Each time I pen a review of a sequel that doesn’t quite measure up to the original film, I am reminded of critic Roger Ebert’s brilliant opening line from his review of Halloween II (1981): “It’s a little sad to witness a fall from greatness.”
And a fall from greatness is exactly what we witness in the 1997 cinematic sequel toJurassic Park (1993), The Lost World: Jurassic Park.
Fortunately for audiences and fans of the franchise, it’s not a colossal drop. Rather, this first sequel dips from the realm of “classic” (like the original) to merely “good.” Bottom line: it could have been worse, perhaps even a lot worse.
Although marred by a disastrous final act that seems utterly disconnected from the body of the film proper, The Lost World remains enormously entertaining. The film plays like a tense roller-coaster ride and one crafted with uncommon technical skill to boot. In particular, an incredibly complex, nail-biting set-piece involving a double trailer on a precipice – in a rain storm, no less – reveals Steven Spielberg’s killer instinct and directorial legerdemain.
Perhaps the most significant difference between Jurassic Park and its sequel is that The Lost World feels a whole lot, well, meaner. While some fans and critics may consider this shift in tone lamentable, there was probably little choice. You can only play the “wonder” card once, and Jurassic Park did so superbly. Now the franchise gets down to some brutal, bloody business…
Technically astounding, and with protagonists constantly in “the company of death,” The Lost World represents an above-average sequel to Jurassic Park, but in both coloration and thematic tenor, the film feels very dark and even devoid of joy. There’s nothing wrong with existing on that plateau, but after watching this film you feel more throttled than you do enthralled.
And while beautifully rendered, the final image of the film — a fantasyland of diverse dinosaurs dwelling together in peace within a literal stones-throw of one another — feels piped in from another franchise all together. Given what we know of man, and particularly of man as depicted in the film itself, there’s no reason to believe a paradise like this would be permitted to thrive.
Even worse, given what we’ve seen of the dinosaurs, there’s no reason to believe they would inhabit this world either, living peaceably in such close proximity to one another.
“Our last chance at redemption…”
John Hammond (Richard Attenborough) summons mathematician Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) to his home to inform him of some startling news. A Jurassic Park “Site B” exists on an island eighty miles south of Isla Nublar, called Isla Sorna. There, dinosaurs have lived in isolation for four years. In fact, they are thriving.
However, all that is about to change. The new head of InGen, Hammond’s nephew, Ludlow (Howard) believes that the way to raise his company out of bankruptcy is to exploit the dinosaurs. Specifically, his plan is to capture the dinosaurs at Site B and bring them back to San Diego as a stadium attraction.
Having learned from his own unique mistakes regarding the dinosaurs, Hammond understands the folly of this course, and believes that the dinosaurs should be left alone to live in peace without the specter of human interference. But to rally the public to support his cause, he has sent paleontologist Sarah Harding (Julianne Moore) to the island to document life on Isla Sorna.
Because Sarah is his girlfriend, Ian heads to the island on a rescue mission, along with videographer Nick Van Owen (Vince Vaughn) and tech-guy Eddie Carr (Richard Schiff). They are joined by a stowaway, Ian’s daughter, Cathy (Beller).
In short order, a squad of hunters arrive on the island too, and commence a vicious dinosaur safari at Ludlow’s behest. When one of the hunters, Roland Tembo (Peter Postlethwaite) captures a T-Rex infant, it’s worried parents come looking for it, and the dance of death begins anew…
“An extinct animal come back to life has no rights…we made it…we own it.”
Along with director Spielberg, David Koepp returned to scripting duties for this sequel, The Lost World. Accordingly, the film feels like a legitimate continuation of the first film, right down to the feisty, occasionally corny sense of humor.
In terms of narrative depth, however, The Lost World offers something a lot scarier than science run amok, the chosen terrain of the first film. In short, the follow-up concerns capitalism or big business run amok, and in that regard is indeed frightening. Specifically, the film revives the axiom that the free market becomes ethical only when the cost of unethical behavior becomes too great a cost for the market to bear. Here, Ludlow has no time for ethics until he is on the line for murder and property damage. And even then, he’s still trying to figure out a way to make money…
Another way to parse the difference between first and second film in the JP series: If Jurassic Park concerned the wonder of dinosaurs brought to life via the auspices of science then The Lost World dramatizes the crass, inhuman exploitation of these DNA-created animals…for profit. In fact, all of The Lost World is suffused — at least thematically — with a tremendous sense of…responsibility.
Because modern, technological man created the dinosaurs of Isla Sorna in the first place, the argument goes that man is responsible for what ultimately happens to them, and must treat them with respect and dignity. We see this idea reinforced and mirrored throughout the film, in both a subplot about reluctant, absentee father Dr. Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) and his daughter, Cathy (Camilla Beller), and even in the story involving parent Tyrannosaurs and their infant offspring.
Warm-blooded or cold-blooded, we all struggle to be good parents, and preserve the future for our children. We can’t abandon our children, or we risk turning them into monsters.
Given this leitmotif, the film’s villains come under the camp of vulture capitalists like Hammond’s nephew, Ludlow (Arliss Howard) and irresponsible, merciless hunter, Dieter (Peter Stormare), a man who views every new dinosaur as a thing to bully, hurt, or beat down.
Metaphorically bad parents both, Ludlow and Dieter are concerned only how they can “strip mine” the island for profit, or for personal gratification. It’s one thing to create new life, to play Frankenstein, but The Lost World travels further down the road and asks, how does Frankenstein treat his monster once it is here, for good?
With humanity and grace? Or as something to be controlled and used up?
The downside of this storytelling approach is plain. John Hammond was certainly misguided in Jurassic Park, but not a villain or a terrible person. But The Lost World requires old-fashioned, mustache-twirling human villains to maintain its momentum, and they aren’t exactly portrayed in three-dimensional terms.
The up-side of featuring such cruel, villainous human antagonists, however, is that audience members experience a vicarious sense of justice meted out when the dinosaurs strike back and kill them. Ludlow’s fate – to be the plaything of a T-Rex child just learning to hunt – is absolutely “just” given his cavalier treatment of the dinosaurs. He believes that because his company created them, he “owns” them. In the end – at least before he gets ripped apart – Ludlow gets to experience what it feels like to be owned by someone else. And Dieter, after bullying tiny dinosaurs with a cattle prod, learns there is strength in numbers when the diminutive lizards team up to overwhelm him.
In terms of the “sequel effect,” The Lost World features more gadgetry, more guns, more victims and more leaping lizards than its processor did, so it’s carnage candy galore. Even better, Spielberg seems to be in a nastier mood than usual and dispenses with his characteristic sense of sentimentality. The film’s opening sequence reveals dinosaurs surrounding and attacking a cute-as-a-button little girl, for instance. Later, one of the film’s most likable characters, Eddie, gets viciously ripped apart by two angry Tyrannosaurs. And this comes after after working his ass off to save Malcolm, Sarah and Van Owen!
Overall, the impression is that this sequel absolutely means business, and isn’t pulling any punches. So obsessed is Spielberg, it seems, with the film’s action, that he stages an impressive (but also strangely obsessive…) action scene set in a trailer dangling over a high-cliff. This scene builds and builds, layering on new elements and becoming ever more intense, as if Spielberg is testing the limits of audience endurance, and also his ability to play us like a piano.
And…I like it.
At one point during the scene, Sarah falls directly towards Spielberg’s camera through the body of a vertically-tilted trailer, and her body strikes a glass barrier, a window. Soon, tiny cracks in the glass begin to spread and multiply, line by line, and the progression of the shattering glass — perhaps better than anything we saw in Jurassic Park — hints at the true nature of Ian’s Chaos Theory. Incident piles upon incident, action upon action, effect upon effect, with surprising results. Pretty soon, we’re putty in Spielberg’s hands, swept up by the progression of terror.
Again, this scene is gloriously nail-biting, and literally the last word in cliffhanging action. Through cross-cutting, fast-cuts and an unmatched sense of visual placement and geography, Spielberg transforms what might have been a short or perfunctory moment into an extended dance with terror as man grapples with nature, technology and monsters too. I’d give this sequence the nod as the best (and most technically complicated…) action sequence in the entire JP trilogy.
Another great scene in the film involves Velociraptors lurking in tall grass, waiting to strike a group of human passersby. Spielberg’s camera adopts an extreme high-angle, so we see only Velociraptor paths – like contrails— moving stealthily through the grass on a trajectory towards the unlucky human pedestrians. And then the dinosaurs strike and Spielberg cannily shifts to eye level with the top of the high grass, so it looks as though the men are being pulled beneath the surface of a roiling sea. In some ways, it’s the Jaws approach all over again, but once more, I must say I really like Spielberg when he’s in “mean” mode. When we wants to, this director can match Hitchcock or De Palma shot-for-shot in terms of visual aplomb and wicked gallows humors. As a viewer and critic, I appreciate it when Spielberg indulges that side of his personality.
The last act of The Lost World is the one that, as a critic, I have trouble with. The tyrannosaurus looks small and inconsequential compared to the gas stations, high-rise skyscrapers and suburbs of San Diego, and so the final urban scenes don’t quite work as they should.
Furthermore, Nick Van Owen – the daring “Earth First” crusader of the film – disappears completely from this final act. Wouldn’t he have agreed to help Ian and Sarah recover the infant T-Rex? Nick’s total disappearance makes the ending feel tacked on after the fact, like it was a second thought, or the result of a focus-group preference.
And finally, after the T-Rex rampage in San Diego, The Lost World culminates with that fairy tale shot. Now quarantined from the human world, the dinosaurs of Isla Sorna become literally one happy family. By showcasing all the dinosaurs (T-Rex, Stegosaurus and Pterodactyl) within one frame (during a pan, left to right), the impression is of a Kumbaya paradise that, simply put, could never be. It’s an unwelcome return to Steven Spielberg in his most sentimental, schmaltzy mode.
Make no mistake, the valedictory shot of The Lost World is absolutely gorgeous and brilliantly rendered, but would carnivores and vegetarians really mill about peaceably together for a Sunday afternoon in the park? Not likely…
I know a lot of critics hated The Lost World: Jurassic Park. I’m not one of them. In Horror Films of the 1990s I rated it 3 stars out of 4, and I stick by that assessment. The film entertains…almost relentlessly, and there is a subtext here about protecting the lives we bring into the world, through science or nature. The grueling, edge-of-your set action scenes work like gangbusters as well. But the script takes a few wrong turns in the end, and closes on a note of such utter fantasy, that you’re left, finally, with a sense that you have witnessed, if not a fall from greatness, then at least a small stumble from the path of greatness.
Next Week: Jurassic Park III (2001).