Forgive me a bit of grumpiness, but I've really grown tired with the BBC's never-ending promotion of the new "girl-powered" Doctor Who.  Now, don't get me wrong: I may not be all-in on the whole idea involving the legendary Doctor regenerating as a female of the species, but I'm willing to approach the new stories with some cautious optimism.  Rather, my essential gripe is "let's get on with it already, and where are the new episodes?!"  We've been talking about it forever it would seem, and I'm at the point that I just want the new adventures here so that I can watch them and make up my own mind on the whole affair.

That said, I did read that in order to build up even more interest for this impending new season that BBC America is doing a massive 13-day TV marathon that will include the airing of all modern era Doctor Who episodes.  It's all schedule to kick-off on the Boob Tube September 25th, and those interested in knowing a bit more can read the piece up on Mental Floss right here.

So pop some corn, and pick up some sodas.  Looks like the modern male era is going out in style, Whoovians!

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

I've always argued just how important Science Fiction is to the world of entertainment as well as the greater world at large.

For starters, SciFi's definition is so broad that it encompasses all kinds of stories with fantastic crossover potential to all other genres.  As an example, it's hard to take the traditional Western and cross it over with other types of stories, but Science Fiction can do it, albeit with varying effectiveness: one man's Timerider: The Adventure Of Lyle Swann (1982) is another man's Cowboys & Aliens (2011).  Both of those films take place in the Old West; both have elements tried and true to the original Western formula; and both inject their tales with equal parts Science Fiction (to a degree) in order to spin yarn for respective audiences.

Beyond that simple idea, Science Fiction -- unlike other genres -- has the greatest potential to be used in teaching others the various rights and wrongs of civilization.  Ex Machina (2014) showed the up-close-and-personal risks the individual might encounter when confronting Artificial Intelligence, and every single incarnation of Gene Roddenberry's TV juggernaut Star Trek has cleverly veiled the problems of the modern age with layers of prosthetics in order to make the message a bit more palatable for viewers.

So, yes, THAT'S how important Science Fiction is to mankind.

But don't take my word for it: Wired Magazine had a terrific piece that touched on these sentiments and more.  Those interested can check it out right here.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

Granted, the screen writings of Jeb Rosebrook might not cause so much as a ripple in most corners of the World Wide Web, but SciFiHistory.Net is hardly any regular corner.  In truth, I grew up with the SciFi films of the 1970's and 1980's, and that makes Jeb's The Black Hole one of the fond memories of my cinema youth.  It was a simple space-based adventure yarn -- far more Fantasy than legitimate Science Fiction -- but it certainly introduced a generation to the ideas of 'black holes' and other cosmic questions about what awaited mankind in the Final Frontier.

Rosebrook passed away this past August 31st, and I wanted to minimally mark his passing with a notice here for likeminded folks to offer up well wishes to a man whose work might inspire us all to keep reaching for the stars.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

Regular readers here know that I personally never quite get into the whole 'list' idea of blogging.  Now, this isn't to say that I'm against ranking films, books, or anything: it's just that the whole process seems very arbitrary and/or subjective, meaning that it only adds up to impact for the person creating the list, not so much the readers.

Still, occasionally I run across an article elsewhere which gives me a little something to think about; and I'm always up for sharing ... that's why I'm posting a link to WhatCulture.com's 10 Best Science Fiction Films Of The 21st Century.  Those interested in knowing more can access the piece right here.

Again: this isn't to say that I agree with the list.  In fact, there's a few on here I probably wouldn't include, and that's largely because I didn't find them an impactful as others available in the market.  But -- as I said -- that's what I mean about lists: they're only so good as is the person choosing them.

In any event, enjoy it if it's your preference.  As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

I know, I know, I know ... some might accuse me of violating some of the rules regarding 'Spoilers,' but in all honesty Solo: A Star Wars Story has been out for some time, as have many of the basic plot points and story developments.  Given the fact that it's coming available for purchase on home video (digitally and DVD/BluRay) this month, some of the obligatory promotional stories are starting to hit.  In that respect, Insider has a nifty little article regarding Darth Maul's brief appearance in the film right here, and I thought it worth sharing in the spirit of web-based cooperation.  Enjoy it if you will: should you wish to remain unspoiled until the purchase of the video, then ignore it.

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

For those of us who follow these kinds of annniversaries, Star Trek is the veritable 'Mecca' of televised Science Fiction.  This past Saturday -- September 8th -- the series turned an incredible fifty-two years old, another milestone worthy of our time and attention.  There were a host of articles all across the web, many of which were essentially retreads of so much praise and adolation that has been written before.  Still, the following piece over at Syfy.com caught my eye (link), and I thought it worth sharing with interested readers.  It's more of a trivia-style piece, which makes it different from the usual celebratory fare just a bit, and that's why I thought it unique.

In any event, thanks for reading, and -- as always -- live long and prosper!

Though I’m a bit long in the tooth, I have a vague memory of watching George Lucas speaking on some television program many moons back, being interviewed about his popular space saga, Star Wars.  If I remember correctly, this conversation took place not all that long after the writer/director revealed that his first film was actually ‘Episode IV’ in what promised to be a nine-part story.  (Yes, I know George now claims to have never discussed anything beyond the second trilogy of films, but I distinctly recall him saying “nine films,” so I’m sticking to my story.)  At this point, the puzzled interviewer asked something to the effect of, “Well, if Star Wars is Part IV, then why didn’t you start filming it from the beginning?”
 
As some interviewees do, Lucas stumbled around his answer a bit, perhaps trying to give his reasoning greater nuance than was necessary.  However, in no short order, he concluded by stating that all of the fun, all of the action, all of the really good conflict took place in this second trilogy.  Furthermore, he believed he had a means with which to tell this group of stories with only modest exposition explaining what came before, and he concluded that audiences should have no trouble following what was basically an old-fashioned ‘good vs. evil’ space yarn.
 
On that premise, Lucas was right: his Original Trilogy (as its been called) stands largely on its own merits.  (Don’t get me started on the ‘Special Editions’!)  A New Hope launched audiences into space; The Empire Strikes Back kept them wanting more; and Return Of The Jedi – though it’s easily my least favorite of the three – still satisfyingly drew the galactic saga to a close, leaving our intrepid heroes swapping stories around the Yavin campfire with those God-awful, incapable-of-blinking Ewoks.  Like most of my generation, I totally accepted the father/son conflict at the trilogy’s core, was thrilled with its resolution, and would be waiting for the day when the storyteller returned me to those distant worlds for the continuing adventures of Luke Skywalker and friends.
​

As Lucas had long intended, he then went back in time to tell the tale of the young ObiWan Kenobi and his eventual protégé, Anakin Skywalker.  Thus, the Prequel Trilogy was born with The Phantom Menace.
 
Reactions were mixed, some of which is owed to what could arguably be called (ahem) ‘inferior storytelling choices’ by none other than Lucas himself.  For starters, instead of having a villain as big, brash, and bold as Darth Vader, Lucas centered on politics (???) and some mystical skullduggery loosely tied to the Dark Jedi Order called the Sith.  Think what you may of any political system, I’d argue that it’s hard to make national much less galactic policy all that interesting cinematically, especially considering the target audience was most likely the same demographic sought with the original films (namely: kids).  Also, instead of serving up a clear hero on a hero’s quest Lucas spent time heavily focused on these worlds in conflict both internally and externally, letting his new and growing cast bob and weave as elegantly as possible between scenes heavy with exposition, some of which was provided in the broken, childish speech patterns of JarJar Binks.  Eventually, it came to a head, and thankfully the director included the ‘Mother of All Lightsaber Fights’ to give fans something they had long anticipated: visual conflict played out spectacularly.

Thankfully, 2002’s Attack Of The Clones righted the ship somewhat.
 
Anakin Skywalker was a bit older, and ObiWan Kenobi was only starting to take issue with his young padawan’s reckless disregard for the ways of safer Jedi.  From the film’s start to finish, the duo consistently clashed in ways that properly hinted of the throwdown-to-end-all-throwdowns.  And, naturally, who could resist the temptations of forbidden fruit?  Anakin and Padme Amidala fell in love, perhaps a bit too easily for some but necessary if they were going to follow the path laid out for them by fate.  Though Lucas’s political story still worked its way across the narrative, his heroes were given more heroics, from saving a senator from assassination all the way to subverting a secret plot to overthrow the Senate.
 
I’ve long argued that Episode II worked for me because it had a swashbuckling attitude.  Anakin’s disregard for safety was often overplayed by Hayden Christensen, and Ewan McGregor’s Kenobi felt equally stiff if not overly sour at times: consequently, their pairing was balanced quite deftly.  If only they had spent more of the motion picture together … 
 
Sadly, stars Christensen and Natalie Portman’s lack of onscreen chemistry ground the film nearly to a halt.  Too much of their relationship smacked of theatrical creation – a screenwriter’s invention – and not a legitimately realized love.  Scenes left me asking not so much why Padme would fall for the Jedi-in-training instead of, say, taking a healthy nap.  Their romantic scenes didn’t work for me the way I suspect Lucas intended, though I thought their pairing in the Geonosis arena was probably one of the film’s better achievements.  Maybe theirs wasn’t a match made in celluloid Heaven, but I still wanted to see how this Romeo and this Juliet found tragedy rather than serenity.
​

2005’s Revenge Of The Sith had more than a fair share of moments that finally delivered on the hype Lucas had long promised with his space saga.  The Senate was on a path to ruin.  The Jedi were no longer the hope of the galaxy.  Anakin’s fall from grace was (mostly) spectacularly realized the way I suspect fans had long wanted to see.
 
Toward Revenge’s closing, scenes were sprinkled almost a bit too mechanically, as if Lucas wanted to make certain he had tidied things up nicely despite the twenty-year-gap between Episodes III and IV.  Although one might quibble over a choice here or there or the other, Revenge still culminated as its master had intended.  The plot threads were woven to completion, with only a seed of rebellion planted.
 
Now, I’d never try to defend my position on the films or either of the trilogies.  I’m old enough to fully grasp the reality that there’s good and bad in all stories.  Whether or not I agree with Lucas’s choices as a storyteller is fundamentally irrelevant: the films were still made.  Their copies will be around far longer than I will on this big blue marble.  Creatively, this was his world.  These are his characters.  He can do with them what he pleases, and I suspect he did.  Though I clearly prefer the Original Trilogy over the Prequel, I’m honest enough to admit that Episodes I, II, and III have plenty of elements I truly enjoyed discovering.
 
Where I have a bone to pick with the franchise is the direction of it after Lucas sold the mighty product to Walt Disney.

Like so many, I had high hopes for Episodes VII, VIII, and IX … and those hopes were dashed when writer/director JJ Abrams revealed his first installment would be called “The Force Awakens.”  It was at this point that I suspected the wheel had come off the bus.
 
The Force can do a lot of things … but awaken?!
 
Didn’t both the Original and the Prequel Trilogy heavily underscore that The Force was a living entity all its own?  Weren’t we told that it surrounds us, binds us, penetrates us, etc.?  It’s omniscient and omnipotent, and what a Jedi does is harness it to accomplish the things he or she does.
 
So how exactly could it go to sleep?
 
I realize that the Prequels somewhat softly redefined how The Force is used and who accesses it (to a degree), but my understanding was clearly homed in on the fact that it existed whether or not it any Force-user accessed it or how that was done.  So why had The Force dozed off?  What tired out a living field in the cosmos?  How was that possible?  And had JJ even seen Lucas’s earlier films?
​

Sadly, the release of the film did nothing to allay my fears, as The Force Awakens felt like little more than a mash-up of scenes, concepts, and action sequences that Star Wars had done before but with vastly less-interesting characters.  Fans who had so long waited for the saga’s return were greeted to carbon copies of what they’d already absorbed countless times, and – though the genders may’ve been swapped – they weren’t expected to notice as JJ pushed it all out at light speed.  Kylo Ren was the new Darth Vader; Rey was the new Luke Skywalker (and Han Solo, by the way); Finn was the new Chewbacca; Starkiller Base was the new Death Star (even suffering essentially the same fate); and yet the film still made a boatload of money.
 
To worsen matters, apparently our original heroes wanted little to do with the galaxy.
 
Han and Leia had split up.  Luke went off to only the Jedi Gods knew where.  The droids?  Well, R2 needed a recharge, and C3PO was replaced by BB-8.  As fate (or JJ’s story) would have it, the galaxy hadn’t even really changed since Return of the Jedi’s climax: the Empire survived – just rebranded as First Order – so the Rebellion followed suit and set up shop as ‘the Resistance.’  (How fashionable!)
 
So far as I could tell, nothing truly had changed … so why WOULD the gang hang around any longer?  All they fought for?  All of their sacrifice?  It amounted to squat, and audiences were right back where we started.
​

Picking up perhaps fifteen minutes after Part VII’s ending, Part VIII delivered more of the same.  (If The Force Awakens stamped out the cigarette, then The Last Jedi snuffed out the spark.)  Finn woke up from his just-as-mysteriously-arrived coma; Rey’s delivery to ‘the last, best hope in all of the galaxy’ is answered with a thrown away lightsaber; and Poe is still racing from Point A to Point B without seemingly any real purpose.  The Resistance is all but obliterated in the opening battle and is doubly so in its closing moments: in between are a handful of separate storylines involving code-breakers, matchmakers, and risk-takers yet somehow – with no training, no direction, and no plausible explanation – Rey continues to defy and perplex the First Order with the skills of not so much a ‘Jedi Master’ as she does a ‘Jedi Legend.’
 
To its credit, The Last Jedi does possess a central idea: failure.  Failure is central to every plotline.  (For those who didn’t believe it mirrored The Empire Strikes Back, I’d argue it did from start-to-finish much like The Force Awakens essentially copied A New Hope.)  Writer/director Rian Johnson tinkers heavily with telling the audience to ruminate on failure, but for all of his characters’ posturing I’m not sure that I honestly understood what I’m to make of it.  Sure, it’s pervasive.   Sure, it’ll make your life hell.  It may even make you think, say, or do some of the craziest things ever … but that’s it?  That’s all I’m to take away … from a Star Wars motion picture?
 
When Luke Skywalker was defeated by Darth Vader in The Empire Strikes Back, there was this undercurrent of hope: you knew there’d be a rematch.  You knew Luke would do what he could to save his friends and the galaxy at large from the Empire.  He wouldn’t run away and hide on some distant planet to drown his sorrows in the milkshake of some alien beast.
 
Why not?
 
Well, because he was a hero on a hero’s quest, and that’s what heroes do.  They come back.  Contrarywise, the characters of the JJ Trilogy (as I’ve chosen to call it) have no quest other than one: survive.  You can’t build a future on just surviving, and I’m honestly a bit shocked that Walt Disney seems to be building a franchise around it.
​

If you’re keeping score, then you’ve probably already noticed the elephant in the room: why no dissection of Rogue One and Solo?
 
Honestly, as a viewer I’ve had no major qualms with those independent features.  I don’t think either of them as the perfect example of a great Star Wars film, but it’s easier to accept their inherent strengths and weaknesses because they’re completed visions and not features continuing a greater saga but instead supplementing and expanding what we’ve already known.  Each stand-alone has its own beginning, middle, and end.  Knowing some of the greater Star Wars mythology they separately touch upon typically enhances the viewing experience rather than subtracts from it, and – while I could quibble with casting choices or set pieces – I don’t feel anything that Rogue One or Solo has done has hurt the broader franchise.  Maybe time will prove me wrong.  We’ll see.

The Star Wars films post George Lucas’s involvement have been imaginative.  They’ve certainly expanded the universe in a way that has brought fans something new to ogle.  Each film has had its share of humor, and each has had a unique approach at incorporating elements from the classic films with a twist for audiences new and old.  Still, I can’t escape the feeling that they’re directionless messes, either.
 
Here’s perhaps the bottom line: one could make a strong argument that all a movie studio would have to do is slap “Star Wars” onto the front half of any feature’s name and that flick is quite possibly destined to make money.  (Yes, I’m aware of Solo: A Star Wars Story’s box office take, and who knows?  That might prove to be the only exception to the rule at this point.)  Essentially, there’s likely an audience for these films, and Disney’s investment in the entire Lucasfilm Empire is rock solid for a generation or two.  Viewers will always wish to swept up to the galaxy far, far away; and the toys, books, games, shirts, pins, and other assorted merchandise will decorate your grandchildren and your grandchildren’s grandchildren lives.
 
I guess I’m old and just wishing for the way things used to be, maybe how they ought to be, namely a return to the days when heroes willingly took up the missions to vanquish evil from existence and set out to change the world.  While saving what we love might be an admirable goal in today’s heavily PC culture, there inevitably comes a time when insuring what we love’s long-term survival means destroying evil once and for all.  No Bantha bones about it.
 
As for burning books?
 
My Yoda would’ve known better.

At the point with which I began reading Science Fiction, I was probably a bit older than most young men.  As a young’un, I wasn’t much interested in books, per se: I spent countless hours writing and drawing my own space adventures on the backsides of sheets of paper my parents brought home from their various employers.  Instead of losing myself in novels, I wrote my own stories, and reading was a bug that never quite bit me until my early teens.

​It was at that point that I discovered – perhaps simultaneously, if you can believe it – such authors as Mickey Spillane, Ray Bradbury, and Harlan Ellison.  (Don’t ask me how I ever came up with that combination; I just did.)  Spillane appealed to the budding Alpha Male in me, as his Mike Hammer character was quick with his fists and even quicker with his guns.  Bradbury, by contrast, always seemed to put a downright magical spin on practically anything – even the most mundane ideas – stringing together words into sentences and sentences into books that made the imagination run wild.  Ellison – as much as I enjoyed some of his stuff – really seemed like a bitter Bradbury to me.  I couldn’t say why with any specificity, but his particular brand of ‘what if’ always percolated with an undercurrent of despondency, of anger, so I had a hard time sticking with anything he’d published for long.  Either that or Ellison seemed content to create a magical, mystical place to visit only to then yank the rug out from under the reader, as if he were standing over their shoulders crying, “Oh, wake up, for God’s sake, it’s only a story!”

Consequently, I didn’t stick with him as an influence, though so many of the folks I hung around with for so long did.  They swore by him.  They read his stuff over and over and over again (the way I did Spillane and Bradbury).  They worshipped him as the veritable master of all things SciFi.

Later in life, I ended up picking up a collection or two from Harlan, and – as an adult – I enjoyed his work with greater understanding and appreciation; so perhaps he was so far ahead of his time that I just kinda/sorta missed the bus all of my contemporaries were all too happy to ride.  I suspect now that he’s gone, I might even be pressed back into service, seeking out and exploring just a bit more of what he’s left behind in a legacy that’ll only grow more impressive as I slip into my own Golden Years.

Still, I’d seen Harlan in a handful of interviews throughout the years, and he always did seem more than a bit angry.  I’m not saying whether or not his frustrations were justified – each of us much inevitably be our own arbiter of the things which rile us up so I generally pass on judging others.  Besides, I’ve never walked so much as a mile in Harlan’s shoes, and I can’t hold a candle to his immeasurable knack at making a point.  I’ll leave him be … but I do hope the hereafter is ready for whatever emotion he no doubt brings with.

Honestly, I’ve never been a big fan of traditional fairy tales.

​Don’t get me wrong: as a consumer of stories, I think that many of them are suitably grand, if not downright poetic.  It’s just that rarely have I seen them translated well to the silver screen, Walt Disney’s animated projects aside.  In some respects, I think it’s that these rather simple tales get “beefed up” and/or complicated with unnecessary subplots in order to make for a 90-minute product; and what gets sacrificed or cheapened is the necessary ‘moral of the story,’ buried under mountains of subtext not in the original legend.  Sure, the meaning is still there; but it’s padded so heavily with narrative baggage that it all feels diluted from the process in transforming it from the script to the screen.

Thankfully, Russia’s I Am Dragon (2015) serves more as exception to the rule, and I ended up loving it much more than I thought I would.  As imperfect as it is – with some drag throughout an all-too-commercially constructed fabled love story – Dragon ends up being, perhaps, the most traditional adaptation of a fairy tale I’ve ever seen.  (And, again, this is leaving out the usual Disney fare.)

Princess Miroslava aka Mira (played by the lovely Mariya Poezzhaeva) is slated to wed Igor (Pyotr Romanov) not necessarily out of love but from duty: as is often the case in fairy tale times, a union is oft required to ‘keep the peace’ between kingdoms, so these two young spirits are both doing what they must in order to maintain the status quo.  However, the singing of an old village hymn awakens the dastardly dragon, one who quickly swoops down on the wedding ceremony and kidnaps Mira.  Why?  It would seem that, in days of old, these villagers offered up fair young maidens (as dinner!) to the nearby dragon in exchange for leaving their kingdom untouched.  Just when they thought it was safe to begin their lives anew, the dragon proves otherwise.  So much for happily ever after …

On the dragon’s hidden island, Mira discovers Arman (Matvey Lykov), a young man who also appears to have been held captive by the winged serpent.  But before the monster can make a meal of either of them, Mira uncovers a dark secret: Arman is actually the dragon in human form, and he’s forever bound by a curse to serve out his days as the fire-breathing demon lest he master the art of self-control.

From there, Dragon picks up all of the usual fairy tale tropes.  Igor is destined to attempt the rescue of his bride despite confessing that he may not really love her all that much, much less with a true heart.  Mira’s sister has sacrificed her pursuit of nuptials – Igor’s ward – as it defies the rules of what’s an acceptable union between two kingdoms.  And the bounds of true love are shown to be powerful enough to navigate uncharted waters, bring peace to the faraway lands, and help a cursed young man control his inner beast.
​

Much of the story works very well, though director Indar Dzhendubaev’s carefully crafted visuals often times end up feeling and edited like one’s watching a high-priced car commercial.  There’s a slickness to too much of it at times, and the end result is Dragon feels like it was put together in such a way as to compete in the global marketplace where Americanized action pictures take a rushed yet inevitably choppy pace in order to keep an audience’s short attention span glued to the screen.  While there are a handful of sequences that feel truly lyrical, much in the way the aforementioned Disney animated pictures (i.e. The Little Mermaid, Beauty and The Beast, etc.) capitalize on storytelling for the young-at-heart, I still have to wonder if Dzhendubaev’s intent was to put the veneer of a Transformers’ production on what is essentially a vastly kinder, gentler, and more human tale.  If so, it was a mistake, one that can’t be corrected in post no matter how hard an editor works; if not, then perhaps the material may’ve been captured with greater nuance by a different director entirely.

Nonetheless, the film succeeds, especially the idyllic, almost enchanted setting the young lovers build for themselves on this hidden island.  Think of this as “The Blue Lagoon Meets Beauty and the Beast.”  Their developing relationship feels organic – as if it’s what Fate intended all along – and the actors – both who look extremely young especially given their ages according to IMDB.com – manage to make this fairy tale work in ways often reserved for animation.  Poezzhaeva’s skills could’ve used a bit more polish – the woman has to carry much of the emotional weight behind any classic love story, and she’s a bit rough here – but Lykov rather seamlessly shows us a man tortured by a curse not of his creation but one he’s ready, willing, and able to overcome, even at the cost of his immortal soul.

​According to Wikipedia.org, I Am Dragon failed to find an audience in its native Russia, and I couldn’t say why exactly.  Historically, dragon-centric features (i.e. Dragonheart, Eragon) have never quite caught fire socially the way other Fantasy works have (i.e. The Lord of the Rings trilogy).  As a live action feature, I found it quite compelling at times, though a bit inconsistent in pace.  (A more-than-fair amount of set-up is required to put all of these elements into place, so it’s hard to make sense of so much time spent in Mira’s initial imprisonment.)  That and the film sacrifices a no-holds-barred blockbuster finale in favor of the more traditional ending which speaks to the heart of its source material.

English-speaking audiences, sadly, have to be a bit older than the material is probably intended for, largely because of having to read subtitles instead of hearing this one spoken.  Reading a visual love story definitely detracts from the vicariousness of it, but those interested are heartily encouraged to check this one out.  It’s quite magical in all the right ways.

​Like dinosaurs, franchises come and franchises go.

​Those that earn longevity generally tend to continue bringing something new to the table, maybe not exactly with each successive installment but – at the very least – they try to deliver something interesting every other picture.  (Anyone heard of Star Trek’s cinematic success relying on its even-numbered releases?)  Generally speaking, once audiences have “seen behind the curtain” of any particular property they tend to sour on the whole premise unless there is that special something extra that wasn’t there before … and that’s the problem in maintaining momentum with the whole Jurassic Park phenomenon: five pictures in, I find myself asking, “Haven’t we been here before?”

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom finds our beloved creatures on the verge of (dare I say?) extinction.  A long-dormant volcano beneath the island is threatening to erupt, and the prospect of seeing these lumbering clones reduced to ash has put Jurassic World’s Claire Dearing (played by Bryce Dallas Howard) on a mission of securing a wealthy benefactor who’ll finance the world’s biggest relocation effort conceived by man.  Naturally, a subplot involving the fabled ‘Blue’ – the world’s first intelligent velociraptor – brings hunky Owen Grady (Chris Pratt) back into the fold, and our heroes set sail for the island with a handful of supporting new players in tow.

Sadly, Isla Nublar only survives for a few obligatory action sequences – well-constructed with the right amount of tension and endless running by director J.A. Bayona – but who knew rescuing dinosaurs would be so easy?  And most of it happened while the main cast wasn’t even involved!  Eleven species are salvaged, and before you know it the cast and crew find themselves racing against time to stop the scheming ‘power-of-attorney’ to a dying millionaire from selling these survivors on the open market so that he can … erm … well, so that he can have control of even more global currency than he already does.

Say what?

​Fallen Kingdom’s Eli Mills (Rafe Spall) is – without a doubt – the film’s silliest development.  Who knows?  Over time, Mills may just go down in film history as one of the worst film villains ever.  The only thing missing is a mustache he can twirl, but those watching closely will see one on a billionaire attending Mills’ dinosaur auction (complete with fashion model runway, I might add).  Derek Connolly and Colin Trevorrow’s script feels more ‘Sharknado’ in the second half than it does ‘Jaws,’ giving the entire franchise a Bond-esque twist albeit in an Austin Powers package.  Does Hollywood miss the inherent irony of decrying capitalism with a big budget picture seeking to fill movie houses for weeks on end over the summer?  Or are they just that lame-brained?

Whatever the case, Kingdom still manages to hit its marks admirably, delivering scenes of dinosaur-on-dinosaur action its fans have come to expect.  Producers spare no expense in keeping the thrills, chills, and spills up on the silver screen, even when it means sacrificing all logic by having Pratt’s Grady (an animal behaviorist by training) suddenly display the Alpha Male machismo needed to take out an entire military squad with fisticuffs at the auction gala.  If there’s ever been better evidence that the young actor could take over the Indiana Jones franchise (should Steven Spielberg change his mind about allowing only Harrison Ford in the role), here it is; and I, for one, would probably give the kid a shot at the title.

Much to my surprise, Kingdom manages to squeeze in some of the same, human sentiments of true scientific wonder that made the original Jurassic Park (1993) such a delight: from time-to-time, videos of Grady’s attempts to domestic the velociraptors are used to advance understanding of where we are in the present film, and Pratt does a particularly winning job at conveying the surprise and spectacle of these little moments of discovery.  Kingdom could’ve used more of that – those subtle epiphanies of interacting with a species long thought extinct – and maybe there’s even another film or two possible for budding storytellers out there who want to tell a more intimate tale as opposed to tentpole moviemaking.  Those flicks might not gross billions, but they likely wouldn’t cost billions, either.
​

​The bottom line?

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is a perfectly acceptable popcorn movie.  Sit down, turn off your brain, delight at the visuals, enjoy the ride, and don’t expect too much.  On that level, the film achieves whatever modest promise it makes to keep the viewer entertained.  But like that prophetic warning to the decades old The Wizard of Oz?  Don’t you dare look behind the curtain or you’ll be forced to abandon the wide-eyed innocence that brought you here in the first place.