The End of Oak Street (2026)

The End of Oak Street is a science-fiction survival film set in the mythical times of the 1980s, starring Anne Hathaway, Ewan McGregor and a bunch of dinosaurs.

This was a weird choice of film for me to see, but it’s summer and my usual pretentions are not as well-served over a season of blockbusters and children’s animations. The End of Oak Street is a dinosaur movie, and I don’t usually do real monsters. As for my 1940s imaginary screenwriter, this was outside of her comfort zone too. She was actively tutting at the choice, worried she was going to see plastic models and shaky animation.

The End of Oak Street appears to be aimed at the older family market, parents with young teenagers, an entry into the scarier spectrum of movies. I don’t know how well it is doing more generally in terms of box office, but at my local arthouse cinema the few people who had booked it were moved from the bigger showroom to one of the smaller screens. So, that at least felt familiar – 7 or 8  people in a smaller screen, sitting in singles and far apart. Serious movie goers who weren’t going to talk through the credits.

So, here are my thoughts.

1.      The movie opens with a suburban scene, a local street party, probably organised by the Moms, while the Dads cook meat on outside grills. There are games. There is a hierarchy of children categorised into nerds and jocks. Childhood on film is often an exercise in nostalgia, even when claiming to be contemporary. However, for The End of Oak Street this is a choice, a deliberate evocation of a past era of film – a 1980s pastiche of easy-flowing suburbs, with joint activities. It wears its influences on its sleeve, with tropes borrowed from ET, The Goonies and Stand by Me (another deliberately nostalgic take on childhood). There is the classic shot of boys on bikes driving around the estate, caught by camera as they reach the top of the hill. (In case you were wondering, yes, one of the troupe is on the heavy side). There are rival gangs, and a new pretty girl to fawn over. It is safe and coy with just a hint of parental discontent. Divorce in this context feels like tragedy, because parenthood is also tinged with the same nostalgia – clear gendered roles along the lines of breadwinner and housekeeper – even though I have known few families who could maintain that simple split, including my own.

2.      The film is certified as a 12A – no children under 12, those over 12 should be accompanied by an adult. I would not have wanted to see it at 12. I cried at ET. This film would’ve just plain old scared me. Maybe that says more about me than the film.

3.      What scared me? I found that the threat, the hint of monsters held more menace than the actual dinosaurs. The disappearing tail, the strange noises, the vibrations of giant footsteps, the neighbours’ screams. Seeing the monsters rendered them less real. The effects were fine, but they were effects. Obviously better than any effects my 1940s screenwriter would’ve seen in One Million BC (1940), but the film still carried a sense that actors were not fleeing genuine dinosaurs. Or maybe that is one of the ways that I protected myself from fear? Because I often use this technique when watching a film that I find too close to the knuckle, too violent, I remind myself that it is a film. That there are a bunch of people standing around making this look real, but it isn’t.

4.      But even when I do that clever grownup thing of saying it’s just a bunch of silly special effects, I still found my body panicked, tense and flinching when a dinosaur grabbed hold of Ewan McGregor.

5.      Oh, oh, here comes the science. Usually, the science part of a film that involves time-loops, wormholes and/or black holes is explained to us by an unusually good-looking academic inexplicably in a white coat. In this film the science was delivered by a 17 year old girl, obsessed with Carl Sagan and Space Travel, and therefore can’t get a boyfriend (but does that really matter, a few sapphic hints were dropped). My own view on this is that the movie would have been more compelling without an attempt to rationalise why the weird was happening. The science is never convincing, so just leave it out. Let’s just face the fact that one suburb has been singled out for some strangeness and see how the characters survive (or not).

6.      Fear and laughter are always better experienced in a group. I would have loved to hear other people’s gasps, sighs of relief or laughter. Subtitles, human anguish, clever themes can be experienced alone, but monsters should be a collective experience.

7.      Even in a film based on improbabilities and impossibilities, an ending can feel dishonest if it all ties up too nicely.

All very well, Rachel, but should I go and see the film.

Well, why not? It’s not a masterpiece. It doesn’t really say anything deep beyond celebrating a father’s contribution to families. But it is enjoyable – nicely structured, well-acted, a sense of nostalgic style and has a joke about copulating dinosaurs. And, although not a massive hit in the arthouses, it is apparently the highest-rated dinosaur movie of the 21st century.

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