The End of Oak Street Is a Nasty, Effective Exercise in Dino Terror

There's something primordially satisfying about watching a big-screen dinosaur get the what-for from the business end of a just-loaded shotgun. The recent run of Jurassic Park movies sometimes seems to have lost this primal pleasure, replacing it with ho-hum computer-generated spectacle and cheap nostalgic callbacks to the franchise's better days. They've forgotten that the franchise was founded on a combination of awe and white-knuckle terror—the raw and relatable fear of a giant, toothy monster that stalks the earth with a sort of evolutionary arrogance that comes from a couple million years atop the food chain. Newsflash: Humans rule the planet now. It's fun to watch these ancient planetary powerhouses get taken down a peg. Sic semper Tyrannosaurus. The End of Oak Street remembers what