65

When I first saw the trailer for 65, I thought it was a fake-out. Surely, in an age where every movie is part of a twelve-film roadmap or a gritty reboot of a 1980s cartoon, we weren’t actually getting a mid-budget, original sci-fi movie about Adam Driver fighting dinosaurs with a laser rifle? It felt like a glitch in the Matrix. I ended up watching this on a rainy Tuesday afternoon while wearing a pair of exceptionally itchy wool socks I found in the back of my drawer, and honestly, the physical discomfort of the socks perfectly mirrored the "sweaty, mud-caked survival" vibe the movie was going for.

Directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods (the minds who wrote A Quiet Place), 65 is a lean, 92-minute exercise in "what you see is what you get." There are no post-credit scenes setting up a Prehistoric Cinematic Universe. There’s just a guy named Mills (Adam Driver, who brings a weirdly intense commitment to everything he does), a young girl named Koa (Ariana Greenblatt), and a whole lot of hungry reptiles. It’s the kind of B-movie we used to get all the time in the 90s, now dressed up with 2023 CGI and a leading man who looks like he’d rather be doing a Jim Jarmusch film but is still going to give 110% to shooting a raptor in the face.

Survival of the Grittiest

The action choreography here is less about "superhero landing" poses and more about the desperate, clumsy scramble of survival. Because Mills and Koa don't speak the same language, the film relies heavily on visual storytelling and sound design. Scott Beck and Bryan Woods clearly learned from their time in the A Quiet Place trenches that silence is a tool. The way the film uses a handheld "proximity sensor" to build dread is a classic trick, but it works. Every time that little gadget started chirping, I found myself leaning away from my screen.

The set pieces are staged with a refreshing clarity. In a contemporary era where many action scenes are a blurred mess of "shaky-cam" and quick cuts, the directors here actually let us see the scale of the threat. There’s a sequence involving a cave-in and a very persistent predator that is genuinely claustrophobic. It’s essentially a high-budget episode of a show that would have aired on Syfy at 2:00 AM in 2004, but with better lighting. The stunts feel heavy; when Mills falls, you feel the thud. Driver’s physicality is his greatest asset here—he sells the exhaustion of a man who is grieving his own family while trying to protect a stranger in a world that wants to eat them both.

The Budding Cult of the Mid-Budget Flop

While 65 didn't exactly shatter the box office—earning about $60 million on a $45 million budget—it’s already finding its legs as a "modern cult oddity." In the current climate of franchise dominance, there’s something rebellious about a movie this simple. It’s become a favorite for film enthusiasts who are tired of three-hour runtimes and "multiverse" homework. It’s a "Dad Movie" in the purest sense: straightforward, high-concept, and over before your popcorn bucket is empty.

The behind-the-scenes trivia is where the cult appeal really starts to bake. For starters, the creature designs are fascinating because the dinosaurs look like they were designed by someone who had a prehistoric fever dream rather than a paleontology degree. They don’t look like the "historically accurate" feathered creatures we see in documentaries; they look like monsters. Apparently, the production filmed in the Kisatchie National Forest in Louisiana, which provided a swampy, oppressive atmosphere that CGI just can’t replicate.

There were also rumors of a much more "experimental" version of the film existing before the studio got involved. Originally, Danny Elfman (who did the iconic Batman score) was set to compose the music before Chris Bacon took over. You can feel that tension in the final product—a tug-of-war between a weird, silent art film and a summer blockbuster. It’s those rough edges that make me like it more than I probably should. Fans have already started obsessively cataloging the "Somaris" technology, from the collapsible ladders to the high-tech grenades, proving that even a "flop" can inspire a dedicated following if the world-building is cool enough.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

One of the most interesting things about the production was Adam Driver’s insistence on doing many of the physical stunts himself. During the swamp sequences, he was actually trekking through knee-deep muck, which probably explains why he looks so genuinely miserable throughout the second act. Also, if you look closely at the star charts Mills uses, there are subtle nods to the fact that his civilization isn't just "human," but an ancient precursor—a trope sci-fi fans have been debating since the days of Prometheus.

The asteroid strike, which looms over the film like a ticking clock, was also a point of contention for the effects team. They wanted the impact to feel different from the "big explosion" tropes we've seen a thousand times. By framing the asteroid as a looming, glowing eye in the sky, they managed to give a piece of space rock a predatory personality of its own. It’s these little creative flourishes that elevate 65 from a disposable streamer to something I’ll probably revisit every few years when I’m in the mood for some "prehistoric noir."

In a decade where cinema feels increasingly bloated, 65 is a lean, mean, slightly confused dinosaur snack. It doesn't reinvent the wheel—or the asteroid—but it provides a solid ninety minutes of Adam Driver looking stressed out in the woods. It’s the kind of film that reminds me why I love the "B-movie" tradition: it knows exactly what it is and doesn't apologize for it. Grab some snacks (and maybe some non-itchy socks), and give it a shot.

I walked away from this one realizing that sometimes, you don't need a complex plot or a deeper meaning. Sometimes, you just need to see a futuristic shotgun blast a T-Rex. It’s a simple pleasure that fits perfectly into the modern streaming landscape, even if it feels like a relic from a different era of filmmaking. If this is what "original" sci-fi looks like in 2023, I’ll take the occasional stumble over a polished, boring franchise sequel any day.