Movie Review ~ The Invisible Raptor

As far back as the 1950s, dinosaur-themed cinema has always been a breeding ground for mad science, chaotic spectacle, and, more recently, the inevitable comparison to Spielberg’s Jurassic Park.  Since our first visit to the Park in 1993, each clone has arrived like a genetic experiment: part homage, part mutation.  Life may find a way, but hack filmmakers and meager budgets often do not.  The Invisible Raptor, the latest in a long lineage of dino-creature features, boldly steps into this primordial genre with an abundance of absurdity and ambition. Unfortunately, much like its titular creature, the film struggles to leave a lasting impression.

It’s a gleefully outlandish premise: a top-secret experiment creates an invisible, hyper-intelligent raptor who escapes confinement and unleashes chaos on an unsuspecting community. The ragtag team tasked with confronting the unseen menace includes disgraced paleontologist Dr. Grant Walker (Mike Capes), his feisty ex-girlfriend Amber (Caitlin McHugh), frazzled amusement park security guard Denny (David Shackelford), and Henrietta McCluckskey (Sandy Martin), a chicken farmer with more, uh, pluck than sense.  As bodies pile up (most of them missing heads), the group must figure out how to track an enemy they can’t see and destroy an ancient reptile already long extinct.

The setup alone hints at the film’s wild mix of sincere homage and nonsensical hokum. Director Mike Hermosa, along with co-writers Johnny Wickham and Capes, make zero effort to hide their love for Spielbergian cinema, peppering the story with nods to Jurassic Park, Jaws, and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Characters’ names are playful Easter eggs—Dr. Grant Walker winks at Sam Neill’s iconic paleontologist, while Debra Kintner (J.J. Nolan, Pretty Problems) and DJ Malcolm (Vanessa Chester, who played Jeff Goldblum’s daughter in The Lost World: Jurassic Park) evoke their own connections to past Spielberg films. Even the score flirts with the unmistakable strains of John Williams, amplifying the nostalgia.

But these references, while endearing at times, too often serve as a crutch. Instead of building a unique identity, the film leans heavily on borrowed themes, leaving its opportunity to be an original voice frustratingly muddled. The homage feels less like a loving tribute and more like a safety net for a story unsure of its footing.

That uncertainty extends to the performances, which range from spirited to uneven. Capes, pulling double duty as co-writer and lead actor, plays Dr. Walker with a straight-faced sincerity that anchors the more absurd moments, but his chemistry with McHugh’s Amber feels forced. McHugh’s quick wit adds some spark, yet their dynamic doesn’t ignite as intended, their supposedly rekindled romance never finding flame.  As beleaguered Denny, Shackelford becomes the film’s punching bag—enduring escalating humiliations that start funny in an “Ernest Meets a Raptor” kind of way but quickly grow tiresome.  

I’m not sure she’s entirely in the same movie as the rest of the actors (Capes seems to be the most in the ballpark), but Martin is a hoot as the cranky chicken lady working with a bundle of numbskulls.  Though she’s the subject of one of the film’s most tasteless jokes near the end, she’s the only one to truly take the full dive headfirst into the extreme camp of it all.  Anytime Sean Astin (The Willies) appears in a film, I’m happy, but let’s say don’t watch the movie solely for his screen time.

Despite its narrative flaws, The Invisible Raptor deserves credit for its technical ingenuity. On a clearly limited budget, the filmmakers deliver a surprisingly effective invisible raptor through clever staging, tactile sound design, and inventive visual cues. The creature feels palpable even when unseen. The attack sequences are imaginative and tense, showcasing a creative approach to an inherently tricky concept. It’s punching far above its weight class and winds up with a threatening and weirdly convincing predator.

However, for all its technical achievements, the film’s pacing is a glaring weakness.  At almost two hours, it suffers from a near terminal case of narrative bloat, bogged down by unnecessary detours and indulgent humor.  The script meanders into tangents that test the audience’s patience—particularly the relentless string of crude gags at Denny’s expense, which increasingly overshadow the plot.  While a tighter edit could have sharpened its focus and preserved the clever charm of its premise, the excessive runtime ultimately saps the momentum built in its first act.

What makes this so frustrating is the potential glimmers of greatness buried within. The idea of an invisible raptor terrorizing a small town is inherently entertaining in an Arachnophobia kind of way, and the film’s moments of intelligence hint at what it could have been. There’s a midnight-movie energy lurking beneath the surface, a spark of cult classic appeal that occasionally flares to life—only to be smothered by the weight of its excesses.

It’s a film that roars with ambition but whimpers under the pressure of its missteps—a reminder that sometimes less is more, even in a genre built on the idea that bigger is better.  Had the editing in The Invisible Raptor been more ruthless, trimming 30-35 minutes of extraneous material, this could have been the kind of hidden gem that physical media enthusiasts hunt like rare fossils when a boutique label eventually gives it the deluxe treatment. Instead, the film becomes an adequate entry in the modern dinosaur genre—entertaining in flashes but ultimately as transparent and forgettable as its titular creature.