It’s only slight hyperbole to say that The End of Oak Street is the greatest film Steven Spielberg never made. This is not just because it’s set in 1982 and features remarkably life-like dinosaurs chasing around a nuclear family. It’s because writer-director David Robert Mitchell takes the time—but not too much time—to allow us to get to know this family. We know that mom, Denise (Anne Hathaway, who is apparently legally obligated to be in all the films that come out in 2026), is unhappy in her marriage and fantasizes about running away. She expresses this desire through a novel she’s been secretly hammering away at (on a manual typewriter, no less) in the basement. Meanwhile, dad Greg (Ewan McGregor, likeable enough that we tolerate his attempt at an American accent) is strapped for cash and makes extra money delivering pizzas. Every night, he dutifully removes the pizza cartop from his sedan because, as he tells his son, “Mom is embarrassed.”
Then there are the kids, Brian and Audrey (Christian Convery and Maisy Stella). Brian is crushing on the new girl and running away from a bully. He’s also the one who’s most devoted to the family dog, Starbuck—a somewhat brilliant narrative devise because it answers the question, “Why would a kid leave his home in the middle of a dinosaur uprising?” (Answer: To look for his dog.) And Audrey rather conveniently is obsessed with space travel and Carl Sagan. Her knowledge of black holes and portals comes in handy under the circumstances.
So what are the circumstances? There are lights. Weird objects that show up out of nowhere—a prehistoric plant that suddenly appears in the backyard of kindly Mrs. Huddleston (Anne Gee Byrd) and a giant pile of manure (at first we assume it’s cow manure) that has landed on the front lawn of tetchy neighbor, Mel (P.J. Byrne)—he blames the kids. Then, a giant light flash, a thunderous noise, fierce wind, and the power goes out. But it’s more than that—eventually the family realizes they are surrounded by dinosaurs including pterodactyls, triceratops, and these giant snake like things that can slither around hallways and have a mouthful of spiky teeth. What the hell is actually going on? Is it some sort of alien invasion? Has nature reclaimed the burbs? Have the dinosaurs time traveled? Or…has the neighborhood?
Because we like and care about this family, the stakes are particularly high. And the action is great—family members jumping through cars with shattered windows, using inadequate guns and bows and arrows, getting separated, coming together in emotional reunions. And of course, through it all, Denise and Greg are going to realize how much they love each other.
I was all in.
The fact that it’s set in the 80s makes for a nice Spielberg homage and raises the stakes. No cell phones, no internet, no AI (“Hey Claude, how could a human survive a dinosaur apocalypse?”). A pay phone ends up playing a prominent role.
And the film is funny—not quite as sharp as Spielberg at his best—but the script gets in a few good ones. As far as I know, Spielberg never showed us two T-Rexes getting it on.
There is one deeply disturbing and gory scene that suggests that director Mitchell was raised on a slightly more gnarly version of horror. But his heart is in the right place—he loves these characters and so we do. And as scary as it can be, there’s that comforting Spielbergian feeling that mom and dad are going to make everything okay. Gulp, we hope.