Despite its "rotten" score, Jurassic World Rebirth is the Jurassic movie that I've desperately needed for decades.

The Rotten Tomatoes score explains everything: Jurassic World Rebirth has a "Rotten" 58% rating as critics disagree on whether we needed another dinosaur adventure. I understand the skepticism. We've been through the frenzied CGI madness of the previous three films, culminating in the inexcusable locust nonsense of Dominion. Walking into Rebirth, my expectations were underground. But, within minutes, Gareth Edwards gave something I hadn't experienced since 1993: true astonishment. For the first time in over 30 years, a Jurassic sequel recognizes that dinosaurs are more than simply cinematic monsters; they are relics of the past that should be seen with childlike awe.

Dinos are portrayed in Rebirth as majestic, tragic remains in a world that has grown tired of them, rather than as theme park fodder or military weaponry. Setting the plot 32 years after the original park's collapse wonderfully mimics real-world franchise fatigue; detractors argue people are "over" dinosaurs. The film confronts that ennui head on, only to break it with moments achieved through Edwards' superb combination of suspense and spectacle. That 58% is harsh for a film that, warts and all, remembers what made the original Jurassic Park so special: monsters become wonder, terror seems poetry, and Spielbergian pacing makes your heart race.

Forget the score, Rebirth's Dinosaur Encounters finally recreates that Spielberg magic.

Set Pieces Like The River Attack Are Franchise Career Highs.

Gareth Edwards' brilliance rests in his moderation. Unlike the frantic editing of Dominion and Fallen Kingdom, Edwards allows his monsters to breathe—literally. The legendary Titanosaur sight is fascinating, with air whistling through their massive necks and tails entwined like ancient redwoods. Dr. Loomis, played by Jonathan Bailey, gasped in delighted surprise, mirroring my own reaction—watching him felt therapeutic after years of Chris Pratt quipping at increasingly synthetic predators. Bailey captures Alan Grant's wide-eyed awe without imitation, anchoring our return to wonder in an honest way.

That admiration quickly turns to terror during the spectacular Mosasaur hunt, with swirling animals cutting 21-meter sails cleanly in half, driving our heroes into a dynamic battle against tides and teeth reminiscent of Spielberg's best catastrophe filmmaking. The river scenario, stolen directly from Crichton's novel, serves as the franchise's rebirth. Edwards throws our characters against a swimming T-Rex that chases them via rapids; dread builds as its leathery snout breaches like Jaws' ancestor. I white-knuckled my way through this stunt-filled marvel—the film's riveting tone makes even the most jaded critic think twice.

The "Dinosaur Fatigue" theme completely undermines what works well.

ScarJo and Bailey shine despite a flawed narrative choice.

Ironically, my deepest dissatisfaction is built into the film's intellectual heart: the notion that humanity might ever get tired of dinosaurs. Dinos are now fading relics, as noted with sincere grief in the film's opening moments—a metaphor for climate apathy, which is dismissed as old news. Personally, I agree with Dr. Loomis: "Any era that yawns at T-Rex deserves extinction"! When Edwards wants us to be afraid, his lethal apathy creates an emotional disconnect. How can gaping at the Quetzalcoatlus be meaningful if the rest of the world appears to shrug?

This narrative thread depletes the dinosaurs' iconography rather than enriching it, moving the emotional attention awkwardly to the humans, whose arcs can't quite bear the strain. Scarlett Johansson's Zora is a solid action lead—grounded and gruff—but her story is short. Without the seriousness of Neill or Dern, her team fails to compete with Bailey's cheerful paleontologist. His effervescent excitement whenever dinosaurs arrive almost saves the poor storyline, but Rebirth leans too heavily on him to express the passion that the audience should naturally feel. Wilhelm's orchestral theme surge elevates Bailey when appealing would fail—it's powerful, certainly, but it exposes the perilous gap this "fatigue" concept generates.

Rebirth avoids the silliness of its predecessors (and it makes all the difference).

This Franchise Finally Ends The Hybrid Mutant Madness.

Remember the Dominion plot? Bug warfare? Man-bat soldiers? The departure from cartoonish pandemonium in Rebirth seems groundbreaking. Both critics and I agree that eliminating hybrid creations nearly totally was critical. Edwards exchanges nightmare abominations like Indominus Rex for cryptically created horrors seen in tube-lined labs—an unexplained horror show that feels far more Crichton-like. Less mutant-tinkering equals less prequel baggage. It's refreshing to see survivors face animals defined by primal biology rather than sci-fi bioengineering gone awry.

This focus reveals what makes the third act memorable. When the dreaded bunny-eared "D-Rex" finally attacks, its look is horrifying, despite its origins in a bio-experiment. Jaw set like a Predator underwater? Sure. But that rubbery beast acts solely on savage instinct—no vengeance motive or drone coordination required. For the first time since Jurassic Park III, interactions seem fear-based rather than humorous. Even newcomer Dolores the Aquilops avoids cartoon cutesiness with her modest robotic movement, which evokes puppetry but lacks CGI sweetness.

Rebirth Isn't Perfect, But It Proves The Jurassic Franchise Has Blood Left.

Length and familiarity Cannot Undo Its Spellbinding Set Pieces

Make no mistake, I recognize Rebirth's shortcomings. At 133 minutes? Definitely too lengthy. The scenes with the "abducted" family drag before they charm—though, to be fair, tiny Isabella connecting with Dolores brings back fond memories of Lex and Tim dodging raptors. More criticisms about Zora's poor motivations? Edwards presents her repelling a Pterandon assault with balletic perfection, which is valid but unimportant. Playing "greatest hits" from previous chapters, especially that kitchen throwback, borders dangerously on self-parody.

But none of this undermines the monumental feat. Unlike the lifeless cameo-filled monstrosity that was Dominion, Rebirth earns legacy callbacks. We see the Brachiosaurus's tragic extinction once more, with grief recorded beautifully this time. The DNA-helix motifs exhibited gently represent new beginnings without requiring lengthy dialogue or lessons. Forget critics clinging to 58%; the Titanosaurus moment alone is worth the ticket price. Every Spielberg flourish—the rustling trees indicating predators, children unwittingly endangered—celebrates origins rather than belittling them.

Jurassic World Rebirth will continue to air new episodes; see it in theaters around the country now.

FAQs

Is Jurassic World Rebirth related to the previous trilogy? Rebirth serves as a gentle relaunch, providing new characters and locations while acknowledging previous events yet operating independently.

Does Rebirth have any connection to Chris Pratt's character? No, Owen Grady does not appear in the film; instead, Scarlett Johansson's mercenary Zora and scientist Dr. Loomis (Jonathan Bailey) are the main characters.

Do any of the dinosaurs from the original flicks return? Yes! Expect to see T-Rex, Mosasaur, and other fan favorites, as well as new species like the Titanosaurus and D-Rex hybrid.

Is Jurassic World: Rebirth appropriate for children? Its darker tone and fierce dinosaur attacks make movie too harsh for younger audiences; instead, watch Jurassic Park as a family.

Does Rebirth contain sequences from Michael Crichton's book? Yes! A daring raft attack sequence based directly on the Jurassic Park novel is a highlight.

Cast