The End of Oak Street lives and dies by the fact that it will never be Jurassic Park, and writer/director David Robert Mitchell knows this fact well. Instead, he takes us on a journey like author/illustrator Chris Van Allsburg asks us to take with each picture in his book The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, presenting us with a wild premise and allowing our own minds to run wild with it. The premise: What if your neighborhood—and you along with it—was suddenly transported back to the Mesozoic era, complete with dinosaurs on the hunt? I can almost imagine Mitchell sitting down with a black-and-white sketch of a family staring agog at some prehistoric creature silhouetted against their curtained living room window, considering it carefully, then turning to his computer and fleshing his story out from there.
And what a neat story he’s got to tell us about a suburban family in 1982. Mitchell quickly establishes the kind of people we’re going to be following for the next 99 minutes, and it’s not all strawberries and cream for the Platt family. Denise (Anne Hathaway) is a stay-at-home mom with aspirations of being a published author but is stuck being the person keeping her family on track. Greg (Ewan McGregor) has a secret he’s been keeping from her, which also requires him to do “deliveries” that take him away at odd hours. Their daughter, Audrey (Maisy Stella), seems just a little off from the rest of the kids her age, notably disappointed in her school friend’s decision to get back with her boyfriend. And son Brian (Christian Convery) is the biggest diversion from the usual script, as he’s revealed to have broken a younger boy’s arm by throwing a stick into his bicycle spokes.
Mitchell’s characters are full of surprises, especially Brian. Usually, with teenagers in films like this, our lot is cast with the underdogs who get bullied. While Brian is set up as a fairly normal kid and his peer group gets chased by some older boys, there’s some verve behind it, especially after hearing him talk about what he’s done and the trouble that he expects—either from his mother or his victim’s angry older brother—as a result. He’s the biggest example Mitchell gives us as a hint that this movie will require more from us, defying our preconceived notions of ’80s suburban movie families and asking us to expect the unexpected.
The same goes for Greg, whose nervous energy speaks of his need to hide things from his family—a hasty nip of alcohol, departing early from the annual block party, the harried “We’ll talk about this later” he gives to Denise at a looming discussion of their marital strife. He’s not set up as the hearty, supportive, and with-it ’80s dad we’re used to seeing; there’s a different sensibility that Mitchell gives him as both writer and director, and we’re not exactly sure how to take him. The most reliable character we’ve got in the room is Denise, and even she’s descending quickly to the end of her rope with Greg and Brian, both of whom seem to be pushing her buttons with their behavior—Greg with his detachment, Brian with his “Well, Dad said I could” reasoning for letting his dog Starbuck go where he’s not supposed to, especially in their neighbor Mel’s (P. J. Byrne) yard.
But weird lights start flashing at night, extinct plants start growing a few houses away, and Mel accuses the Platt kids of leaving what Dr. Ian Malcolm would’ve called a “big pile of shit” in his backyard as a prank. Mel already doesn’t like Starbuck and is generally annoyed at the Platts, so it’s no surprise that he thinks they’re responsible for this very non-human, impossible dung pile on his back lawn. Of all the characters in this movie, Mel’s the most predictable and typical, so when we see him after the event that transports their neighborhood millions of years into the past, we know exactly what’s going to happen to him.
Even so, Mitchell still finds ways to shock; everyone and everything is fair game once the geography outside their neighborhood changes, and Michael Gioulakis’ pitch-perfect lensing makes sure we have a healthy appreciation for the stakes the Platt family is facing. Although The End of Oak Street is the epitome of a bottle episode, Gioulakis has a way of making even a walk between houses look epic and adventuresome. The majority of the time is spent establishing spatial relations between the family and those between the family and the creatures running around outside, and Gioulakis’ frames make sure we understand exactly where the Platts and we are. We don’t get a lot of bird’s-eye views that help explain their situation, but we’re given enough to know that everyone in the neighborhood will be dead in a matter of days, if not hours.
Not extending our views past the hedgerows and houses too often is a clever way of grounding us in the now, but it also makes the movie feel a little small. It’s both a positive and a negative, as it keeps us tight with the Platt family’s survival and familiarizes us with the terrain during every side quest outside their house, but it doesn’t really give us a larger-than-life feeling of being truly engulfed by this sudden displacement. We see and know just enough to keep the story going—after all, there are dinosaurs and all manner of other creatures (sorry about the big snake, Jenn) running around and obeying the law of the jungle, which makes the humans look like nummy treats—and Mitchell is content to let the humanity of the story control this movie without having to shout “HEY! LOOK HOW AWESOME THIS CGI IS!” Further enveloping us in the film is Paula Fairfield’s brilliant sound design, which practically sings with the music of the jungle from every theater speaker and gooses us often with the noises of approaching doom.
The End of Oak Street nails its period look and characterizations, maintaining direct contact with its inhabitants throughout. We only see what the family sees, which makes the film scarier and more tactile. There isn’t what Colt Seavers would’ve called “the Hall H Shot” in The Fall Guy, but there doesn’t need to be; running alongside the Platts drives the energy levels well past expectations and turns the safe haven of their neighborhood into a deadly game of hide-and-seek. We’re coming to the end of the summer popcorn season, and David Robert Mitchell has turned in a last-minute chair-jumper for us to enjoy. It’s exemplary because it doesn’t just go the easy route; I love that we’re given more to consider than people merely being chased by monsters. Mitchell makes the Platts a little more complicated than your usual adventure movie family, and it adds a thick layer of tension (and, let’s face it, love) to an already outsized circumstance. He doesn’t explain the hows and whys of this strange occurrence; it just is, and his adherence to simply letting a story be what it is—similar to his horror classic It Follows—allows us more opportunities to engage with the film, turning The End of Oak Street into a seriously thrilling experience.
