Most dinosaur movies of the modern day are compared to the Jurassic Park films as if the franchise has a monopoly over these prehistoric animals. The End of Oak Street is a breath of fresh air in this market, a fun yet terrifying film with enough degrees of separation from Spielberg’s classic that thrives on its own. Rather than making the dinosaurs the sole focus, the film grounds its absurd premise in the breakdown of an ordinary family. The Platt family of the lively and saturated Oak Street live a normal suburban life with normal suburban problems; Denise (Anne Hathaway) and Greg’s (Ewan McGregor) marriage is on the rocks, and their kids know it, too. However, these issues soon seem inconsequential as an unknown cosmic event tears Oak Street from 1980s suburbia and into the prehistoric age of dinosaurs. The family must grapple with their personal and familial dramas whilst also running for their lives.

The film’s absurd premise allows it to seamlessly blend comedy with terror. The film confronts this notion when, amidst the horrors they have endured, Greg and Denise stop to take a photo with two dinosaurs having sex. I feel like this moment perfectly encapsulates the film’s concept: not necessarily a dinosaur movie, but a narrative about a tumultuous family against the backdrop of a prehistoric age.

The ridiculous science-fiction narrative is embraced by the cast, who deliver compellingly emotional performances. The tension between Greg and Denise is palpable due to its subtlety; resentment built on lack of communication feels a lot more real than continuous explosive fights. Their blowout argument stemming from Denise’s novel was a masterclass in the consequences of bottled-up emotions. This rang true for the family dynamic as well—each character had a distinct personality and individual relationships with one another. The relationship arc of siblings Audrey (Maisy Stella) and Brian (Christian Convery) was especially touching as they transitioned from bickering siblings to each other’s protectors.

The less we see of the dinosaurs, the more frightened we are. And that is not to say that the dinosaurs themselves aren’t terrifying—in fact, every time the feathered beasts were on screen, the audience was hooked. But this film really toyed with our fear of the unknown; the mere glimpses at the creatures’ extremities and the images of the brutality they left in their wake left the mind to conjure the horrors on its own. For the majority of the film, every attack via dinosaur had a twinge of humour to it, whether from dramatic irony or just plain irony. The prime example of this is when, after having shot the dinosaur in the leg, Greg’s leg is subsequently bitten off by said dinosaur in a tit-for-tat situation. However, the cinema’s laughter silenced as the conflict gorily developed. Whilst the remainder of the film retained its comedic value, this scene shifted the film’s nature to a much darker place after showing the family the immediate consequences. By allowing the audience to laugh at the dinosaurs before being confronted with their brutality, the film makes this transition into horror all the more effective.

At times the movement of the dinosaurs did feel a little rigid, as though they were following straight paths, a detail so noticeable that it did at times take me out of the film. This is one of the few moments where the film's illusion falters. However, these small moments are surrounded by a film that consistently chooses atmosphere and character over spectacle, allowing it to carve out its own identity in what’s otherwise a largely derivative post-Jurassic Park dinosaur-film landscape.