Jungle Cruise

There is a specific kind of madness required to look at a 65-year-old theme park attraction—one where a bored teenager in a khaki hat makes "dad jokes" while mechanical hippos wiggle their ears—and decide it needs a $200 million cinematic expansion. But here we are. Jungle Cruise arrived in 2021, a year when the film industry was still stumbling out of its pandemic-induced fever dream, trying to figure out if people wanted to sit in a dark theater or just pay $30 to watch Dwayne Johnson fight a CGI leopard from the comfort of their own sofas.

I watched this for the first time while wearing a pair of itchy wool socks I’d found in the back of my drawer, and strangely, that mild physical discomfort perfectly complemented the "roughing it" vibe of the Amazonian setting. It’s a film that desperately wants to be The Mummy (1999) or Raiders of the Lost Ark, and while it doesn't quite reach those heights, it settles into a very comfortable groove of being a high-budget Sunday afternoon distraction.

The Chemistry of the Cruise

The entire enterprise rests on the shoulders of Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt, and luckily, those are some very sturdy shoulders. Johnson plays Frank Wolff, a skipper who has turned the "Skipper’s Puns" from the Disneyland ride into a lifestyle. He’s cynical, broke, and possibly immortalizing the 'smoldering intensity' look to a degree that should be medically regulated. Opposite him is Blunt as Dr. Lily Houghton, a scientist who refuses to wear a dress in 1916 and has a refreshing tendency to do her own stunts while looking perpetually annoyed by Frank’s existence.

Their banter is the movie's engine. In an era where many franchise films feel like they were written by an algorithm designed to minimize risk, the rapport between Frank and Lily feels genuinely human. It’s the "screwball comedy" energy of the 1940s filtered through a 21st-century blockbuster lens. When they aren't arguing about whether "pants" are appropriate for a lady, they’re navigating a plot involving the "Tears of the Moon"—a mythical tree with healing powers that every villain in the hemisphere is currently hunting.

A Modern Spectacle of Pixels

Director Jaume Collet-Serra, who usually spends his time putting Liam Neeson in precarious positions (like in Unknown or The Commuter), brings a surprising amount of kinetic energy to the action. However, being a product of the 2020s, the film suffers from the "Volume" era of filmmaking. There are moments where the Amazon looks lush and terrifying, and other moments where the CGI looks like a wet fever dream cooked up inside a Playstation 5.

The action choreography is inventive, particularly a sequence involving a Rube Goldberg-esque escape from a library, but the climax eventually devolves into the standard "swirling vortex of magical debris" that has become the mandatory ending for every film with a nine-figure budget. It’s a bit of a shame, because when the film stays small—focusing on the creaky mechanics of Frank’s boat or the physical comedy of Jack Whitehall (playing Lily’s brother, McGregor) trying to bring a literal bathtub into the jungle—it shines. Jesse Plemons also deserves a shout-out as the villainous Prince Joachim; he plays the role with a bizarre, campy German accent that feels like he’s in a completely different, much weirder movie, and I loved every second of it.

The Secret Life of a Modern "Cult" Favorite

Even though it was a "franchise starter," Jungle Cruise has developed a bit of a devoted following among people who miss the mid-budget adventure romps of the 90s. It’s the kind of movie that feels better on the third viewing because you start noticing the weird details that the production team snuck in.

Apparently, the production was a bit of a pun-themed boot camp. Dwayne Johnson and the writers spent weeks "workshop-ing" the worst possible jokes to ensure they stayed true to the spirit of the original ride. If you think the puns are bad, just know they were carefully curated for maximum groan-inducing impact. Another odd bit of trivia: the film’s score actually features a collaboration with Metallica. The band worked with composer James Newton Howard (The Fugitive) to create a symphonic, dark-western version of "Nothing Else Matters" for the scenes involving the cursed conquistadors (led by a very mossy Edgar Ramírez).

The movie also faced a bizarre real-world hurdle when its release was caught in the crossfire of Disney's "Premier Access" experiment. This led to some very public behind-the-scenes tension regarding how actors were compensated when their films went straight to streaming—a conversation that has fundamentally changed how Hollywood contracts are written in this post-pandemic landscape.

Ultimately, Jungle Cruise is a loud, colorful, and endearly cheesy throwback. It’s a film that knows exactly what it is: a vehicle for two very charming movie stars to bicker while things explode behind them. It doesn't redefine the genre, and it certainly won't make you forget Indiana Jones, but it’s a voyage worth taking if you’ve got a couple of hours to kill and a high tolerance for puns about botanical biology.