By Susan Granger
Special to WestportNow
“Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom” is serendipitously timed to coincide with real-life Kilauea eruptions on Hawaii, an active volcano on the (fictional) island of Isla Nublar, near Costa Rica, is exploding, spewing gaseous lava, threatening the dinosaurs that were cloned for that ill-fated, prehistoric theme park.
Testifying before a Congressional committee, erudite mathematician Dr. Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) asserts that, ethically, there should be no rescue effort. He believes nature should take its course, noting: “These creatures were here before us — and if we’re not careful, they’re going to be here after.”
Ailing, elderly Benjamin Lockwood (James Cromwell), the billionaire who financed scientist John Hammond’s resurrection research, disagrees — and he’s willing to bankroll transporting surviving key specimens to another isolated sanctuary.
So he enlists former park operations manager Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard) who recruits ‘raptor wrangler’ Owen Grady (Chris Pratt). Along with two assistants — paleo-veterinarian Zia Rodriguez (Daniella Pineda) and tech wizard Franklin Webb (Justice Smith) — they helicopter to Isla Nublar, where a full-scale evacuation is underway.
Meanwhile, back at the Lockwood mansion in Northern California’s woods, Benjamin’s inquisitive young granddaughter Maisie (Isabella Sermon) is protected by housekeeper Iris (Geraldine Chaplin) from terrorization by despicable Eli Mills (Rafe Spall), the estate’s financial controller.
Working with an auctioneer (Toby Jones), Eli’s planning to hold a secret dinosaur sale, introducing a newly cloned, hybrid Indoraptor, which infuses a vicious Velociraptor with the strength of a T-Rex.
When the original “Jurassic Park” opened in 1993, audiences were filled with wonder and awe at the then-astonishing CG visual effects. We’re more jaded now, so this fifth installment relies almost completely on chase-and-scare tactics.
Drawing on Michael Crichton’s legendary best-seller, Colin Trevorrow and Derek Connolly concoct a nonsensical, superficial screenplay, as Spanish director J.A. Bayona (“A Monster Calls”) keeps the momentum rolling. And, yes, this time Claire eschews her stilettos for sensible running shoes.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom” is a suspenseful, yet somewhat stale 6, opening a window for future franchise installments.
For many years, John Travolta was obsessed with playing mobster John “Gotti,” aging from 32 to 61.
“John Gotti Jr. gave me his father’s coat, jackets, shirts, neckties, watches, cuff links, pocket squares — and the whole wardrobe fit me perfectly,” he recalls.
A fighter, schemer and gossip, John Gotti admits, “As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster …. This life ends one of two ways: dead or in jail. I did both.”
Growing up as an Italian-American kid in Englewood, New Jersey, young John Gotti was told by his father, Salvatore, that the mafia didn’t exist. As an ambitious fledgling, he worked for Neil Dellacroce (Stacy Keach) and became an enforcer for Carlo Gambino (Michael Cipiti).
Gotti clawed his way to the Dapper Don pinnacle after having syndicate boss Paul Castellano (Donald John Volpenheim) shot outside Sparks Steakhouse in 1985.
Married to his wife Victoria (played by Travolta’s real-life wife Kelly Preston) for 27 years, he sired five children, including John Gotti Jr. (Spencer Rocco Laofranco). Tragedy struck when his 12 year-old son Frank died in a car accident in front of his home.
Drawing on John Gotti Jr.’s memoir “Shadow of my Father,” it’s incoherently scripted by Lem Dobbs and Leo Rossi, and haphazardly directed by Kevin Connolly with music by Pitbull.
While Travolta’s narration pointlessly meanders through John Gotti’s life, the concept itself morphed over a period of eight years, whirling through three different titles, four directors (Nick Cassavetes, Barry Levinson, Joe Johnston, Kevin Connolly) and 44 producers. Fiore films’ mogul Marco Fiore went to Allenwood (PA) State Penitentiary for investor fraud.
Two weeks before it opened, the distributor Lionsgate sold this unmitigated disaster back to its producers, including Travolta.
On the Granger Gauge, “Gotti” is a troubled 2, a bungled biopic.
Australian actress Toni Collette becomes the new ‘scream queen’ in Ari Aster’s terrifying psychological thriller “Hereditary” about parents left with a diabolical legacy after the family matriarch’s death.
This ominous story begins with a terse eulogy for dementia-addled, 78 year-old Ellen Taper Leigh by her dry-eyed daughter Annie Graham (Collette), who describes her difficult mother as so secretive and suspicious that she won’t be missed by those left behind.
Barely surviving a harrowing childhood with a suicidal father, schizoid brother and this mysteriously remote mother, Annie is an artist who lives in a magnificent home in Utah, where she creates a mixed-media tableaux of tiny, detailed doll houses that are filled with miniature representations of herself.
One week after her mother’s burial, Annie discovers her secret journal about spiritualism and glimpses a barely visible phantom, her mother’s ghost.
Then when a bird flies into the window of the treehouse where Annie’s 13 year-old daughter Charlie (Millie Shapiro) sleeps, she calmly picks it up and cuts off its head with a pair of scissors. And Annie’s older son, Peter (Alex Wolff), a pot-smoking high-school student, gets involved in a fatal car accident.
After Annie goes to a grief-counseling group in which a participant relates how she contacted her dead son with the help of a medium, she conjures up her own séance, trying to reach Charlie. Meanwhile, Steve seems oblivious — totally unaware that supernatural forces may be at work, causing Annie’s extreme emotional agony.
Making his full-length feature directing debut, visually ambitious Ari Aster creates a pervasive sense of menace, even if the middle section sags. Eventually, he stages a grisly, gory and over-the-top finale, musically punctuated by Judy Collins singing Joni Mitchell’s ballad “Both Sides Now.”
On the Granger Gauge, “Hereditary” is a manipulatively subtle 7, scary stuff.
(Editor’s Note: Westport resident Susan Granger grew up in Hollywood, studied journalism with Pierre Salinger at Mills College, and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with highest honors in journalism. In addition to writing for newspapers and magazines, she has been on radio/television as an anchorwoman and movie/drama critic for many years. See her reviews at www.susangranger.com.)
