As a joke, moviegoers (and probably archaeologists) have said, “There is no such thing as a bad dinosaur movie because…dinosaurs.” » But, hilariously, The end of Oak Street proves that this statement is not completely invalid.
David Robert Mitchell channels the narrative anarchy of ’80s and ’90s blockbusters that are, in one chosen phrasing, drunk on stupid slut juice. (A compliment, I assure you.) Mitchell doesn’t give a damn about explaining the temporal details of The end of Oak Street, because you’re here to watch era-appropriate dinosaurs (feathers and all) destroy a textbook 1980s metropolitan Detroit suburb. It’s like the San Diego part of The lost world but more unbalanced, since you will shout about prehistoric fragments nor about the Jurassic Park neither Jurassic world the films dared to show.
There’s not much depth to The end of Oak Street. Flowervale, Michigan is cosmically transported in a beam of light to a forgotten land. We follow the Platt family as they quickly realize they are no longer in Kansas…or the correct time period. Greg (Ewan McGregor) and Denise (Anne Hathaway) feel trapped in a stagnant relationship and hit missing predators with sledgehammers to save each other. Daughter Audrey (Maisy Stella) and son Brian (Christian Convery) complete their terrified nuclear unit, as they attempt to defend themselves against very real threats that knock, claw and roar outside their front door.
Now, Mitchell’s storyline is admittedly a pile of time-hopping, multiversal questions that the film doesn’t bother to explore. In interviews, Mitchell admits that he used to watch dinosaur movies with his father – to whom the film is dedicated – so he donned his best Amblin impersonation and made the kind of movie he would watch with pops. Family values are an important topic of conversation, with a focus on McGregor’s father doing his best, and the whole thing acts as a loose metaphor for strained but salvageable relationships. Greg’s family is trapped in Dinoland with no way to escape, paralleling Denise’s frustrations with Greg and feeling trapped by marriage – their struggles inside their barricaded hideout mimic those started at an all-smiles pre-zap summer barbecue.
It’s an admirable attempt on Mitchell’s part to turn his heartfelt songs into a thoughtful adventure thriller, but there’s a lack of follow-through. It’s as if Steven Spielberg was kidnapped twice (JJ Abrams produces via Bad Robot), while the family that flees flesh-eating predators together stays together, even if schmaltzy. But Mitchell is so preoccupied with the Platts and their mutual adoration that the fundamental details of the narrative seem forgotten. For example, why are the Platts the least conscious time travelers in history, letting gargantuan Canosaurus guys sneak up on them? Or how do temporal paradoxes work? Over and over, the eye rolling continues as logic disappears off the face of the Earth in favor of Mitchell playing with his dinosaur toys.
But you know what? Every once in a while, some “stupid fun” is enough. It is The end of Oak Street.
From the moment McGregor investigates his block, post-time jump, and frantically flees a velci-bird-o-saurus in ’80s-approved tennis shorts, The end of Oak Street is rather intense. Denise comes across a rifle; Brian puts himself in danger to save the family dog, Starbuck; Audrey finds a crush on an orphaned neighbor (Jeannette, played by Jordan Alexa Davis). Together, they encounter obstacle after obstacle as the unluckiest townspeople are separated by meat-hungry beasts in plain sight. There’s a dark brutality to the way the Platts’ community is eaten appendage by appendage that doesn’t skimp on the cruelty of savage violence. The time-capsule nature of ’80s Americana retains the woodwork, dress code, and ambiance of Pleasantville, only as a stark contrast to the vicious feeding frenzy that ensues.
However, The end of Oak Street is also surprisingly light. Hathaway and McGregor are asked to emphasize the turbulent nature of marriages on the rocks, but Mitchell counters this with downright cartoonish depictions of dinosaurs living uninterruptedly. The blank, puppy-dog stare of a mega-turtle blocking the road, head tilted as Denise considers honking, or Greg’s impromptu photoshoot that recalls a frequently repeated gag description of The young pope (if you know, you know). At times, Mitchell’s hunter-stalker film acts like an absurdist creature feature written by a teenager, taking the filmmaker back to his childhood. Only to snap back to reality with a handful of slack-jawed highlights.
You’ll either howl at these out-of-left-field moments, charmed by Mitchell’s constant desire to make us smile, or you’ll regret every break in tone, as the film slips back into stripping mode.
As for the sights and sounds, Michael Giacchino’s score dances with a pleasant sense of wonder and explodes when Rexy-sized monsters snap their jaws at unwitting snacks. The visual effects are effective, for the most part, as lush jungle settings surround Oak Street and dinosaurs run rampant, relying on digital animations that sell their avian characteristics. Perhaps a few sections are less polished than others, thinking specifically of an opening sequence similar to Dawn of the Dead (2004), except it’s dinosaurs munching on suburbanites, not zombies. Or some glimpses of Starbucks, which looks as bad as WB’s ill-fated AI commercial. But, otherwise, the mix of Smalltown, USA accents with a pre-time country blends seamlessly, common studio CG imperfections and all.
The end of Oak Street is an objectively messy movie that is, subjectively, a slice of primo entertainment that will put you off. Mitchell serves up popcorn thrills that are best left unexamined. It’s a bit of a Tropeasaurus Rex in terms of plot about why sci-fi events happen and emotional dilemmas, but then we return to the life-saving excitement of another dinosaur attack. To 100 merciful minutes, The end of Oak Street knows what it is and gets straight to the point: cinematic pleasure that makes us all feel like kids again.
Movie score: 3/5
