After years of diminishing returns and dino-fatigue, Jurassic World: Rebirth does something genuinely surprising—it brings the franchise back to life with a pulse-pounding, suspense-heavy adventure that may just be the best entry since The Lost World.
Set twelve years after the Jurassic World catastrophe, Gareth Edwards’s lean, atmospheric reboot sidesteps the theme park formula to deliver something darker, weirder, and more survivalist. The dinosaurs aren’t just exhibits or weapons anymore—they’re endangered creatures adapting to a hostile Earth, lurking in equatorial dead zones that double as no-go areas for humanity. Into one such zone sails a team of mercenaries and scientists, tasked with retrieving DNA samples for a revolutionary new medical treatment. Needless to say, it does not go smoothly.
Scarlett Johansson leads the cast as Zora Bennett, a covert ops specialist with just enough grit and moral ambiguity to anchor the film’s wilder sci-fi turns. She’s supported by Mahershala Ali as the noble expedition leader Duncan, and Jonathan Bailey as Dr. Henry Loomis, the only character who seems appropriately terrified to be anywhere near mutated apex predators. Gareth Edwards makes excellent use of their chemistry and leverages his Rogue One-honed skills for blending digital spectacle with grounded tension. From the eerie quiet of the abandoned lab to the outright chaos of a helicopter takedown by the grotesque six-limbed Distortus Rex, the film crackles with suspense.
The creature design is top-tier. The new hybrid horrors—especially the airborne Mutadons—look and feel genuinely alien, and they move with a disturbing, almost uncanny grace. And then there’s the Distortus Rex itself: a nightmarish cross between a T. rex and something from a Guillermo del Toro fever dream. Its arrival late in the film is one of the most terrifying sequences the franchise has produced in years, made all the more shocking by the 12A certificate. Make no mistake: this is a scary film. Parents should take note—there are moments of intense dread and offscreen violence that may push the limits of the rating.
Visually, the film is stunning. Dinosaurs are rendered with astonishing realism, and the environments—from flooded ruins to mist-choked forests—evoke a primal, prehistoric awe. The action scenes are kinetic without being cartoonish, and Edwards knows how to build tension rather than simply deliver spectacle.
What truly elevates Rebirth is its sense of stakes and purpose. Beneath the dino chaos is a timely message about corporate greed, ecological balance, and the ethics of genetic science. Rupert Friend’s Martin Krebs is a perfectly slimy embodiment of capitalist hubris, and his gruesome demise is both richly deserved and brilliantly executed.
If the film falters, it’s in juggling its large ensemble—some characters (like Bechir Sylvain’s LeClerc or Philippine Velge’s Nina) barely get a moment to shine before being eaten. But even so, the core narrative holds, and the finale—featuring a daring escape, a last-minute moral stand, and a clever twist on pharmaceutical profiteering—feels satisfying and earned.
Jurassic World: Rebirth isn’t just a reboot. It’s a reminder of what made Jurassic Park a cultural landmark: awe, terror, and the uncomfortable realisation that life, uh, finds a way, whether we’re ready or not. It’s smart, scary, and spectacular. Long may this revived franchise roar.
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