READY FOR AN EXTINCTION-LEVEL EVENT MOVIE? IN AN APATOSAURUS - SIZED WORLD EXCLUSIVE, EMPIRE VISITS THE SET OF JURASSIC WORLD DOMINION, THE DINOSAUR SPECTACULAR TO END THEM ALL

WORDS NICK DEWORDS SEMLYEN

"YOU'RE GOING TO SEE JEFF GOLDBLUM DO SOME CRAZY SHIT.”

This would be, at any time, in any place, an exciting promise. After all, Jeff Goldblum is a one-man carnival, a human so effervescently entertaining that there exists a YouTube video of his Jurassic Park character, Ian Malcolm, laughing on loop for ten solid hours (it’s been viewed, so far, by 137,000 people). His jazz nights are legendary, not just for the music but for the fact that he’ll happily read out audience members’ WhatsApp messages to the room in dramatic fashion. He might play an impromptu round of Seven Degrees Of Jeff Goldblum with you, or announce that he feels “sleek as a panther”. Anything is possible.

But today that promise, delivered to Empire by director Colin Trevorrow, feels especially electric. Because it’s approaching midnight on the vast Pinewood Studios backlot, which has been painstakingly terraformed into a mossy primordial forest, and it’s not just regular Jeff Goldblum approaching us through the spookily convincing artificial trees. It’s Jeff Goldblum as Ian Malcolm. The man who puts the ‘Ian’ in ‘chaotician’ was briefly revived for 2018’s Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom for two short scenes in which Malcolm addressed a Senate committee. But now the globally beloved character is back in black. Wearing a dark outfit and with just a hint of chest hair showing, Goldblum steps forward into a pool of magical God-light, wiggles his hips, stares upwards, then asks a question.

“Should I beckon to it?”

The “it” in question is the star’s scene partner, an 11-ton, 22-foot-tall dinosaur. It’s called the Giganotosaurus, but everyone refers to it as the ‘Giga’, presumably because using short words is best when you’re in the vicinity of something bigger, badder and nastier than even an Indominus Rex. “I wanted something that felt like the Joker,” Trevorrow explains of the colossal animatronic, which has scarring on its face resembling melted make-up. “It just wants to watch the world burn.”

You’re gonna need a bigger studio — Pinewood plays host to an animatronic Giganotosaurus during filming

And, as Goldblum’s spontaneous suggestion is declined (some shit, it turns out, is just too crazy), and a small, gathered crowd (including fellow returning Jurassic stalwarts Laura Dern and Sam Neill) watch, slowly the beast begins to come to life.

First, its huge yellow eyes blink. Then, its tongue — roughly the size of a transit van; slathered with a viscous liquid doubling for dino slobber — jolts forward. Before Empire’s eyes, as operated by a band of technicians, this hulking mechanical mountain comes alive: breathing, snarling, terrifying. “We’re living in this themepark ride,” marvels Chris Pratt, who’s on set too. “I mean, people pay hundreds of dollars and wait in line just to get a chance to see something like that.”

It’s glorious, an astounding feat of old-school effects-work. Until it isn’t. Because in true Jurassic style, science goes awry, and the dinosaur suddenly shuts down. “My Giga broke,” mourns Trevorrow. “These things are finicky,” sympathises Goldblum, a man who would know, having spent days on the original film shooting with a practical T-Rex. The craziness is, for now, on pause.