second-worst Jurassic film ever made. It’s a coin toss between Rebirth and Dominion. Every other entry, even Jurassic Park III, feels like a masterpiece by comparison.
There is no sauce. No flair. No tension. No soul.
The script? An embarrassment. Dialogue filled with exposition that attempts to manufacture empathy with half-baked backstories tossed out in 30 seconds or less. Characters show up, say something vaguely personal, and then we’re told to care. I didn’t. And when they die — if they die — it’s off-screen, weightless, and forgettable. I couldn’t tell you a single name of the disposable cannon fodder that gets chomped.
This cast deserved better. Scarlett Johansson, Mahershala Ali, and Jonathan Bailey — all doing their absolute best with material that feels like it was generated by an AI stuck in 2017. Scarlett’s mercenary is meant to be this badass, but she doesn’t do a single memorable thing. Meanwhile, Jonathan Bailey, playing a bumbling museum nerd, somehow ends up being more heroic and watchable.
And yes, there’s a kid. Because there’s always a kid. Because we’re trapped in this franchise formula where kids scream and adults make bad decisions and dinosaurs roar in broad daylight — where they’re least scary.
How do you make a Jurassic movie with zero memorable kills? Not one creative death. Not one slow-burn buildup of suspense. The movie wants to play in horror-sci-fi territory but strips out the tension, the teeth, and the stakes.
Even the most “hyped” sequence — a T-Rex lurking beneath a raft — is laughably toothless. You know exactly how it ends before it starts: with nothing. Because heaven forbid a character we’ve spent more than five minutes with actually die. The movie ends with seven survivors. Seven. That’s not a thrilling survival story — that’s narrative cowardice.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a modern Jurassic World movie without a new dinosaur that’s even bigger, more ridiculous, and even more CGI than the last. This one’s not a T-Rex, it’s basically an alien. A fake-looking monster from a PlayStation 3 cutscene. Where’s the awe? The grounded terror of the original Jurassic Park? Gone. Buried under layers of bad VFX and worse writing.
Edwards knows scale. He proved that. But this movie never lets him use it. The dinosaurs look cartoonish. The action is weightless. The whole thing takes place in broad daylight — erasing any sense of dread. There’s nothing primal or majestic about any of it. Just noise.
The worst part? This will still make a billion dollars. And we’ll get another sequel. And I’ll see it. And I’ll ask myself the same question all over again: why?
Because deep down, I still care about what Jurassic Park once was — a miracle of storytelling, suspense, and wonder. And every time they release another mindless installment like this, I’m reminded how far we’ve fallen.
Oh, and how could I forget the actual plot of the movie? Because of course, it’s Big Pharma. Again. Apparently, dino DNA is the miracle cure for heart disease now, but instead of saving humanity, the pharmaceutical overlords want to monetize it for the ultra-wealthy. Because nothing says Jurassic Park like a lecture on medical capitalism. Jonathan Bailey’s character is the moral compass, spouting “science should be for everyone” lines like he’s straight out of a TED Talk. Meanwhile, Rupert Friend plays Martin Krebs — the most cliché corporate villain imaginable — whose every word screams, “I’m definitely dying by dino before the credits roll.” It’s tired. We’ve seen it before. Just like Dominion with its climate change locusts, this one thinks slapping on a “topical” theme somehow makes the movie matter. It doesn’t. It’s just another layer of mindless, lazy storytelling.
Jurassic World: Rebirth is dino doo-doo. A soulless, tension-free slog stuffed with hollow characters, weightless kills, and a script that feels like it was written on autopilot. It’s everything wrong with modern blockbusters — big stars, big effects, and absolutely nothing to say.
Spare yourself. Rewatch the original instead. At least there, the dinosaurs felt real.
Jurassic World: Rebirth = 44/100