Synopsis: A quake cracks open the Lost Land beneath crimson canyons. Tracker‑warrior Turok (Johnson) dives after a black‑ops crew exploiting a rift that spits out eras—and predators. Dr. Mara Voss (Johansson), the syndicate’s brilliant mapmaker, flips when she learns the plan: weaponize extinction.

Set pieces snap: a dust‑storm stampede through basalt arches, a rope‑bridge duel as raptors climb from the mist, a tek‑bow shot detonating a charging carnotaurus, and wing‑suit glides between pteros as the sky fractures with lightning fossils. Every step shifts centuries; every echo draws bigger teeth. Final stinger: a scarred tyrant lurches from tar, the horizon ripples—Turok whispers, “Aim for tomorrow.”

Review: Primeval thunder with modern nerve—muscle‑tight choreography, crunchy practical grit, and awe that smells like wet stone and gun oil. Johnson anchors with flint‑calm presence; Johansson threads brains and bite. If the feature keeps this clarity and scale, expect a crowd‑roaring, dino‑gnashing rush.