Goldblum, Dern, and Neill: Back in Business, Now With Wi-Fi Chaos

Max Sterling, 2/3/2026 Taika Waititi revives Jurassic Park’s beloved trio for Xfinity’s Super Bowl spot—a witty collision of dino nostalgia, ‘90s charm, and broadband bravado. In this pixelated park, Goldblum, Dern, and Neill dodge danger with Wi-Fi speed, proving that nostalgia, much like life (and marketing), always finds a way.

It almost feels like a prank at first. There’s the iconic Jeep, rain-slicked, the sort of lighting that screams “Spielberg homage,” and suddenly it’s 1993 all over again—but then the wires show, or, in this case, the Wi-Fi. The pitch? As wild as anything Nedry cooked up: what if Xfinity’s network had been beaming through Isla Nublar all along? Imagine Dennis reduced to a minor IT headache, and Malcolm—ever the philosopher—contemplating probability between sips of poolside lemonade. (It takes a certain panache to drop Goldblum in a scenario where chaos theory mainly governs the router.)

Taika Waititi steers the whole affair, sprinkling the same oddball charm he pasted across Thor: Ragnarok and that rabbit-fueled fever dream back in 2019. Goldblum, returning to Waititi’s orbit, drapes his lines in that familiar drawl—the kind you half expect to morph into a lounge-jazz tangent at any moment. Meanwhile, Dern, clad in her Sattler denim, smiles with the unburdened grace of someone not elbow-deep in triceratops droppings for once. Neill’s Grant, often all furrowed brow and fossilized seriousness, now looks ready to stream paleontology webinars between T. rex sightings.

Not to gloss over the technical polish. ILM, ever the gold standard, stitches together those CGI dinosaurs and real-world actors so seamlessly you can almost forget you’re being sold something. Williams’ music surges, lending the kind of gravitas usually reserved for lost worlds and colossal gates creaking open—not so much for stable wireless connectivity. But here lies the mischief: rather than simply don the nostalgia for old times’ sake, Waititi and company remix it, turning trauma into trivia, disaster into dino-memes. Sattler’s once-dire “We’re back in business” now cues Wi-Fi, not rampaging carnivores. Makes you wonder if Spielberg foresaw any of this in the days when dial-up was king.

Of course, commerce lurks behind every gleaming amber stone. Xfinity, Comcast, NBCUniversal—pick your mega-brand—they’re not shy about the cross-promotional waltz. Brand officers beam about “cultural crossovers” only their conglomerate could conjure. There’s a certain wink there, almost daring the audience to call bluff, but really—who cares when the delivery’s this self-aware? Someone once said nostalgia is the business model of the 2020s, and it would be hard to argue after this kind of spectacle. Especially when you’re promised dino rides through downtown San Francisco or the chance to stumble upon a rogue Universal raptor while heading to coffee.

Extended and clipped versions of the spot guarantee the message seeps in, whether you’re glued to the entire Big Game or just catching the highlights on Monday morning. Beyond TV, they’re plastering San Francisco with Jurassic-themed Lyft rides, motion-triggered T. rex billboards—imagination meets tech in a sprawling, city-sized playground. There’s theater in the marketing stunt itself; commuters become players in Universal’s ongoing, open-world ARG, even if just for the length of a crosswalk.

There’s something comforting about it all, isn’t there? At a time when “comfort food” has become comfort everything, these orchestrated nostalgia hits remind audiences that, sometimes, the world doesn’t have to throw new terrors at you—sometimes, a familiar roar is enough. The original Jurassic trio’s magnetism hasn’t diminished, despite newer faces lining up for their turn at dino-dodging (with Rebirth, Johansson, and Ali carrying on the torch). There’s always a new chapter lurking, new negotiations brewing as of early 2025, a perpetual promise of not just survival—but reinvention.

Yet for all the spectacle, there’s a subtle recalibration going on—paleo-panic replaced by blissful revelation that yes, even the most fearsome creatures (and franchises) can be rendered docile by a stable internet connection and clever rebranding. It’s not the sort of twist you’d write home about, but it’s the one happening nonetheless.

Come to think of it, this might be the best outcome nostalgia marketing can hope for—a momentary intersection of memory and progress that offers enough satire to keep things light, enough awe to keep folks watching. Waititi knows his way around a balancing act, after all. And in this world, perhaps the last word should belong to Goldblum: life, as always, finds a way—especially when there’s a high-speed connection, a few sly in-jokes, and a city full of grown-up kids still looking up at digital dinosaurs and smiling.

Picture this: Super Bowl night, where the American ritual unfolds with all the subtlety of a confetti cannon. Chips rustle, wings vanish, and somewhere amidst the barrage of commercials, something familiar stirs—a tremor, but not the dinosaur kind. This one’s different. Sam Neill, Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum—yes, that Jurassic trifecta—drift into frame like a chord from John Williams’ score you forgot you needed to hear.It almost feels like a prank at first. There’s the iconic Jeep, rain-slicked, the sort of lighting that screams “Spielberg homage,” and suddenly it’s 1993 all over again—but then the wires show, or, in this case, the Wi-Fi. The pitch? As wild as anything Nedry cooked up: what if Xfinity’s network had been beaming through Isla Nublar all along? Imagine Dennis reduced to a minor IT headache, and Malcolm—ever the philosopher—contemplating probability between sips of poolside lemonade. (It takes a certain panache to drop Goldblum in a scenario where chaos theory mainly governs the router.)Taika Waititi steers the whole affair, sprinkling the same oddball charm he pasted across Thor: Ragnarok and that rabbit-fueled fever dream back in 2019. Goldblum, returning to Waititi’s orbit, drapes his lines in that familiar drawl—the kind you half expect to morph into a lounge-jazz tangent at any moment. Meanwhile, Dern, clad in her Sattler denim, smiles with the unburdened grace of someone not elbow-deep in triceratops droppings for once. Neill’s Grant, often all furrowed brow and fossilized seriousness, now looks ready to stream paleontology webinars between T. rex sightings.Not to gloss over the technical polish. ILM, ever the gold standard, stitches together those CGI dinosaurs and real-world actors so seamlessly you can almost forget you’re being sold something. Williams’ music surges, lending the kind of gravitas usually reserved for lost worlds and colossal gates creaking open—not so much for stable wireless connectivity. But here lies the mischief: rather than simply don the nostalgia for old times’ sake, Waititi and company remix it, turning trauma into trivia, disaster into dino-memes. Sattler’s once-dire “We’re back in business” now cues Wi-Fi, not rampaging carnivores. Makes you wonder if Spielberg foresaw any of this in the days when dial-up was king.Of course, commerce lurks behind every gleaming amber stone. Xfinity, Comcast, NBCUniversal—pick your mega-brand—they’re not shy about the cross-promotional waltz. Brand officers beam about “cultural crossovers” only their conglomerate could conjure. There’s a certain wink there, almost daring the audience to call bluff, but really—who cares when the delivery’s this self-aware? Someone once said nostalgia is the business model of the 2020s, and it would be hard to argue after this kind of spectacle. Especially when you’re promised dino rides through downtown San Francisco or the chance to stumble upon a rogue Universal raptor while heading to coffee.Extended and clipped versions of the spot guarantee the message seeps in, whether you’re glued to the entire Big Game or just catching the highlights on Monday morning. Beyond TV, they’re plastering San Francisco with Jurassic-themed Lyft rides, motion-triggered T. rex billboards—imagination meets tech in a sprawling, city-sized playground. There’s theater in the marketing stunt itself; commuters become players in Universal’s ongoing, open-world ARG, even if just for the length of a crosswalk.There’s something comforting about it all, isn’t there? At a time when “comfort food” has become comfort everything, these orchestrated nostalgia hits remind audiences that, sometimes, the world doesn’t have to throw new terrors at you—sometimes, a familiar roar is enough. The original Jurassic trio’s magnetism hasn’t diminished, despite newer faces lining up for their turn at dino-dodging (with Rebirth, Johansson, and Ali carrying on the torch). There’s always a new chapter lurking, new negotiations brewing as of early 2025, a perpetual promise of not just survival—but reinvention.Yet for all the spectacle, there’s a subtle recalibration going on—paleo-panic replaced by blissful revelation that yes, even the most fearsome creatures (and franchises) can be rendered docile by a stable internet connection and clever rebranding. It’s not the sort of twist you’d write home about, but it’s the one happening nonetheless.Come to think of it, this might be the best outcome nostalgia marketing can hope for—a momentary intersection of memory and progress that offers enough satire to keep things light, enough awe to keep folks watching. Waititi knows his way around a balancing act, after all. And in this world, perhaps the last word should belong to Goldblum: life, as always, finds a way—especially when there’s a high-speed connection, a few sly in-jokes, and a city full of grown-up kids still looking up at digital dinosaurs and smiling.