Steven Spielberg’s name isn’t listed in “The End of Oak Street’s” credits.
His brand, by contrast, is plastered all over the screen.
The thriller has all the earmarks of vintage Spielberg:
- The suburban backdrop
- The epic score (by Michael Giacchino)
- The adorable family dog
- Nuclear families scrambling for their lives
- And dinosaurs. Lots of dinosaurs
Writer/director David Robert Mitchell (“It Follows”) traces the Spielberg blueprint as well as anyone might. Credit producer J.J. Abrams, a Spielberg acolyte, perhaps?
The film’s Achilles’ heel? Two dumber than dumb interludes and a finale that plays like the production ran out of resources and ad libbed the waning moments.
Life is good for the Platt family, at least on paper.
The story opens during a neighborhood festival, allowing Greg and Denise (Ewan McGregor and Anne Hathaway) to let their teenagers soak up the community vibes.
The couple still finds time to fight over the state of their marriage, a strain that hasn’t escaped their kids’ attention. That tension gets shelved, at least for the moment, when strange events take over their block.
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A plant that could be many centuries old blooms in a friend’s backyard. A massive mound of dung suddenly appears in a separate neighbor’s backyard. That’s just the beginning.
Overnight, this bucolic ‘hood is flooded with foliage, fires and more dinosaurs than you could shake a stick at.
What? Why? How? Huh?
Hold on, those questions aren’t important. Survival is the name of this game.
“Oak Street” isn’t here to play nice. These dinosaurs are out for blood, and Mitchell stages the confrontations for maximum impact. If this is second-tier Spielberg, it’s a remarkable facsimile.
McGregor and Hathaway refuse to phone in their genre roles, giving heart and humor to their characters amidst the crisis. They’re in Protection Mode, willing to sacrifice anything to keep their teens safe. That feels both retro and refreshing.
The threats are literally everywhere, and the joy factor in watching the Pratts scramble for safety is off the charts.
Mostly.
The film’s serious tone could use some comic relief, but one particular sequence takes that sentiment to the extreme. Suddenly, the stakes seem darn right minuscule, a small but tragic miscue.
You’ll know the scene when you see it.
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Moments later, the danger factor hits 11. You might feel a strong case of whiplash before it’s done. Spielberg was always a master of tone, something Mitchell hasn’t quite mastered.
The science behind the Jurassic redux makes no sense, and there’s little effort to fix that problem. Instead, the storytellers shrug, as if hamstrung by the film’s economical running time.
It’s the rare case where we’re left craving more.
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Thrillers pop when we care about the people fleeing for their lives. It’s a key area where “Oak Street” outkicks the coverage. We care deeply about this family’s survival and how it might endure once the dinosaur threat subsides.
Still, adding extra characters where they don’t belong slows the film’s otherwise crackling roll. A neighborhood bully re-appears at the worst possible moment – it’s the film’s biggest unintentional laugh. And a cute neighbor girl could have added something special to the story. Instead, she’s just another person fleeing for her life.
Genre films can easily survive such quibbles, and “The End of Oak Street” is a perfect example. Is it flawed? Yup. Does it deliver near-perfect summertime thrills at its peak.
You betcha.
HiT or Miss: “The End of Oak Street” packs exhilarating thrills, endless chases and some dopey detours that still can’t spoil the good times.