NEVER tamper with evolutionism—those were the words that I wanted to say at the end of Jurassic World. But when the huge T Rex stood on the roof deck of one of the huge structures in the theme park, the song “Pangako Sa ‘Yo” just walloped its way into my brain, or what was left of my consciousness at that moment. The whole thing, however, made sense. Kitsch, the impossible, the dramatic and the action, the Hollywood tradition of making the most fantastic work, the sense of false tragedy in the Filipino telenovela, the histrionics, the deadly sentimental—all these elements conspired to fuse in my being as I sat through the reboot of Steven Spielberg’s creature spectacle.
After so many years, it’s amazing how the dinosaurs who served as teddy bears for the young kids of the 1990s can still baffle us. Or that was the premise of this film anyway. Not even the best archaeological expedition can match the power of cinema to resurrect prehistoric animals. The story is a Hollywood fantasy: a park is set up on an island. It is Dinseyland once more without the castles and princes and princesses. The center of attraction are the dinosaurs created and made to perform like dolphins. Kids and adults can roam the valley in a specially crafted vehicle.
Technology has been so harnessed that a twist in evolution may now be enjoyed. Man/woman and dinosaurs can live together, so long as they keep to their containment. But the film doesn’t stop there. A park expert who develops what are called “raptors” can practically stay in the same place as these beasts.
Everything is going well, until a genetically modified dinosaur escapes and starts to kill everyone in sight.
Dinosaurs are fine, until they start thinking—this is the danger sign posed by Jurassic World. Indeed, the discourse of this film is interesting: monsters are necessary attractions, as long as we are able to produce them and keep them in parks.
Hollywood, once more, expresses the fears and dreams of America and those who lap up the formula for interesting cinema via the machine of huge productions. We are still into monster-creations, but if Jurassic World is to be followed, we are not interested in the makers of machine-monsters, but in those who are able to confront them. Thus, when the park is thrown into chaos, the mad professor who is not mad enough is able to escape. For the record, a character of Asian ethnicity is employed for the role of the scientist, Dr. Wu. We are not interested in him, however, because he doesn’t figure much in the conflict of the narrative. His escape, however, promises the continuation of the breeding of more dinosaurs, fiercer and more built for a park that will astonish and not bore.
We are focused on—even obsessed with—two characters, Owen and Claire. As played by Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard, respectively, the two leads will find—or in their case, rediscover—love in the valley of dinosaurs. Indeed, the story is less scary (which is not good) because these two people are not at all scared of any of them. They can walk into the valley of death and show the park-goers how to enjoy a life with these giant animals.
As Claire, Howard is campy at the beginning. Here, she is the mad scientist at the start, until the charm of Owen softens her too much. In the end, she pants for the brave dinosaur wrangler. Pratt is Harrison Ford without the quirky charm. If you ask me, the tandem of Claire and Owen is as old the Jurassic era. The film brings in the dinosaurs for a bit of new and different production design.
As to that Rey Valera song that waywardly invaded my thoughts, I really think now the lyrics connect: “Pangako sa ‘yo/Ipaglalaban ko [I vow to you/That I will fight for you].” I thought the dinosaurs there made this vow to Owen that they will fight by his side. Ridiculous? Nah. Just old Hollywood camp and charm.
Jurassic World is directed by Colin Trevorrow and is released by Universal Pictures, Amblin Entertainment, Legendary Pictures, in association with China Film Co.
For a horrifying offering, there is a film called The Vatican Tapes from Lionsgate and Lakeshore Entertainment. The film is about demonic possession but with the presence of the anti-Christ.
Mark Neveldine, the director of The Vatican Tapes, talks about how he has always wanted to do a possession film, something to do with the supernatural but “grounded on reality.” Chris Borelli and Michael Martin wrote the screenplay about a woman who has been consumed by the anti-Christ. Interestingly, Neveldine attributes his past as a Catholic school boy as having provided him with a personal grasp of the phenomena of possession and the anti-Christ.
Borelli describes the main character of Angela as “the everyday girl that we all know. While she hasn’t done anything wrong, this possession befalls her and as we follow her chilling journey, we are rooting for her to overcome the devil.”
The filmmakers say they tried to look for ways to rewrite the rules of rules of the horror-thriller genre. According to the filmmakers: “There are no decapitations, there are no blood sprays, and there aren’t any knives-stabbing-eyeball scenes. There are none of the normal grab-bag of tricks that you use in a horror film. This is more about subtlety.”
Neveldine says: “This is a film about demonic possession that can consume anybody. We don’t try to pull any punches…. We’re not trying to look for any jump scares. Instead, I want to get under peoples’ skin.”
The Vatican Tapes opens on July 22 in cinemas nationwide from Pioneer Films. You can check out the film’s chilling trailer at tinyurl.com/pzc4cj7.