Let's get this out of the way. No, I do not dislike this movie because the animals in it are (severely) inaccurate. However, I feel it's one of the contributing factors as to why the movie, I personally believe, didn't perform well or garner much public interest, this being because a majority of the so-called dinos that appear in 65 are totally unrecognisable as dinosaurs. Allow me to explain: if you show someone classic vintage artwork of an outdated dinosaur reconstruction, whether that be a water-bound wiggly-necked sauropod or a vertically-upright tail-dragging theropod (such as from the influential works of legendary palaeo-artist Charles R. Knight), they'd likely be able to recognise the image as an old-timely dinosaur in an instant. Whereas the weird Xenomorph-ish looking creatures we actually get in the movie look way more like bland space monster designs with little-to-no variety and hardly any distinguishing features, kind of like some generic flick you'd catch on the Syfy channel (try to think of them like bargain bin H. R. Giger knockoffs), rather than anything remotely close to resembling even a traditional dino model depiction. This is honestly perplexing to me, especially considering the fact that Adam Driver and Ariana Greenblatt's characters are the ones who're supposed to be the extraterrestrial visitors from another world and the faunal organisms we see are meant to be the native lifeforms of the planet they crash-landed on (that of course being prehistoric Earth). I don't know if this is true or not but that's only my assumption as to why 65 might've turned a lot folks off (especially dino-fanatics), because these uninspired Hollywood-made monsters just don't look at all like the conventional pop-culture dinosaurs (either stereotypical or up-to-date) they know and have grown accustomed to seeing in most forms of mainstream media.
The movie itself begins approx. 66,000,000 years ago B. C. E. And I was ready for it. Imagine all the cool animal encounters the characters could have with the various inhabitants of the Maastrichtian, especially if it's set within the North American region (certainly has potential). Our first non-avian dinosaur is the late Cretaceous troodont Pectinodon near a waterfall, a (possibly nocturnal) raptor species that's frequently used for many jump-scare moments built on artificial tension. OK, not off to too bad of a start (minus any physical inaccuracies), shows promise. Following this, in a forested area, we see... an ugly-looking Jakapil? A small biped with armoured scutes known from the Kokorkom desert of mid Cretaceous Patagonia (huh, excuse me?). Next up, wandering through the same stretch of woodland, there's a pack of what I can only think are freakishly oversized Lagosuchus, slender lizard-like archosaurs that're portrayed as loud brainless hunters instead of tiny efficient omnivores. So now, it appears that we've miraculously been transported even further back in time to late Triassic Argentina. Then we stumble across a Dsungaripterus flock on a beach, large-crested pterosaurs that lived in early Cretaceous China (alright, this is getting ridiculous). After that, it's a drab dull interpretation of what I suspect is the oviraptorid Anzu in a cave. If correct, this would mean that we've somehow made it all the way back to the Hell Creek Formation at the tail end of the upper Cretaceous, which is seemingly confirmed by the presence of what I presume are a sickly pair of radically malformed Tyrannosaurus that pop up at the spaceship wreckage site (finally, we're back on track!). But, wait... oh, no! Last but not least (drumroll, please!): a largely exaggerated Fasolasuchus rocks up near a geyser field to give the terrified characters one last fright, which means we've once again magically taken several steps back to late Triassic Argentina, for us to inexplicably come face-to-face with this predatory quadrupedal pseudosuchian, that might I add has been excessively decorated with a much thicker layer of jagged osteoderms than necessary (convoluted, much?).
That's the biggest problem with this whole movie. To put it simply, 65 doesn't know what it wants to be. What temporal range do they want to settle on? There's no good sense of chronological consistency within the internal context of the movie's geological locales whatsoever, a strikingly similar issue to the Jurassic World Dominion prologue and the duration of 10,000 BC (both of which were also riddled with their own geographical sins). It's as if they couldn't decide whereabouts on the Mesozoic timeline to have their story take place, so the filmmakers may've wanted to have their cake and eat it too by setting the movie literally days before the worldwide disaster of the global K-Pg mass extinction event and just randomly threw in all these out-of-place species which are unrelated to this given timeframe. It's jarring, confusing, and for me, off-putting. Why not commit to ONE time and place, or is that too much to ask? The only thing that kept reminding me of when abouts this movie is actually supposed to be set (other than the erroneous title, obviously) was that the characters kept on getting notified via a little device which warned them of an incoming meteor headed toward the planet. Without that, I surely would've lost track of the specific period completely.
A big negative cliche this movie pedals is the age-old villain narrative of the ultra hyperactive carnivores acting like malicious antagonistic aggressors that always attack unprovoked because their general representation is mostly done in a biased way which makes them out to be these relentlessly deranged murderers that're constantly famished every dang second (in no way is this realistic behaviour), while in stark contrast to the super peaceful herbivores which are far too often depicted as either timid and docile or simply altogether harmless (this is a royally dumb trope). By that same token, does this mean people think ALL carnivorous animals are inherently bad? If so, then what kind of logic is that? Canines and felines are predominantly meat-eaters, yet you don't see everyone going around labelling their beloved dogs and cats as demonstrably evil, do you? No, because they ARE ordinary animals with feelings and NOT heartless creatures that're devoid of any emotion. They're like every other carnivore out there in the world, plain and simple. The mere notion of there being both GOOD and EVIL in the animal kingdom is an outright fallacy. I still cite Jaws as the primary culprit for sustaining carnivores' bad reputation among the general masses.
From what I've looked up about 65, there were originally a few low-browsing dinosaurs included in the movie, such as Triceratops and Ankylosaurus (possibly even a stegosaur). These additions would've made the lacklustre intensity in the suspenseful scenes feel far more impactful if they actually ended up having these dangerous and potentially near-fatal dino encounters as obstacles for the two leads to overcome, helping to dispel the tired old myth that ALL plant-munching herbivores are "passive creatures that'll let you get up close to pet them." The megafauna of today's world are very much capable of becoming brutishly reactive and can inflict some pretty serious damage whenever they feel threatened, going into a hostile defensive mode as their survival instincts naturally kick in. You know how many people have been trampled to death each year by stampeding cattle, after they'd wandered into their territory? Quite a lot more than there've been by skittish predators, which are usually fearful and thus would typically try to avoid getting injured during a confrontation if they assess that the situation at hand is not worth the risk of engagement (they're not stupid). Herbivorous animals CAN be an intimidating force too and deserve our utmost respect (I wish more people would understand this). I'm willing to believe that the test-audiences were so bored that the studio had to remove these scenes entirely, proving why test-audiences are the worst things ever (they ruin everything).
This poorly thought-out creature feature is in dire need of an overhaul. Here's a thought: instead of the characters being these very human-like humanoid aliens, the movie could've benefited from them being actual humans. I think that would've been so much better of a choice from a creative standpoint, if it were about a human astronauts from a futuristic Earth that have their space shuttle crash land by pure accident on a previously unexplored planet where they come across an eerie primordial ecosystem of horrific saurian-esque cosmic critters that, by some astronomical coincidence in convergent evolution, just so happen to vaguely resemble the extinct animal specimens seen in the fossil record of our own planet's ancient past (making them appear otherworldly, yet familiar to us in a primitive sense). Tell me this straightforward premise setup doesn't sound more comprehensible than what we ended up with.
The movie itself begins approx. 66,000,000 years ago B. C. E. And I was ready for it. Imagine all the cool animal encounters the characters could have with the various inhabitants of the Maastrichtian, especially if it's set within the North American region (certainly has potential). Our first non-avian dinosaur is the late Cretaceous troodont Pectinodon near a waterfall, a (possibly nocturnal) raptor species that's frequently used for many jump-scare moments built on artificial tension. OK, not off to too bad of a start (minus any physical inaccuracies), shows promise. Following this, in a forested area, we see... an ugly-looking Jakapil? A small biped with armoured scutes known from the Kokorkom desert of mid Cretaceous Patagonia (huh, excuse me?). Next up, wandering through the same stretch of woodland, there's a pack of what I can only think are freakishly oversized Lagosuchus, slender lizard-like archosaurs that're portrayed as loud brainless hunters instead of tiny efficient omnivores. So now, it appears that we've miraculously been transported even further back in time to late Triassic Argentina. Then we stumble across a Dsungaripterus flock on a beach, large-crested pterosaurs that lived in early Cretaceous China (alright, this is getting ridiculous). After that, it's a drab dull interpretation of what I suspect is the oviraptorid Anzu in a cave. If correct, this would mean that we've somehow made it all the way back to the Hell Creek Formation at the tail end of the upper Cretaceous, which is seemingly confirmed by the presence of what I presume are a sickly pair of radically malformed Tyrannosaurus that pop up at the spaceship wreckage site (finally, we're back on track!). But, wait... oh, no! Last but not least (drumroll, please!): a largely exaggerated Fasolasuchus rocks up near a geyser field to give the terrified characters one last fright, which means we've once again magically taken several steps back to late Triassic Argentina, for us to inexplicably come face-to-face with this predatory quadrupedal pseudosuchian, that might I add has been excessively decorated with a much thicker layer of jagged osteoderms than necessary (convoluted, much?).
That's the biggest problem with this whole movie. To put it simply, 65 doesn't know what it wants to be. What temporal range do they want to settle on? There's no good sense of chronological consistency within the internal context of the movie's geological locales whatsoever, a strikingly similar issue to the Jurassic World Dominion prologue and the duration of 10,000 BC (both of which were also riddled with their own geographical sins). It's as if they couldn't decide whereabouts on the Mesozoic timeline to have their story take place, so the filmmakers may've wanted to have their cake and eat it too by setting the movie literally days before the worldwide disaster of the global K-Pg mass extinction event and just randomly threw in all these out-of-place species which are unrelated to this given timeframe. It's jarring, confusing, and for me, off-putting. Why not commit to ONE time and place, or is that too much to ask? The only thing that kept reminding me of when abouts this movie is actually supposed to be set (other than the erroneous title, obviously) was that the characters kept on getting notified via a little device which warned them of an incoming meteor headed toward the planet. Without that, I surely would've lost track of the specific period completely.
A big negative cliche this movie pedals is the age-old villain narrative of the ultra hyperactive carnivores acting like malicious antagonistic aggressors that always attack unprovoked because their general representation is mostly done in a biased way which makes them out to be these relentlessly deranged murderers that're constantly famished every dang second (in no way is this realistic behaviour), while in stark contrast to the super peaceful herbivores which are far too often depicted as either timid and docile or simply altogether harmless (this is a royally dumb trope). By that same token, does this mean people think ALL carnivorous animals are inherently bad? If so, then what kind of logic is that? Canines and felines are predominantly meat-eaters, yet you don't see everyone going around labelling their beloved dogs and cats as demonstrably evil, do you? No, because they ARE ordinary animals with feelings and NOT heartless creatures that're devoid of any emotion. They're like every other carnivore out there in the world, plain and simple. The mere notion of there being both GOOD and EVIL in the animal kingdom is an outright fallacy. I still cite Jaws as the primary culprit for sustaining carnivores' bad reputation among the general masses.
From what I've looked up about 65, there were originally a few low-browsing dinosaurs included in the movie, such as Triceratops and Ankylosaurus (possibly even a stegosaur). These additions would've made the lacklustre intensity in the suspenseful scenes feel far more impactful if they actually ended up having these dangerous and potentially near-fatal dino encounters as obstacles for the two leads to overcome, helping to dispel the tired old myth that ALL plant-munching herbivores are "passive creatures that'll let you get up close to pet them." The megafauna of today's world are very much capable of becoming brutishly reactive and can inflict some pretty serious damage whenever they feel threatened, going into a hostile defensive mode as their survival instincts naturally kick in. You know how many people have been trampled to death each year by stampeding cattle, after they'd wandered into their territory? Quite a lot more than there've been by skittish predators, which are usually fearful and thus would typically try to avoid getting injured during a confrontation if they assess that the situation at hand is not worth the risk of engagement (they're not stupid). Herbivorous animals CAN be an intimidating force too and deserve our utmost respect (I wish more people would understand this). I'm willing to believe that the test-audiences were so bored that the studio had to remove these scenes entirely, proving why test-audiences are the worst things ever (they ruin everything).
This poorly thought-out creature feature is in dire need of an overhaul. Here's a thought: instead of the characters being these very human-like humanoid aliens, the movie could've benefited from them being actual humans. I think that would've been so much better of a choice from a creative standpoint, if it were about a human astronauts from a futuristic Earth that have their space shuttle crash land by pure accident on a previously unexplored planet where they come across an eerie primordial ecosystem of horrific saurian-esque cosmic critters that, by some astronomical coincidence in convergent evolution, just so happen to vaguely resemble the extinct animal specimens seen in the fossil record of our own planet's ancient past (making them appear otherworldly, yet familiar to us in a primitive sense). Tell me this straightforward premise setup doesn't sound more comprehensible than what we ended up with.