Steven Spielberg

By Charles Taylor

Jun 28, 1997 | "the Lost World" is for everyone who's been longing for the return of movies in which somebody says, "We're not alone on this island." A picture that allows the audience to anticipate and relish every hoary clichi can make for a good time if it mocks itself, if the director is willing to say, "I know this is ridiculous hokum, but let's just have fun with it." It's tempting to think that's what Steven Spielberg is doing in the opening scenes of his sequel to "Jurassic Park," the highest-grossing movie of all time. Responding to his expedition colleagues, who are oohing and aahing over their first glimpse of genetically engineered dinosaurs, Jeff Goldblum (returning as Dr. Ian Malcolm) cautions, "Sure, it begins with 'ooh' and 'aah,' but it turns into running and screaming." That's a good line (one of the few in David Koepp's adaptation of Michael Crichton's novel), and Goldblum delivers it with the air of cynical self-parody -- wide-eyed and laid back at the same time -- that made him the best thing in "Jurassic Park."

But Spielberg isn't trying to be funny here. "The Lost World" is grindingly serious about wanting to out-whammy "Jurassic Park," itself a piece of clunky, undistinguished "event" moviemaking. And in Hollywood blockbuster terms, topping yourself means making a picture that's bigger, louder (the couple next to me talked through the whole movie and didn't keep me from hearing a word) and, in this case, nastier. If movies like "Hook" or "Always" made it seem as if Steven Spielberg were wasting his talent, "The Lost World" is the first time he's flat-out betrayed it.

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