The End of Oak Street is a sci-fi, interdimensional opus, written and directed by Robert Taylor (It Follows) Mitchell and coproduced by J.J. Abrams. Its premise is reminiscent of John "Bud" Cardos' The Day Time Ended, Dan Trachtenberg's 10 Cloverfield Lane and NBC's Land of the Lost. It also references such Rod Serling, Twilight Zone fables as "The Odyssey of Flight 33" (which in turn inspired Stephen King's The Langoliers) and (if only due to its suburban peril) "The Monsters are Due on Maple Street." (I suppose Oak Street also harbors a brush of Earl Hamner's TZ offering, "A Stopover in a Quiet Town," in that it deals with displacement, capped by a colossal reveal.)
In Oak Street's specific case, a 1982, Spielberg-ian neighborhood is transported (via explosions of bright light) into prehistoric times to face dinosaurs, many of which are feathered. (Heck, why not? I should think we all know by now that such colossal beasts evolved into birds.)
Focus falls on one family, the Platts, who consist of Anne Hathaway's Denise and Ewan McGregor's Greg and their children, Maisy Stella's Audrey and Christian Convery's Brian, in addition to their unruly dog, Starbuck. After the dimensional transition, the members are understandably on edge, but the parents do a decent job keeping their s*** together (despite a layering of wishy-washy, marital strife), thwarting and/or evading danger whenever and wherever they can, while still driving the tale's high-stakes, survivalist tension.
Beyond how the dimensional rift occurred (with all the expected, wormhole theorizing attached), Oak Street isn't all that complicated, leaning on characterization to buffer it. That one cares about the family (and doesn't wish any member devoured) is a testament to its writing and performances.
Michael Giacchino again supplies an effective score, in this case invoking John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith for its pivotal moments, and Michael Gioulakis' photography is nice and clear (with plenty of daylight scenes), going against the murky grain that mucks up too many modern, dinosaur adventures, whether big-budget or bargain-basement. And as far as the dinosaurs go, Industrial Light & Magic once more knocks it out of the park to deliver a magnificent and memorable, Jurassic-minded menagerie.
I liked this one quite a bit and will probably like it even more when I revisit it. Its humans-vs-behemoths construction is comparable to the way good ol' giant-monster movies were once made: staged not for some sanctimonious message, but rather for the simple, exploitive thrill of it.🦖
