(Snark along with me here
)
We begin our film with an animated logo. It’s actually pretty good—the animation’s a bit outdated, but it’s smooth and clean. It reminds me of an 80s cartoon logo. Let’s see, what does it say— Phoenix. Oh, boy. Ooooooh, boy. Phoenix Games, creators of some of the worst games to ever hit consol. It’s a very apropos name—like Dingo Pictures, everything they touch turns to ash. This does not body well.
Next is a cloying animated intro for “The Code Monkeys,” who (my limited research informs me) apparently generally make okay games. However, in aligning themselves with Phoenix, they have put an everlasting stain on their record. I would approach their products with trepidation.
The cover art/movie title card is very reminiscent of its “source” material. A Littlefoot-esque brontosaurus stares at us, smiling; he’s carrying a smaller version of him on his back. Below him, partially covered by copyright notices (snerk), a triceratops gapes upward—its expression is a bit like a LO Lcat, but more stoned-looking. As the dinos grin at us, in the background, a volcano explodes.
A volcano is exploding… and they’re staring at us, smiling.
Riiiiiight.
Detail-Hogging Cover/Title Card over, we start the film.
We are immediately assaulted with this weird 80s synth trance music. It sounds like the kind of thing you’d find at the start of an instructional video, the type they’d play at school when your teacher needed a break. And it never ends—it just keeps looping.
The first thing we see are some unimpressive establishing shots of dinosaurs walking in front of a mountain/volcano, while a flock of (birds? pterosaurs?) flies overhead. Go, my winged friends! Flee this movie while you still can!
Right away I see a few flaws: Firstly, the longneck dinosaurs are about half as tall as the mountain they’re walking past. I know they were big, but they weren’t that big. You could argue that the dinos are closer, so they look bigger, but really, it looks exactly like what it is: Some cheaply animated dinosaurs placed above a background that is much too small for them.
Secondly, there are eight dinosaurs walking. I say eight, but really it’s more like four: The animators have simply Xeroxed each dinosaur and given it a carbon copy. They look the same, move the same, and move at the same time. It is so cheap, it makes me cringe. Like in the story of Noah, the animators have given us two of each animal; unlike with Noah, it doesn’t look like a flood will wash away this horror anytime soon. But maybe if I hold out, this world will end in fire and lava, like the cover suggests.
The background image itself is… not terrible. It’s not done in Magic Markers or crayon and or ballpoint pen— it looks like some effort went into making the B Gs, and the end result is alright. The thing is, if this scene is to be believed, the dinosaur a freaking HUGE. Like, mountain-huge. I’m no paleintologist, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t.
The 80s music continues to drone. Our next shot is a midshot of the walking Xerox dinosaurs. The brontosaurs look rather odd. They’re gray and surprisingly well-drawn, if a bit plain. It doesn’t match with Dingo’s art style, such as it is.
Our next shot is of a weird flying bat/bird thing. It’s flapping its wings in the most awkward way, and it descents from the sky, coming closer. Its mouth is open the entire time, and it’s looking down—is it going to catch some prey? Is this Dingo’s rip-off of “The Rite of Spring?”
I guess not. Next shot, a group of quadruped dinosaurs stare at a white egg. To the left, just barely peeking through from off-screen, there’s a stoned-looking gray dinosaur. A dully content-looking green dinosaur lies in a prone position, while a weird-looking blue one with Big Ol' Eyebrows stands over it. Both look like brontosaurs, but with shorter necks—design-wise, they’re a bit like Littlefoot (although their faces are nothing alike). The blue dino seems to have a—but no, I must be imagining things.
Next to the green and blue dinos is a—what the hell is that. It looks like a – a… you know, I have no idea. It’s indescribable. What the hell is that?
It kinda looks like pork dumpling with rabbit ears, or a white hog— but instead of a snout, it has a spike. A spike for a nose. Its whole back is covered in spikes, and the rear end of it seems to be hovering a few inches above the ground. That is seriously the most messed-up looking dinosaur I have ever seen.
More walking, generic-looking longnecks. Jeez, don’t we have enough shots of animals walking yet? And will you shut off the synth music already?!
New shot, and a brown brontosaur arrives, coming from the opposite direction. He’s got a row of spikes down his back, and his body is all distorted, and he has these huge goofy feet. He is much goofier-looking than the gray ones.
You know what? I think I’ve solved it. I bet the animators found the gray longnecks in a book of dinosaurs and just traced them. That’s why they look generic but well-drawn. This goofy brown thing is their failed attempt at copying it. That is definitely what happened.
The bird-thing is now perched on a branch. He looks like a mix between a giant, oddly-coloured, off-model Petrie from The Land Before Time, and a hideous duck whose parents practiced beak-binding—his beak looks blobby and deformed. “They keep coming! It’s enough already,” he says.
“RUBBISH!” growls the blue dino.
I feel a bit sick in my stomach. It’s only the second line, and we already have our first rubbish of the movie. It can only go downhill from here.
“RUBBISH! Just the opposite. Everyone should comehere.” Blue dino has this gruff, “I drink cigarettes and nails” voice. He stands with his four legs splayed, like he’s about to do squat-thrusts or something. And he seems to have a… snout. Or is it…? No, it can’t be a nose, none of the other dinosaurs have them, and even Dingo Pictures must know dinosaurs don’t have noses. It’s just a weird snout, like that spike monster has.
While Bluey speaks, we cut to another shot of a dinosaur walking; this one looks like a green seahorse. And it… hops. It hops very unconvincingly.
What are all these dinosaurs walking toward, anyway? I thought this was a Land Before Time rip-off— is this one of those “all the animals of the kingdom gather to celebrate the birth of the main character” scenes, like at the start of Bambi and The Lion King?
Bluey growls, “They should ALL seeour child be born after all it’s our FIRST one.”
It is. Oh, jeez. So it’s not just ripping-off one good movie—it’s ripping-off several. Oh, Dingo, what new lows you hit!
“What?! It’s nothing that unusual,” says giant Petrie. I don’t know what kind of accent he’s going for, but it’s annoying as all hell. Also, his beak moves weirdly when he talks. It… flaps. Beaks are supposed to be hard, like bones. Even in cartoons, they maintain some stiffness. They don't... wiggle. Beaks don’t flap, and yet here one is—flapping away! Flapping out of synch with the dialogue, no less.
We’re not even a minute in, people.
Bluey growls; his head kind of jitters, so either they’re trying to show that he’s shaking with anger, or the cell moved when they filmed this part. I know how I’m betting!
Annoying giant Petrie says, “Oh excuse me of course it’s something special, after all it’s the first egg Budentino(? I have no clue)’s EVER laaaaiiiid. The rest were all brought in by the stork, heh-heh-heh that’s what you think.” Oh wow. That’s some classic bad dialogue, right there. The “lips,” for lack of a better word, don’t match up to the dialogue, the dialogue makes no sense, and at one point, they cut to a close-up of Petrie laughing but he doesn’t laugh. He just keeps talking.
And what the hell does that speech even mean? I think he’s trying to tease the father, but there is nothing in his voice to suggest that. What is the point of giant off-model Petrie? Someone tell me, so my head stops throbbing.
“Quiet!” says the green dino, who must be the mother. We get a close-up on her: She has odd content look on her face. And she doesn’t have a nose—good, I was clearly just imagining things. Noses on dinosaurs! What a concept!
She continues, “I think something moved inside the egg.” How, exactly, does one see something moving inside an egg?
“Now, no it’s too early it’ll take LONGer,” says Petrie. He’s now suddenly off the branch and on the ground, staring at the egg. Also staring at the egg is that horrible spike-nosed thing—it has a very worried look on its face, like it knows it’s in a horrible movie and can’t escape.
Petrie takes a deep breath, as we get another shot of those gray clipart dinosaurs walking. “Oooooooh gooooodness here come even MORE. What should I offer them to eat? Must a birth always entail so much WORK! Oh, gosh!” Aaaaand for no reason at all he’s suddenly flying. We’ll, he’s flapping his wings and the background it moving down—we’re supposed to assume he’s flying.
OHHOLYSHIT! Oh, okay, forget the spike-nosed thing, NOW we’ve hit the worst-looking dinosaur of the movie. It’s this red… thing. It stands upright and has these long claws/fingernails (Freddy Krueger would be jealous!). It’s got no visible snout or nostrils; instead, it has what looks like a… fin coming down between its eyes. And its eyes— oh, its eyes. It has eyes like a Harlequin baby. It looks like there’s some sort of crusty film over them. That is one sinfully ugly dinosaur.
“A beautiful agg,” says the red monster. Apparently, because it has no nostrils, it talks likes its nose is plugged. “That’ll be a beautiful dee-no!” What’s a dee-no? Surely they don’t mean “dino.”
“I polish it every day, I hear that it’s good for the baby inside,” says the Greenie the mother.
There are some wonky proportions going on in this movie. Another dinosaur in the scene with her is about half her size. I know dinosaurs were all sorts of sizes, but sheesh. Not like this. Also, the egg is also HUGE. It’ like the size of her head.
“Rubbish!” says the goofy-looking brown brontosaur. “Modern nonsense you just have to leave it in the sun, that’s enough!” Their sorry attempt at making a joke is so unfunny, you can barely detect there was supposed to be a joke. (They’re trying to liken dinosaur pregnancy to human pregnancy. Uuuuuugh.) And with that humourless speech done, we have the second “rubbish” of the movie. Two “rubbishes” in one scene? This is looking bad.
Not!Petrie says something unimportant as he returns from his flight. He is carrying branches in his wing while he is flying.
He is carrying branches in one wing, while flying.
Carrying branches in one wing. While flying.
… Pass.
For no reason, we cut to the little green hopping dinosaur, who is laughing, also for no reason. Not!Petrie lands, laying the branches on some cliff or something. Finally, the weird 80s synth music stops. Finally.
“Aand now itsabout time,” not!Petrie slurs. Wow, can he read my mind? Oh, no, he’s talking about the egg baby.
“Oh is he coming too late?” asks the mother. There is no real emotion in her voice—it’s the one you hear from someone commenting on the local sports team, when they don’t follow sports. That is not the sound I’d expect out of a concerned new mother. Also, what is this BS about an egg being “late”? Why weren’t you concerned about it fifteen second ago, when you were whining about all the dinosaurs showing up?
I’m confused about not!Petrie. What is he—a caterer? A friend? A midwife? The Triassic’s most annoying court jester? What is the point of him being here? Everyone seems to defer to him, but I can’t understand what he’s doing here. It’s… pointless. His entire existence is pointless. I can’t figure it out.
Next shot, and suddenly Petrie is next to the egg again (the spike-nosed monster is there, too), holding a hammer. A fucking hammer.
Ohhhhh, now I get it! He’s the local baby-murderer! Go on, Petrie, murder the eggbaby and get this movie over with faster!
So anyway, Petrie has a hammer (anachronism FTW!) dangling over the egg, and after the mother asks if the baby’s late, Petrie says, “Weeellll it’s a little overdue, but no problem, I caaaaan help it along.” Then he starts wiggle the hammer over the egg, and someone cries “nnooooOOOOOoooo!”
Then about half a second later, the spike-nosed monster’s face goes all :O
BWAHAHAHAHA! Okay, that is funny. For all the wrong reasons, that is totally hilarious. Spike-monster suffers from Dingo Pictures’ “two frame animation,” so it literally goes from “eternal dull worry” to “ZOMG!” in no time. Spikey also isn’t looking at Petrie and the hammer—he’s looking behind them, like there’s something scary in the background (maybe it’s a meteor, to finally end this mess). And, of course, the time delay between the shout and the face change— that’s so funny it almost seems intentional.
The cry alerts Bluey, who growls, “Are you crazy, Cree! You could hit his head.”
Not!Petri (heretofore Cree) replies, “Ooooh a little smack in the back of the head never hurt anyone.” Indeed—a smack to the back of my head would probably erase this from my memory. Quick, someone fetch me a hammer! Not an MC Hammer, a real hammer!
HOL SHIT oh it’s that red monster again. He says, deeply and nasally, “It’s hatching, looook!” Oh, finally, this pointlessly drawn out scene can finally end.
And cue the “happy” music. Ugh, the “happy” music. It’s this sort of oompa music that plays anytime people explore in Dingo Pictures movies. This is my least favourite snippet in their music “library,” but we’d better get used to it—we’ll be hearing it a lot. A lot a lot.
Cut to the egg “hatching.” When you or I think of hatching, we think of a little creature pushing its way out of a shell in bits and pieces. When Dingo Pictures thinks of hatching, it thinks “egg gets a zig-zig through it, we play a soundclip of cloth tearing, and the egg falls apart right down the middle.” So that is what happens. That is the hatching scene. There is no drama, no tension, no suspense, no wonder—the shell just falls open and there’s a bright green lizard sitting there, with huge eyes and a red nose.
A… a red nose. It has a nose.
I… it… the dinosaur has a nose. I wasn’t seeing things. It wasn’t a delusion. They’re drawing dinosaurs with noses. The newborn has a round red button nose, like fucking Rudolph the Reindeer. It has a nose.
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
Oh why bother. So the little green rat monster with a red nose blinks its huge black eyes for a while, as everyone shouts in approval. Hey, Dingo, did you finally figure out how to do walla?
Cut to the mother, who looks the same as always—weirdly happy. Then cut to the father, who’s as angry as ever. “A boy!” he growls, astonished. He’s always growling— he should get some cough drops. “Look here everyone it’s a BOY anda REALLY BIG ONE!” No, that’s just the umbilical cord, it's a girl.
Rudolph the green rat immediately starts walking. There is no awkwardness as he learns to use his feet—he just up and starts walking.
On two legs. Did I mention his parents are quadrupeds? And he is walking on two legs. Red nose… two legs… aaayyyyyyyy…
More walking, amazingly, not in profile! Dingo must be learning. But why do they have so much walking? Cree comments, “It’s always beautiful. Another little deeee-no.” Cut to a gray clipart brontosaurus.
Okay, are we seriously going to cut to pointless animals in a movie about animals? Is that what we’re going to do, Dingo? Fine. Officially, whenever I see a cut to an animal that is there for no reason, that adds nothing to the story, I am going to shout “PASS”— for Pointless Animal Shots. That way we can tally it up at the end of the series, along with the official “rubbish” count.
So that’s one PASS. The laughing green seahorse is two. I won’t count the walking scenes, but those are very pointless. So, two so far. Great. Back to the movie. Jeez. It is so easy to get distracted—this thing is so bad, you just want to look anywhere else.
Anyway, Cree continues with his spiel: “Always beautiful, another deeee-no, but when I think about the way they are when they grow up—- NNOOOOOOOOO, nooo, I don’t dare think about that, no noooo.” He’s looking worriedly up at the sky again, and sounds like he’s really in pain when he says “no”—why? Is he sad about the deeee-nos growing up, or sad about what they grow up into? You are not telling me anything, movie! Start making sense! START!
Green rat walks over to the spike-nosed monster. His eyes are level with the spike-noses’s spiked-nose, and for a brief, happy moment I thought he was going to poke his eye out. Alas, it is not to be. I never get what I want.
“No no no little one come to me I’m your mama,” says Greeney, her face still frozen in weird eternal contentedness. Apparently, the green rat is following Cree around. Oh boy, I bet he thinks it’s his mommy! Yuk yuk! I would I say, “I could have written the script,” but my script would have been better than this.
“Look better do as she says she’s bigger than I am and if she gets mad oh dear oh dearie me!” says Cree, breathlessly. Oh, good, because I was afraid the acting had improved slightly.
For some reason, the creepy red Harlequin-baby dinosaur is now brown. It and a goofy-looking dinosaur laugh at Cree’s antics. Who among us doesn’t?
One of the dinos asks if it has a name yet. Um, he JUST FUCKING HATCHED. You watched him hatch! He hasn’t been named yet, he’s like five seconds old! Stupid dinosaurs.
Amazingly, the mother replies, “Yes, if he was a girl (pregnant pause) I would have named her Tia.” “But,” growls the father, who needs an otolaryngologist, “seeingas he’s a boy his name is Tio.” Real inventive there, guys.
“Oh YEEEEEAAAH,” says Cree, “there are nicer names but he’ll be able to live with it.” What the hell, Cree? Who insults a baby at its birth/christening? I don’t care if you are the only jester/midwife/caterer/baby murderer in the area, you are such a douchebag. Why doesn’t the blue one just eat you? It might help his throat.
“Aaaanyway,” continues Cree, “why did I gather all this food?” It sounds like he’s seriously asking the question—it’s not rhetorical, he is actually wondering why he got all the food together. He must have early-onset weird-parrot-dinosaur Alzheimer’s. Also, by “food,” I think he means the two branches he flew in with earlier. Because that’ll totally feed the dozen or so enormous animals at the party.
“Eeeehhhh,” says Cree, doing his best Fonzi impression, “let’s feast and celebrate! Come on, party time, yeah, party time.” I have never heard anyone say “party time” with less enthusiasm. Back to that first shot of eight dinosaurs walking and a flock of somethings flying, and fade out. Scene one out of the way. Finally. This is going to be painful. We aren’t even five minutes in yet, and I already hate this movie again. It has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. It’s just bad. Just so, so, so bad. But it gets worse. I know it gets worse— I remember. How much worse, you ask? Well, watch on, my friends. Watch on.
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