The End Of Oak Street ★★

Released: 14 August 2026

Director: David Robert Mitchell

Starring: Anne Hathaway, Ewan McGregor, Maisy Stella, Christian Convery, Jordan Alexa Davis & P.J. Byrne

Aside from Dr Ian Malcolm’s most famous line, “Life finds a way” from Jurassic Park, his other famous quote also rings true for David Robert Mitchell’s The End of Oak Street: “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” 

There’s no denying the Spielberg-ness of it all.  In fact, it warmly welcomes it. Oak Street has that Amblin-coded formula baked in its celluloid veins with all of its tropes and familiarity: a coming-of-age story, a family in despair, kids on their bikes (because there always is – we don’t make the rules), and teenage angst and fears all brewing in a suburban hotpot that’s about to simmer and overspill once that ‘big mystery’ seasoning satchet has been added to the mix. Pop-culturally, it goes to show that Spielberg’s essence of adventurism never left us, capturing a yearning to be part of that on-screen ensemble group that escapes from mundanity for something magical. But of course, it’s the wider element it represents: a simpler time in our movie consumption, a feel-good throwback where there were no mobile phones or internet, just a copious amount of wit, dreams, library books and old-school hijinks to get by. It’s an unashamed comfort blanket that can only be nailed down as an art form, and many have done so in recent years – Super 8, Stranger Things and Star Wars: Skeleton Crew (to name a few), and Mitchell faithfully crafts that slice of nostalgia. 

But when it comes down to it, Oak Street offers a pale imitation, driven not by Mitchell’s own stamp on the genre or by his eclectic filmography, but rather by the yearning and desire for films we’ve seen do it better. Why bother watching a recreation when you can throw on a DVD or Blu-ray of a film from that era? Yet, at least Oak Street proves dinosaurs can exist outside of the Jurassic Park bubble, a franchise so swept up in sequel-itis that the awe and wonder of the 1993 film have long since departed. And for the most part, Oak Street revels in its fun and silliness, easily clearing those low bars left by its Cretaceous counterpart. But once the nostalgia fades, it’s only then that the story starts to fall apart at the seams.

For a concept that feels as if it were ripped out of the J.J. Abrams ‘mystery box’ playbook (J.J. also serves as producer), Oak Street’s story begins innocently enough. Its sun-kissed suburbia is alive and kicking thanks to its summer block party, yet the community barbecues, water balloons and sack races can’t disguise the troubles brewing beneath the perfectionist veneers. The Platt family are in the midst of crisis and rebellion. Greg (Ewan McGregor) was recently laid off from his job and takes shifts as a pizza delivery driver to make money. His wife Denise (Anne Hathaway) channels her growing dissatisfaction with her marriage and thoughts of leaving her family by writing a book. Meanwhile, their son Brian (Christian Convery) smokes, has fallen foul of a local neighbourhood kid who wants to beat him up, and is attracted to a female neighbour who went to private school. His older sister Audrey (Maisy Stella) is more ‘outta space’ than planet Earth in her obsession with Carl Sagan and cosmology. It’s fertile groundwork for what happens next. Mitchell (who also wrote the script) fills that mystery box with strange lights, atmospheric changes, extinct plants growing out of the soil, and an irate neighbour (played by Babylon’s P.J. Byrne) who finds dinosaur number twos in his backyard (and subsequently blames The Platts and their dog Starbuck for it). One night, during a heavy storm, ‘There Goes the Neighbourhood’ takes on a very different turn.

Once the dinosaurs appear, transporting themselves through some ‘timey-wimey’ bubble that engulfs Oak Street, there’s no shortage of craft and ingenuity on display. Mitchell’s trademark shots of long, slow zooms pave the way for some intricately placed tension. The frequent use of split diopter shots creates an unsettling feeling during a family conversation about the strange happenings in their community. Practical effects of objects being knocked in the air make for a good, fence-hopping chase with Greg as it builds into the slow reveals of its feathered predators, while silence plays a big role as a giant-sized snake slithers its way into the Platt family home. Based on vibes alone, the It Follows and Under the Silver Lake director hits the mark with its technical accomplishments. However, that is as far as those achievements go. 

Mitchell invests so fondly in the cosplay aesthetic of Oak Street, right down to its growing isolationist environment where neighbours are either dead, hiding or naively not paying attention, that its story takes an underwhelming backseat. Not much thought is put into the mystery itself. Like its ‘mystery box’ convention, it wants you to merrily indulge in its time-travelling shenanigans, hoping it dangles enough information so you don’t see the cracks in the screenplay. The mystery simply exists, and now The Platts, who have to overcome marital problems, their missing dog and preventing milk from turning sour, have to deal with the new norm. And like the Spielbergian gaze it has trapped itself in, that ultimate test of survival is unable to shake the clash of disinterested ideas on what Oak Street wants to achieve. Its lack of sharpness never finds the right tone or energy to make its efforts truly exhilarating. Its lack of bravery means it never reaches any sort of cathartic high. Instead, this film chalks itself up on ‘choices’ and banks on its ‘Hail Mary’ of a third act, which derails and undermines its plot entirely. 

With its characters failing to grow beyond their surface-level introductions, it never fully believes or trusts itself to ever leave first gear. That cautious, non-committal affront happily resounds in clichés and repetitions, leaving its stars with very little depth to manoeuvre with. Hathaway is perhaps the best of the bunch; after all, “Mother” gets to wield a shotgun and shoot at dinosaurs – what’s not to like? Her larger-than-life protectiveness and pessimism often clash with McGregor’s adamant optimism. But it offers nothing more than that in return, nothing that contemplates their existence on the food chain. As Hathaway carries the film through all the absurdity and kitchen-sink paradoxes, those endeavours are lost amongst the shallow noise and are quickly undone by Mitchell’s frequent safe retreat. 

And in its race towards its rushed finish line, there are glimpses which showcase a fraction of its brilliance and what it is capable of. But when it gradually runs out of steam, the frustration sets in, and that’s where the magic ends. For all its originality and freshness, under better direction and a more committed script, its meaty concept would have given something to shout about. Instead, The End of Oak Street might be a wild adventure, but it is an uneven one, a masquerading spectacle that leaves you feeling empty.