Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only describe as prehistoric nostalgia, has acquired a gargantuan plastic sea beast from Mattel. This "Mosasaurus" is a ridiculously oversized effigy, apparently meant to swallow and then violently expel a much smaller, unfortunate-looking green dinosaur. Its primary appeal, from my vantage point, is its sheer scale; at over two feet, it's less a toy and more a piece of impassable geography on the living room rug. The articulated tail has some potential for being batted, but the whole button-operated "Bite 'N Blast" feature seems designed for clumsy human hands. The associated "digital play" is an obvious and pathetic attempt to distract from the elegant simplicity of a well-thrown crinkle ball, and is thus beneath my contempt.
Key Features
- Jurassic World lives Bring the excitement and thrills of Jurassic World Rebirth home with this distinctive Mosasaurus with exciting Bite 'N Blast moves, articulated fins and tail and 25.7-inch long size
- Total attack Kids can easily hold the tail and press the button, or manually open the prey-seeking jaw. The jaw opens wide, ready to 'Bite' and swallow the Dilophosaurus mini figure
- Spitting image Hold the tail and press the button again and the Mosasaurus 'Blasts' the Dilophosaurus prey back out of its mouth
- Great toy This Mosasaurus makes an exciting toy for any dinosaur lover 4 years or older, especially Jurassic World fans
- Scan and collect Scan the code under the fin in the free Jurassic World Play App with a compatible smart device (not included) for AR activities and to create a digital dinosaur collection
- Ride 'N Rampage: Colossal Chase In this updated app game, race various vehicles on land, air and sea and play an exciting shooting game that extracts DNA from the dinosaurs
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a cardboard cage, which was briefly more interesting than its contents. Once liberated, the cerulean behemoth lay upon my sunning rug, a silent, plastic usurper. My human, whom I shall refer to as The Curator for the purposes of this incident, presented it with a flourish. "Look, Pete! A Mosasaurus!" I observed it from a safe distance, tail twitching in critical assessment. It was an art installation, clearly. A piece of post-modern absurdity titled "Futility in Blue." Its vast, unblinking eye stared into the middle distance, its hollow form promising a satisfyingly deep *thump* if pushed from a great height. The Curator then demonstrated its primary function. With a press of a button on its tail, the creature's jaw unhinged with an unnerving *clack*. He then took the accompanying piece—a small, lurid green figure—and placed it within the gaping maw. Another press, and the jaw snapped shut. I must admit, a flicker of professional interest sparked within me. Hiding a small object inside a larger one is a classic trope, one I have perfected with my own toys under the sofa. But this was so… unsubtle. So terribly brutish. The Curator's final act was to press the button again, causing the blue beast to unceremoniously spit the green figurine across the floor. A crude, regurgitative spectacle. I gave a dismissive flick of my ear and began grooming a perfectly clean patch of fur on my shoulder. For a day, the installation remained untouched, a monument to poor taste. The Curator seemed disappointed. But on the second evening, as the low light of the television flickered across the room, I saw the true potential. The art was not in the object itself, but in the performance. I approached the small green figure, which The Curator had carelessly left near the blue monster's head. With a deft, calculated flick of my paw, I sent the figurine skittering directly into the open mouth of the Mosasaurus. The Curator, delighted, retrieved it and set up the scene again. We had found our rhythm. He was no longer The Curator, but my assistant. His role was to reset the stage, to prepare the canvas. My role was to provide the dramatic action, the precise and elegant strike that delivered the small, green sacrifice to its plastic doom. The Mosasaurus is a vulgar, noisy contraption. Its "Bite 'N Blast" is for the simple-minded. But as a stage for my own theatrical talents, a grand amphitheater for the tragic drama of "The Little Green One"? For that purpose, and that purpose alone, it is a masterpiece. It can stay.
