Movie Review: Jurassic World

         The latest addition to the Jurassic movie franchise hit the box offices with stellar numbers and lackluster reviews. Fans and critics agree across the board that the movie is good fun with steady pacing and it breaks the (not very high) bar set by the two previous Jurassic sequels. But with two and a half dimensions of character and plot, Jurassic World falls short of the cinematic heights achieved by its 1993 progenitor. 

         Perhaps the movie could have been better if the writers had put as much thought into the plot and development as they with the character interplay. At the level of character dialogue, the script has some very humanistic moments that the audience can relate to: like the romantic awkwardness between techie-nerd coworkers and the effect of modern day nuclear family dynamics on children. But that doesn't make up for the way the plot serves itself up on a platter. 

         In the first fifteen minutes of the movie, we already know which dinosaur is going to escape and how it will be dealt with,  who the villain is and what will become of him, and we already know how the protagonist interplay is going to go down even before the two protagonists meet on screen for the first time. 

         Regardless of lazy plot and character development, the movie is fun. The action sequences are well spaced out, and there are plenty of nods back to the original film for all the nostalgics out there. Even the plot themes smack of Jurassic Park's handling of gender issues, parental readiness, and corporate greed. All good reasons for parents from generations X and Y to introduce their children to the franchise. The body count may be a little high for a family flick. But if you, like many generation X and Y parents, watch Game of Thrones with your kids, then they can definitely handle the mild gore in Jurassic World.  

Breakup Letter from a Stalker

      Dear June:

         I never thought this day would come. I know it's naive of me to think anything could last forever. But I guess when you're young, you just hope. I suppose we're lucky it even lasted this long. Now it seems like we might have a great deal in common. Like, if we stuck with it, we could even have a future. It's for all these reasons that I have to let you know:

         I'm stalking another woman.                   

          I know we've only just met, but I've known you for a long time. I went to all your field hockey games and swim meets when we were in high school, I joined Model U.N. just so I could sit across from you in class; I even took up jogging just so I could follow you in the mornings from a steady 100 yards away.

         I've been very committed to this relationship from the get-go. I've sorted through your belongings and dug through your garbage. I even stole an entire load of your dirty laundry once when you were away for a week. I needed something to keep me company and I didn't have a valid passport to follow you to Europe with.  

         In the beginning, it was all so exciting. I used to follow your every move, like that song from The Police: every step you took, every move you made, I was watching you. Then I felt like every love song was written by a stalker for his secret crush (let's face it, a lot of them are written that way). 

         Now it's been a long time and a bumpy ride for both of us. I've made my sacrifices just like any devoted stalker should. After high school, I got accepted into M.I.T., but I knew you'd want to pursue your degree in liberal studies at Berkeley. That meant we'd have to move, but that's what relationships are all about. Luckily, I found a place right across the way from you. It felt like we were meant to be.

         Then last week I found out the horrible truth: you've known about me all along. 

         You bragged about me to your friends. You taunted them with glamorous stories about having your own personal stalker just so they'd feel bad that no man would go out of his way to get a secret glimpse at their naked bodies. I always kind of felt like you were really showy when you were having sex. Like you were putting on a show for the window looking outward. But I just thought it was my prayers being answered. Now I know the truth.

         Now I know all those dramatic hair-tosses in the shower, all those nights dancing in your underwear, all the lingerie you modeled for the mirror were really being modeled for me. I couldn't be more disgusted. I've been living a lie!!

         I feel it's only right to tell you I've found someone new. Someone special. Somebody who wouldn't give me the time of day if I was the last man on Earth. She's a waitress down at the pizza place I follow you to sometimes. I've introduced myself to her on three consecutive occasions and she still doesn't remember my name. I think this is the real thing.

         She's already put a restraining order on me, and her boyfriend beat me up the other night after he caught me watching them have sex. Now you know why I won't be stalking you anymore. But you'll always be my first; nobody can take that away from us. And I just know you'll find somebody else. Or anyway, he'll find you.

         XOXO