'Jurassic World: Rebirth' Review: Survival of the Franchise Over the Fittest Storytelling
Jonathan Bailey and Scarlett Johansson in ‘Jurassic World: Rebirth.’ - JASIN BOLAND/UNIVERSAL PICTURES
What began as a meditation on chaos theory is now just chaotic theory—'Jurassic World: Rebirth' is an empty roar.
Dinosaurs, it seems, never truly go extinct—especially not when they remain reliable engines of box-office dominance. Jurassic World: Rebirth, the latest fossil from Universal’s long-running franchise, arrives cloaked in nostalgia, roaring about a return to origins, only to deliver more of the same: corporate gloss, thematic dilution, and evolutionary stagnation. Though it promises a bold rebirth of the beloved cinematic lineage, the film amounts to little more than a lukewarm resurrection, entombed in the kind of brand-centric filmmaking that prioritizes studio portfolios over artistic pulse.
Directed by Gareth Edwards—who previously infused Godzilla with solemn grandeur—this installment is strikingly absent of awe. Despite a few technically sophisticated sequences, the film largely stumbles through a pale imitation of Spielberg’s original magic. Its high production values and competent VFX can’t mask its hollow storytelling or its painfully expository dialogue. David Koepp’s script flirts with ideas worth exploring: the banality of dinosaurs in a world oversaturated with them, the moral rot of biotech firms, the environmental displacement of resurrected species. But these themes surface only to be abandoned, as if merely checking boxes on a studio pitch deck.
At the center of the narrative is Zora Bennett (Scarlett Johansson), a former elite special forces operative now reduced to a caricature of action-movie clichés. Johansson commits to the role with physical presence, but the script gives her little more than a grimace and the occasional quip. Mahershala Ali, as the brooding Duncan Kincaid, imbues the screen with gravitas, but even his formidable talents can’t animate a character so thoroughly underwritten. Their mission—to extract blood from three species of megafauna for a miracle heart disease cure—is as narratively convoluted as it is emotionally void.
Bechir Sylvain, Jonathan Bailey and Scarlett Johansson in ‘Jurassic World: Rebirth.’ - JASIN BOLAND/UNIVERSAL PICTURES
Their team of mercenaries includes the requisite cannon fodder: the arrogant techie, the wide-eyed scientist (Jonathan Bailey), the doomed redshirt with a backstory conveniently revealed just before he’s devoured. Rounding out the ensemble are a family of accidental interlopers, their yacht trip through Mosasaurus-infested waters so implausible it borders on parody. The setup is transparent, engineered to corral as many human chess pieces onto a single island as quickly as possible for maximal carnage.
Yet for all its sound and fury, Rebirth is shockingly inert. Edwards—who reportedly came aboard late in the process—directs with a level of detachment that’s palpable. His fingerprints, once visible in the awe-struck silences and tactile dread of Monsters and Godzilla, are all but absent here. Even the film’s most ambitious setpieces—a Mosasaurus ambush beneath a yacht, a Quetzalcoatlus aerial assault—feel like they’re chasing the shadow of better sequences from earlier entries.
The genetically engineered Distortus Rex, hyped as the film’s primary antagonist, lands with a whimper rather than a roar. It’s a monstrosity with no character, no presence, and no thematic weight—just a visual placeholder for the final act. Its introduction, movement, and eventual defeat are as perfunctory as its design. One can’t help but be reminded of how Jurassic Park’s T-Rex or raptors once invoked genuine dread and delight—creatures whose presence bent narrative gravity. By contrast, these new monsters are glorified PowerPoint animations.
One very angry T-Rex in ‘Jurassic World Rebirth.’ - AMBLIN ENTERTAINMENT/UNIVERSAL PICTURES
The thematic irony, of course, is rich. In trying to critique the commodification of nature, Rebirth becomes yet another product of it. Characters discuss the ethics of playing god, yet the film plays cynically with its own mythology, mining the past while contributing nothing to it. There’s an attempted homage to the iconic kitchen scene from Jurassic Park, but it falls flat—devoid of suspense, atmosphere, or ingenuity. It’s a reminder that legacy only matters when the present is worthy of it.
Perhaps the film’s most glaring fault is its failure to commit—to tone, to character, to meaning. It wants to be both a nostalgic throwback and a modern action thriller. It wants stakes without consequence, gravitas without investment. Even its environmental subtext—once a subtle undercurrent in the franchise—is reduced to a line of dialogue here, drowned beneath explosions and drone shots.
There are isolated moments of charm: Johansson facing down a Titanosaurus with steely resolve, Mahershala Ali lending a speech more soul than it deserves, a baby Aquilops given just enough screentime to be briefly endearing. But these flickers of life are buried under the weight of a script too bloated with lore and too starved for character.
POPULAR ON THE CINEMA GROUP
In an age of cinematic universes and IP fatigue, Jurassic World: Rebirth exemplifies the perils of sustaining a franchise beyond its natural lifespan. The franchise hasn’t just lost its bite—it’s lost its purpose. It no longer interrogates the tension between wonder and hubris; it merely mimics it.
To misquote the great Dr. Ian Malcolm: Universal was so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.
Rating: ★★★☆☆
Watch The Trailer Below:
