It’s difficult these days to make a nature documentary that isn’t like all the others. Spectacular landscapes, crisp closeup photography, tales of predation and survival, birth and death: whether you go for Pixar cuteness, crimson claws or environmental crisis, it’s been done 100 times before. Watching The Dinosaurs, it’s hard not to sense the same problem starting to affect factual shows about the animal kingdom as it was millions of years ago. Impressive as it is that big-money dino documentaries boast visual effects that look similar to footage of Earth today, we are getting used to it.
Before the opening titles roll, cliches from two genres have been cross-bred. From regular animal shows, there’s the one where a lone male tries to muscle in on a family unit, forcing the existing patriarch to fight for his status against a younger, stronger rival. Our friend who looks as if he’s about to be fatally pushed aside is a pachycephalosaurus, but the dynamic is the same. Then the two males’ head-smashing battle is interrupted by a familiar sight from dinosaur documentaries: the animal posing a threat is suddenly bitten in two by a Tyrannosaurus rex, leaping unbidden through the undergrowth with a camp flourish. The pachycephalosaurus clan, led by their relieved dad, scurry happily away to the sound of the interloper’s cracking skull.
