Friday's Oxymoron: Corporate Culture

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‘Jurassic World,’ the Franchise Feeds the Beast

By MANOHLA DARGISJUNE 11, 2015

Clomp, clomp, clomp — here it comes, another new blockbuster ready for its shock-and-awe ch-ching close-up. With its global brand recognition, “Jurassic World” comes with more muscle than the average big-ticket behemoth, one that’s been built on best-selling novels, three earlier flicks, theme-park attractions and the usual marketing tie-ins. Once again, dinosaurs are on the roam, an unpeaceable kingdom that is an index of the folly of man trying to play God. In reality, there’s more flab than muscle packed on this galumphing franchise reboot, which, as it lumbers from scene to scene, reminds you of what a great action god Steven Spielberg is. Too bad he didn’t take the reins on this.

Mr. Spielberg may not have directed “Jurassic World,” but his fingerprints — and anxiety over his influence — are all over it. He’s one of its executive producers and gave his blessing to the director Colin Trevorrow, who has just one other feature on his résumé, the indie “Safety Not Guaranteed.” As is the case with every filmmaker hired to lead an industrial brand to box-office domination, Mr. Trevorrow was principally tasked with delivering “Jurassic World” in salable shape, which he has done. Actors repeat their bad lines without smirking, and digital dinosaurs stomp, scatter and gulp amid product placements for Triumph motorcycles and Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville chain. There are so many plugs for Mercedes that you may wonder if the targeted viewers are studio executives.

That would be par for the course in an entertainment that’s as relentlessly reflexive as this one. Cinema is an insistently self-referential art (movies about movies being just one example), and filmmakers have long enjoyed drawing attention to the fact that, hey, you’re watching the big screen. Given Mr. Spielberg’s heavy shadow, it’s no surprise that “Jurassic World” almost immediately if obliquely nods at antecedents, including the first two he directed, with a character in the new one stating that “every time we’ve unveiled a new attraction attendance has spiked.” She’s talking about the movie’s dinosaur theme park, but she might as well be referring to all the special effects and other blockbuster add-ons that moviemakers use to try to blow the audience’s collective mind.

Blowing minds rather than, you know, telling a good story is the driving imperative in “Jurassic World,” which takes place on an island turned luxury resort where thousands enjoy a very special kind of eco-tourism. There, the usual suspects convene, including a pair of bland young brothers (Nick Robinson, Ty Simpkins), avatars for the sought-after demographic; the usual odd-couple cuties (Bryce Dallas Howard and Chris Pratt); and some standard-issue villainy that exists to feed the dinosaurs and our bloodlust. It’s a measure of how dumbed-down this movie is that while the three heroes in “Jurassic Park” were scientists, Mr. Pratt plays Owen, an indeterminate animal expert, and Ms. Howard plays Claire, a corporate stooge whose idiocy is partly telegraphed by her towering heels.

The heels come across as a joke, or at least that’s how the filmmakers attempt to skew them, with Owen telling Claire that they’re “ridiculous.” That Claire can actually run from dinosaurs, over cement and through mud, without breaking a heel off or twisting her ankle like a film-noir dame, is played as a kind of triumph. Of course it’s a hollow one and it’s representative of how the filmmakers like to point out the very clichés (genre, gender, whatever) they embrace, as if merely acknowledging them were a critical move. By the time Claire is shooting a gun, still in heels, you may find yourself humming that old fake-feminist jingle: “I can bring home the bacon/ Fry it up in a pan/ And never let you forget you’re a man.” That Owen is the hero ensures that you’ll never forget, either.

Dolling Claire up so preposterously is a glib tactic, although it’s unclear if the filmmakers were trying to tweak politically correct sensibilities or thought they were being clever, or maybe both. Whatever the case, the heels are just silly and a distraction given that they’re nowhere near as insulting as the rest of her. Owen may be a parody of a hunk, what with his greasy workingman hands, shirt-busting arm muscles and nicely coiffed chin hair, but at least he does cool stuff like wrangle raptors and, spoiler alert, Claire. She mostly just schemes and screams, before Owen melts her like an ice cube on a hot griddle, proving that, yes, she’s every bit as bad as Joss Whedon thought when on Twitter he called out “Jurassic World” as sexist: “She’s a stiff, he’s a life-force — really? Still?” Yes, still.


Winking self-consciousness and movie love are Spielberg signatures and they suffuse “Jurassic Park,” which pivots on an entrepreneur cum carny, Hammond (Richard Attenborough, who directed “Gandhi”), who could be a stand-in for any Big Man of cinema. It’s Hammond who’s brought dinosaurs back to dangerous life, and while he has the vision thing down, he also likes to mention the money he’s spent on his spectacle, cementing the Hollywood analogy. By the end, his hubris nearly does him in and his plans flop, a cautionary fictional failure that spawned a real-life smash. Oh, the irony or, as one of the writers, David Koepp, said, “I was really chasing my tail there for a while trying to find out what was virtuous in this whole scenario — and eventually gave up.”

Part of the pleasure of “Jurassic Park” is how seamlessly Mr. Spielberg’s deep love of movies worked with what was, back in 1993, bleeding-edge computer-generated imagery: the dinosaurs were cool, and the filmmaking fluid and vigorous. It’s a resolutely old-fashioned Hollywood adventure movie in many ways, but one that felt (feels) paradoxically alive because of Mr. Spielberg’s filmmaking talents and his absolute faith in movies. “Jurassic World,” by contrast, isn’t in dialogue with its cinematic reference points; it’s fossilized by them. From the first shot of a dinosaur hatching (signaling new beginnings, etc.) to one of a massive aquatic creature chowing down on a great white shark (get it?), it is clear that the only colossus that’s making the ground shake here is Steven Spielberg.


“Jurassic World” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Product placements and other violence.

[don]

Today's Oxymoron: Congressional Inquiry

‘Veep’ Recap: This Mouse Will Roar


Season 4, Episode 9: “Testimony”

From left, Anna Chlumsky, Reid Scott, and Timothy Simons in "Veep."Credit HBO

As the episode opens, we see an uncomfortable President Meyer, dismissing rumors that the White House lobbied against the Families First bill.

“Not. One. Ounce. Of. Truth. To. These. Allegations,” the president says.

Which means, as every amateur student of politics knows, “These. Allegations. Are. Absolutely. True.” (Think Bill Clinton’s infamous “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” quote.)

And so begins this episode of “Veep,” which plays out largely in a House Judiciary Committee hearing room and in depositions around Washington, as the show’s entire ensemble is called to testify. The result? A series of halting and deliciously awkward disclosures and obfuscations about the events of the previous weeks, from the scuttling of the Families First bill to the bereaved parents data breach.

Again, having spent the last two-and-a-half years covering Congress, I can say that this episode accurately captures many of the nuances and seemingly odd customs of Capitol Hill.

Take, for instance, lawmakers using hearings to ask questions to which they already know the answer. When someone asks Ben who is responsible for the data breach, he replies: “It’s a matter of public record that Dan Egan was fired because of his relation to the data breach. I mean, you could have Googled that.”

When pressed further as to whether Dan was actually responsible for the data breach — and, if not, why was he then fired — Ben again answers truthfully. “Well, Washington needed a sacrifice so we all ran and took out our pitchforks and set fire to the wicker Dan,” he says.

“You make it sound as if there’s a correlation between what should happen and what actually happens. I mean life is chaotic, and it’s often unfair.”

We also get to watch the seemingly meek intern, fired in April as another sacrificial offering, relish her star-turn on the witness stand. “The drama queen in me likes to say they sacrificed me at Easter,” she says. “They thought I was a mouse. Well, this mouse will roar.”

And we see Gary testify before the committee, consulting his lawyer and tweaking his answers accordingly. After saying that he is friendly with Dan, his lawyer whispers something in his ear and a chastened Gary tries again: “Dan is not my friend. He is a colleague.”

Gary says: “I don’t know why I said we were friends. That’s a fault of mine, just kind of believing people are friends, and they’re not friends. It’s kind of been going on since middle school and you just caught me at a bad time.”

Also on display is Washington’s penchant for bureaucratic double-speak so technical and convoluted as to be basically meaningless. “Congressman Pierce was not disposed in a way that was indicative of a meeting,” says Sue, the president’s executive assistant, explaining that — technically — Selina did not have a meeting with the congressman she is accused of lobbying against the bill.

“I literally have no idea what that sentence means,” Sue’s questioner says, prompting a slightly more clear response.

“There is a difference between meeting someone and having a meeting with them,” Sue says. “I once met Bill Gates, but I didn’t have a ‘meeting’ with him.”

Catherine’s fiancé, Jason, also comes under scrutiny concerning whether he is a lobbyist, or a merely a consultant (who lobbies). After quibbling over that distinction, Selina makes a political decision — that Catherine and Jason must break up — and we again witness her daughter’s life succumbing to the whims of her mother’s ambitions and narcissism.

In a moment that perfectly captures how the personal is political and the political is personal, Selina announces the news by reading from a prepared statement.

“I am sad to confirm the end of my daughter Catherine’s engagement to Jason Reed,” the president says. “This was for personal reasons, unconnected to the ongoing inquiries into my administration. Other than the strain said inquiries brought upon their relationship. This may be a good day for truth, but a sad day for love.”

Throughout the episode, each character tries to hide the truth, even as he or she inadvertently blunders another damaging disclosure. And, of course, this being “Veep,” everyone also tries to save themselves and shift the blame.

In Dan’s deposition, for instance, he offers to do a “rat and roll” only to find that all of his admissions have already come out in the hearing room. Finally, he somewhat implausibly turns on Gary, whom he likens to Keyser Soze in “The Usual Suspects.” When it becomes clear the woman questioning him has never seen the movie, he offers, “He’s the bag man, yeah, but he’s also the bad man.”

By the end of the episode, however, it becomes clear that the administration has decided on a new scapegoat — the president’s communication’s director, Bill Ericsson. Suddenly, his name trills off the lips of witness after witness, sometimes before they’re even been asked.

Bill Ericsson, Bill Ericsson, Bill Ericsson.

“Do you want me to take off my shirt so that you can see all the knives handles sticking out of my back,” Bill asks the assembled lawmakers, as the credits prepare to roll. “It’s like I’m on the sacrificial altar and suddenly everybody is wearing hoods.”

Welcome to Washington, Bill Ericsson. As President Harry Truman famously (allegedly) said, If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.

Best Lines

• Kent, defending himself to the committee against allegations that he knew about supposed misdeeds, yet did nothing to stop them: “Well, though it may appear that there was nothing going on, I can assure you that there was lots going on underneath. Like a swan. Or Professor Hawking.”

• Selina, trying to undermine some damaging testimony from Gary: “Gary has a very limited set of skills. Mainly I would say they are picking objects up and then putting objects back down.”

• Catherine, in response to a female lawyer, on whether or not she enjoys being questioned: “Not about my personal life. No, I don’t. I mean, do you? Assuming that you have one. I don’t see that you’re wearing a ring.”

[don]

Today's Oxymoron: Congressional Inquiry

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