Saw the new Jurassic World Rebirth posters? Of course you have. They're everywhere—burning up Twitter feeds, worming through forums, printed so large outside multiplexes you could measure their teeth. Scarlett Johansson—Zora Bennett in this new monster parade—stands in the mud, jaw clenched, eyes wild, as something big and very much not a regular T. rex lunges behind her.
It's ridiculous. It's gorgeous. It's… basically why movies exist.
And it's not just Johansson. Jonathan Bailey and Mahershala Ali, all decked out in scientifically improbable expedition gear, flank her in the next shots. The posters hum with the energy of old Spielberg, but there's a tired, bruised grit here—these people know they're doomed. No pep talks. Just running.
July 2, 2025. Burn that date into your brain like an amber mosquito—because Universal Pictures and Gareth Edwards want you to believe there are still new tricks left in this fossil-rich universe. (Cinematic déjà vu aside, it's a real date. Summer blockbuster cannon—don't forget it.)
Why do we keep coming back for dino chaos?
Maybe we're gluttons for punishment. Or maybe it's the David Koepp script—yes, that David Koepp, back in the lab nearly three decades after writing the original park blueprints. Based on Michael Crichton's DNA, with all the messy questions of science, greed, and extinction running under the surface. I love it. I hate it. I can't look away.
The official synopsis teases a desperate extraction team on an island that, honestly, should've been napalmed after the first movie. The “worst of the worst” left behind at some forgotten research facility. Johansson, Bailey, and Ali—playing Zora Bennett, Dr. Henry Loomis, and Duncan Kincaid—aren't there to sightsee. They're racing against extinction, both their own and—hell, maybe the planet's.
Saw some chatter—Fangoria, Hollywood Reporter, who knows—that the visual effects team ran out of rubber blood and had to switch to digital. Take that with a salt lick. But the trailers and now these posters? They drip with peril. You smell the metal and mud in every frame.
Posters as prophecy… or just great marketing?
Look, I've followed this franchise since I was a kid. The original made me believe in magic (and, okay, gave me a recurring fear of kitchen counters after midnight). But somewhere along the line—post-Jurassic Park III, maybe—I started rolling my eyes. Sequels. Spin-offs. Dinos with laser pointers. Has the magic worn off?
These new posters say no. Or at least, not for Johansson, staring down a beast as if she's the last hope of a cynical age. Is it the beginning of a redemption arc for a franchise that's seen as many resurrections as its creatures? Or just the same old spectacle, monster guts and all?
I don't know. Maybe I don't care. I'll still be there July 2.
