By: Bailey Ernst

I could see a variety of individuals filing in to their seats, comfortably sweating in anticipation, reaching across their significant other or critic pal to snuggle popcorn kernels into their lap-napkins. My mom was jittering in her seat, her eyes crinkling at the title screen with the humongous picture of a T-Rex looking like a nightmare.

I should clarify: I am terrified of dinosaurs.

When I was seven or eight years old, I watched the first film. And I’ve never been the same. Something about their sharp and menacing claws, jaws stronger than Jaws’. They’re like ultra Godzilla-machines that actually existed and, according to these completely real and scientific films, could exist again. Now tell me that ideology didn’t haunt your wee, little developing mind.

“Why did you go see a film that scares you?”

I did it for my mom. You’re welcome, JoAnn.

Besides the nightmare-inducing snake monsters taking over my delicate pupils and squeezing my internal fear box into oblivion, the overall message of the film was heartwarming. Saving species is extraordinarily prevalent these days, especially with the increase in awareness of Global Warming, Climate Change, and our waste killing off millions of animals (birds, turtles, otters, cute and fuzzy beings, etc.). It’s so easy to sit back and watch a species die when we go about our daily lives working and trying to balance life. We’re not directly affected by it, right? Wrong. Most of the viewers sitting around me, laughing at on-screen deaths and cheering for people to die as they suck audibly on their sodas, and slurp their liquid cholesterol, will peacefully walk out of here, completely missing the message on the way to their homes.

This movie tugs at your heartstrings and makes them into pink and puffy silly string. You’ll see why. I cried for those slimy and gaseous creatures.

The negative aspects shine over this wave of generous awareness when it comes to movie quality, unfortunately. The popular phrase, “the original/first movie was the best,” still stands. The concept of the villain’s masterplan bares a similar blueprint to the previous film, forcing me to wonder if dinosaur movies are starting to become repetitive. Along with this is the still evident Hollywood sexism anti-trope, with the explicit viewing of the, “Female Lead,” having little to no taste of the dino-brawl. She can save the day once in a while, but god-forbid she get her dainty hands completely drenched in action. Even if I am being too picky, it sucks that it still shines through to someone watching. I wanted to see her take the lead and not have to, “protect the child,” 89% of the time.

Flourished within the Jurassic Park franchise lies the essence of continuous heart and pure humanitarianism. Every Jurassic film has its downfall, whether past or present finds itself on screen, but their charismatic and heart-wrenchingly touching characters always enjoyably bounce back the film’s hamartia. With the ending being a possible sequel, I’m guessing the dinosaurs will have another place on our screens, and our hearts, very soon.

In the meantime, I’ll still be scared of glasses of water making small ripples.

And Jeff Goldblum.