I totally channeled Max: I turned to my sister as we were leaving the theater after seeing Jurassic Park 3 on Saturday and said, “I hope all those kids have screaming nightmares and their parents have to stay up all friggin’ night.” What is it with people bringing children to events that are clearly inappropriate for them? Here I also refer to my long-standing rant against London mothers pushing baby strollers the size of twin beds through areas that are otherwise congested with adults (i.e. the Tate Modern). Seriously, everytime I nearly get run over by one, I turn to Snookums and snarl, “Inappropriate stroller!” That’s our code word.
Anyway, the movie wasn’t great but it didn’t suck. It really was, as Ebert pointed out, a “nice little thrill machine.” I hate-hate-hated Tea Leoni, but everybody else was okay. I really liked the pterodactyl bit. (I’m pretty sure they’re real, Max.) For some reason, the Barney the Dinosaur bit made me giggle like a freak. But maybe that had something to do with the three scoops of Phish Food I scarfed right before the show…