To accommodate everybody’s infinitesimal attention span, T-Rex gobbles up a bloke at the very beginning of the movie, before we’ve even broken the choc-coating on our ice cream or been introduced to the central characters. A franchise’s production line rarely produces anything as good as the original that spawned it. Jurassic World (2015), which also starred the terminally bland Chris Platt, made a pretty decent comeback for the ailing Jurassic series, but none of them has got to within a bull’s roar of matching the wonder and awe and excitement of Steven Spielberg’s 1993 original. In JA Bayona’s turn to squeeze more bucks out of dinosaurs, an unflappable hero and a pretty girl in a sweaty T-shirt, too many of the 128 minutes fall into glazed-eyes territory. The ancient species on Isla Nublar (Cloudy Island in Spanish), site of the failed theme park from the previous flick, are threatened by volcanic eruptions. Former employees of the park, Owen and Claire (Pratt, Bryce Dallas Howard), aim to save them – Owen is especially keen to be reunited with Blue, his ‘pet’ velociraptor. The bad guy is Eli Mills (Rafe Spall), whose plan is to sell them, including the genetically engineered Indoraptor, to the highest bidders (among whom an unshaved Russian is the Brute). There are a number of provocative questions raised about where DNA research is taking us all – a mutant human is revealed near the end – and there is a genuinely heartbreaking shot of a brontosaurus left to its fiery fate. But most telling is the bookended commentary of the scientist Dr Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum – the only survivor from 1993), lamenting the self-destructive nature of homo sapiens. The manic final act, set at night in a gothic mansion with heavy rain falling, is too much like Snakes on a Plane to be taken seriously and, of course, the conclusion primes those punters not dinosaured-out with potential for yet another instalment. Did King Kong and Godzilla ever think it would come to this?