The recipe for a killer Jurassic Park movie isn’t exactly locked in a vault. Honestly, we’ve known the secret sauce since 1993: dinosaurs, jungle chaos, John Williams doing his magic, and at least one person who really should have stayed in the Jeep. So why’s it taken thirty years and six movies to land something that feels both genuinely thrilling and fresh? Beats me, which is exactly what makes this Jurassic World Rebirth Review so fun to write.
Look, I’ll give 2015’s Jurassic World its due, it was a fun nostalgia hit, but let’s not kid ourselves: it was basically a glossier rerun with more teeth and less Goldblum. Which is why I’m a bit shocked (in a delighted, popcorn-dropping way) that Gareth Edwards, yep, the guy who gave us the best Star Wars film of this century (I’ll fight you on Rogue One)—has now done the same for Spielberg’s mighty dinoverse.
🦖Jurassic World Rebirth Review
Jurassic World: Rebirth is an absolute hoot. A dino-fueled thrill ride that finally shakes up the formula just enough to make it feel like we’re watching something new—without ditching all the reasons we fell in love with this franchise in the first place.
Credit where it’s due: Colin Trevorrow’s Jurassic World trilogy (2015–22) kept the T-Rex torch burning. Even Dominion, which was somehow both loud and dull (dino-bore, anyone?), still raked in a billion bucks post-pandemic. Clearly, we’ll show up for giant reptiles, no questions asked.
But Rebirth? It smartly ditches the global chaos angle that Fallen Kingdom left us with (dinosaurs sharing NYC traffic lanes was fun but also… come on) and heads straight back to what works best: a lush, creepy jungle where you can’t see more than ten feet ahead because of the mist, and you just know something toothy is about to leap out. If it ain’t broke…
Spielberg’s fingerprints are all over this one. There’s the light touch of humor, the tight family core, and moments that are pure Spielbergian heart-clench. I dare you not to hold your breath when a kid hides in a dusty convenience store fridge, clutching a whimpering dino-puppy while a mutant raptor snorts on the glass. It’s vintage tension.
David Koepp—yep, the guy who wrote the original with Michael Crichton, was lured back. Probably by a promise of doughnuts and Spielberg’s personal “pretty please.” And thank goodness, because his sharp writing is a big reason this Jurassic World Rebirth Review gets to rave about more than just cool dino visuals. Sure, by the sixth movie you’d think anyone with half a brain would avoid an island infamous for prehistoric murder. But hey, capitalism’s gonna capitalism.
🧬Sleaze, Science, and a DNA Heist
This time, the shiny bait comes via big pharma. Because of course it does.
Enter Rupert Friend, oozing the perfect amount of sleaze as ParkerGenix’s Martin Krebs, who flashes dollar signs in front of jaded mercenary Zora Bennett (Scarlett Johansson in full badass mode) and idealistic paleontologist Dr. Henry Loomis (Jonathan Bailey, bringing the earnest puppy eyes). Their mission? As delightfully dumb as it is straightforward: sneak onto the foreboding Ile Saint-Hubert, snag DNA samples from the three biggest dinos by land, sea, and air, and cash out.
Naturally, the island’s also crawling with freakish leftover experiments from InGen’s last rodeo. We get winged raptors, ring-tailed diplodoci (they look as weird as they sound), and a monstrous six-limbed blob-headed beastie called the Distortus rex that absolutely brings the house down in the finale. Watching these creatures lumber, swoop, and chomp their way through a bloated cast is oddly satisfying. By the time we hit the climax, the body count’s trimmed enough that you actually give a damn who makes it out.
🎻 Alexandre Desplat Works His Magic on Jurassic
Can we talk about Alexandre Desplat’s score? The man pulls off that delicate balance of riffing on John Williams’ classic themes without trampling them. His music swells exactly when you need goosebumps. Then snaps back into taut, nerve-needling urgency when claws start scraping too close.
And Edwards? He paces this thing like a pro. He gives us quiet, tender moments, like Loomis finally standing in awe among the creatures he’s dedicated his life to studying, before punching us in the gut with a nail-biter set piece. It’s a dance of breath-catching awe and edge-of-your-seat terror that actually earns its big emotional swings.
If you’re in the mood for more edge-of-your-seat thrills, check out our Squid Game Season 3 Review, it’s every bit as wild and unpredictable. Who knows, you might find yourself rooting for your next favorite antihero.
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