I will be freely discussing Jurassic World. If you haven’t seen it, you may not want to read this.
I finally got a chance to see Jurassic World and I’m glad the movie made $200 million in the U.S. box office in its opening weekend. I’m glad it’s breaking records. I’m glad we’re going to get more movies in the franchise. But the one thing I’m most glad about is that the one black man in the movie lived.
Seriously, the one black man in the movie lived and that’s all I care about. I don’t need a well-written story weaving a fantastic journey from beginning to end. I don’t need well-conceived characters that don’t have obvious relationship problems. And I certainly don’t need to get to know and care about said characters in more than a formulaic way before the action starts. All I need is for the one black man in the movie to live. That’s all I look for in movies now. Did the one black man in the movie not die?
And the reason I root for the black man is because I’m Mexican and they don’t allow Mexicans in movies anymore. Hollywood deported our asses. So the one black man is the closest person to my color.
Honestly, I don’t care about all of the other stuff I could be complaining about.
Like, why did the dinosaurs act more human than animal?
Why did they build the door to the Indominus compound big enough for Indominus to squeeze through?
When the reunion scene occurred, why did it seem like Bryce Dallas Howard was the only one acting while Chris Pratt and the brothers looked as if they hadn’t heard the director yell, “Action,” yet?
Was I supposed to care about any of the characters who were eaten or died heroically in a helicopter crash?
How did Indominus communicate with the Raptors upon their first meeting when it was clearly stated earlier in the film that Indominus was raised by itself and didn’t know how to socialize?
Why was the one touching moment between the brothers attempting to attach me to them when the movie was almost over?
Why did I get a vision of an overexcited studio exec saying to the writer, “You know what would be better? If rather than T-Rex escaping its paddock and meeting Indominus by chance, if Bryce Dallas Howard used the flare thing from the first Jurassic Park to lead the T-Rex to Indominus to start the fight! Ding ding, baby! Ding ding!”
Why did I get a vision of an overexcited studio exec saying to the writer, “You know what would be better? If rather than the T-Rex narrowly beating Indominus by itself, if one surviving Raptor teamed up with the T-Rex because they both know they have to take out Indominus! It’d be a total 180 from the first Jurassic Park when the T-Rex fought the Raptors!”
Why did I get a vision of an overexcited studio exec saying to the writer, “You know what would be better? If in the final action scene, we mimicked the ‘shark popping out of the water and eating Samuel L. Jackson’ scene in Deep Blue Sea! You know, because Sam Jack was in the first Jurassic Park!”
I could be complaining about all of that, and trained Raptors, but I’m not. Why? Because the one black man in the movie lived.
Hey, I’ll take even the smallest of victories.
I’m not even going to complain about that last Raptor having more of a connection to the heroic white guy than its own stomach. See, Dr. Grant? You can suppress 65 million years of gut instinct.
But really. I’m not complaining.
And yes, I did get a vision of an overemotional studio exec saying to the writer, “I’m telling you, man, that note I gave you about putting in a touching moment in which both the T-Rex and Raptor leave in peace at the end? That’s gold, man. That’s gold. It’s like their closure from when they attacked each other in the first Jurassic Park. I can’t stop crying just talking about it.”