2001, 1 hr 30 min., Rated PG-13 for intense sci-fi terror and violence.�Dir: Joe Johnston. Cast: Sam Neill (Dr. Alan Grant), William H. Macy (Paul Kirby), T�a Leoni (Amanda Kirby), Alessandro Nivola (Billy), Trevor Morgan (Eric Kirby), Michael Jeter (Udesky), Laura Dern (Dr. Ellie Sattler).

The third installment of the Jurassic Park amusement park ride...er, film franchise, is all style over substance, very predictable and I've seen more depth in a puddle of urine. But the dinos look cool, do plenty of chomping and it's not like I expected anything more.

If not for Sam Neill's return as Dr. Grant, though, this flick would have driven me insane. The entire plot revolves around people making really really really stupid decisions. For an hour-and-a-half I had my hand over my eyes saying in a whisper, "oh, boy," knowing what was coming next because of the inanity of the characters' actions. Imagine an island of Crocodile Hunters looking into the camera and wondering, "Hey, if I poke this T-Rex up his butt, let's see if he gets angry! Crikey, look at the size of those jaws biting me in half! What a mean bugger!"

Of course, Dr. Grant has issues of dementia all his own. Believing that Raptors are the smartest creatures ever to roam the earth who don't have a desire to see "Touched By an Angel," he constantly espouses that the dino geniuses have a language and speak to one another. He may be on to something, since I'm sure they were smarter than their namesakes in Toronto in the NBA, and undoubtedly more intelligent than Tea Leoni's character in Jurassic Park III, screaming like a banshee on an island overrun by very large, very carnivorous ancient creatures.

All this made me miss Jeff Goldblum immensely. I'm glad there was at least one reference to his "Chaos" theory, because obviously it's the only thing that could describe the script.

Seeing the marquee one would think that should bolster the dialogue (indie king William H. Macy! Tea Leoni, she's married to David Duchovny! Michael Jeter, he was great in "Evening Shade"!), but, alas, no. Apparently all these credible stars needed to be cool for their kids, yet decided to take a dip in the hot tub as the writers furiously composed the most compelling script since "Baby Blues." No, wait, even Steve wouldn't claim this one. He's got more substance in the Notebook than any scene on this ride. Somehow I blame Mailbox for hoarding the Oscar-winning script never received by the stars. What's that, Blue? You're showing the sign for how crummy the actual script is? Oh, I don't think we should show that to the kids, Blue.

Wait! I'm ripping into the film as though it was intellectual, aren't I? Blimey, I'm not even reading my own review.

Okay, so don't think when you see Jurassic Park 3. Don't use that mushy set of nerve nodules one bit. That's right. Don't allow one single synapse to fire during the two hours in the theater. See it merely for chomping and roaring, in a primitive "gee wasn't it cool to see that guy ingested by a spinosaurus" kind of way. Heh heh, that's cool.

The verdict:

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