"It always starts this way," mutters Dr. Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) darkly, as his companions ooh and ahh at the sight of real live dinosaurs. "Then comes the running and the screaming." And if there's one thing to be said for the sequel to JURASSIC PARK it's that we get right to the running and the screaming. Of course there's another island, and of course nature has found a way around that pesky inbred lycine deficiency that was supposed to ground the genetically engineered dinosaurs after a week, and of course there's an expedition to see how they're doing that goes terribly, terribly wrong. There are many more dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes, and most of the narrative effort is channeled into getting the cast into the proper place from which to be plucked by one scaly set of jaws or another. To that end, seasoned hunters must venture far, far from the group to urinate, and brilliant scientists must explain that the Tyrannosaurus Rex can pick up a scent 10 miles away, then traipse through the jungle in clothing saturated with blood. "That is the worst idea ever in the sorry history of bad ideas," Malcolm says only once, but the sentiment hangs over many plot developments -- not the least of them the plan to take a very large prehistoric predator to San Diego. Didn't any of these guys see KING KONG? But no matter. This summer's blockbuster to beat is beach reading for the big screen, and why should it be otherwise?