After nearly 20 years, Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park has returned once again to theaters (this time in 3D), and not only does it still have the same epic adventure feel that other blockbuster movies have nowadays, but also that same magical sense. As the faint hint of John Williams' masterpiece tune began to play I felt a shiver throughout my entire body. I giggled with delight as the first brachiosaurus appeared on screen, and awed as Dr. Hammond stood on that hilltop overseeing several different species of dinosaurs, welcoming his guests to Jurassic Park. My childhood senses had returned to me—no longer did I care that, in reality, the real-life dilophosaurus did not possess a frill neck and the ability to shoot venom, nor did I get upset when one of the children thought of the brilliant idea to shine a bright light into the T-rexes’s face. It all became meaningless to me as I was swept up by the beauty, horror, adventure, and imagination I had felt long ago as a six-year-old watching Jurassic Park for the first time—once more feeling that same old magic as an adult.
When Jurassic Park first released back in June of 1993, critics praised it for its achievements in innovative special effects. The special effects in Jurassic Park are, by far, some of the greatest usages of CGI ever put into a film, and still look amazing even after 20 years of advancement in that department. To understand how impressive this accomplishment is, go watch films from the early 2000s such as Spider-Man or The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (both big budget films). Now don’t get me wrong, I think both movies are great, but their special effects have not aged as well over the course of a decade. Yet add an extra decade to Jurassic Park, a film that came out when CGI was still experimental, and the effects are still spellbindingly realistic. Amazing as they are, Spielberg understood that even with the best CGI you can’t fool the audience forever, and, as such, made the wise decision of combining animatronic dinosaurs with the CGI effects. These models were given much-needed care and development to make them look as lifelike as possible—blending them with the CGI so it becomes hard to tell what is real and what is animated.
As a kid, Jurassic Park was one of the first live-action films I ever saw utilizing CGI (I didn't even know what computer-generated imagery was). I adored dinosaurs as a kid and loved watching films about them (I would watch the silent film The Lost World and fast-forward to its, likewise, groundbreaking dinosaur battle scenes). I recall being overcome with a sense of shock and jaw-dropping awe when Jurassic Park's larger-than-life brachiosaurus appeared on-screen for the first time. Thoughts drove through my head; "How is this possible? How is a real-life dinosaur on screen? Is it possible they actually brought dinosaurs back to life and put them in a zoo?" Six-year-old me didn't see computers, or models, or any of that stuff—he only saw real-life dinosaurs, and it amazed him beyond belief!
The special effects were indeed revolutionary and remain impressive to this day, however, this is the point where many critics stopped their praise. Many felt (and still feel) Jurassic Park was a film of pure eye candy used to show off these effects. The film was criticized for having a lackluster plot and characters, with many critics comparing it to the likes of Jaws (one of Spielberg’s earlier hits) and the original King Kong—saying that Jurassic Park lacked the suspense of Jaws and the humane touch of King Kong (how could such emotionless dinosaurs compare to the pity we feel for King Kong at the end of the film?) In other words, while Jurassic Park was impressive eye candy, it lacked any of the “magic” possessed by these earlier films that make them timeless—leading to many critics predicting it would soon be forgotten.
Yet my generation saw something right off the bat, something I saw, once again, when rewatching the film in theaters. I believe many critics went into Jurassic Park expecting a story similar to what had come before (Jaws, King Kong, etc…) but with CGI instead of something new and unique—something that many youngsters, newbies to cinema, were able to see with fresh new eyes. If only I could see into Spielberg’s mind back in 1993, a man who also possessed a childlike mind (using it to create films such as Close Encounters and Raiders of the Lost Ark) and already had children of his own. I suspect that Spielberg did indeed have the newer generation of children and teens in mind when he created Jurassic Park. This, however, was not because he was aiming at making a children's film, but instead a film about children—or, more accurately, about a child’s mind.
From the very beginning, the adult world realities and problems are separated from the island Isla Nublar and its titled park. Throughout the first part of the film, we get scenes that jump from place to place. We see the park’s lawyer going to discuss business arrangements due to a death. We see various outdoor activities going on such as people dealing with financial issues, corruption, competitive companies, jobs and other such events that make up the grownup world. There are, however, characters that seem to reject these adult realities such as our main character Dr. Grant (Sam Neill) who has the privilege to work as a paleontologist—a lifestyle that allows him to live out many a childhood dream such as working in the dirt, digging up dinosaur fossils, and making new discoveries. Dr. Grant’s excitement and wonder over these extinct creatures are shown when he scares a young boy by describing how a raptor would cut him up (showing his refusal to grow up, especially when it comes to taking care of children). Yet he is still burdened with adult problems including finding funding for his excavation, being pushed aside by advancing technology that does the work for him, and being with his girlfriend Dr. Sattler (Laura Dern, who is pushing him to move their relationship to the next level).
Yet, like a dream come true, his investor at the time Dr. Hammond (Richard Attenborough) makes an offer to pay in full several years for Grant’s excavation if he only comes to check out his “park”. Dr. Grant has found a way to keep living his dream and suddenly, as if by a wave of a magic wand, all the adult realities begin to disappear as Hammond points out the helicopter window and exclaims “There it is!” Suddenly the music goes from its original serious tone to that of being adventurous as the crew are brought to Isla Nublar and the audience gets a view of the huge, majestic island with its enormous forests, mountain ranges and a waterfall right next to the landing platform. Grant, who at this point is still focused on his job, looks up from his jeep and sees his first live brachiosaurus—causing all his adult issues too, for the time being, melt away and rapidly switch to an envelopment of childlike senses, wonder, and excitement. In fact, all the guests become filled with this sense of wonder and excitement with the exception of Hammond’s lawyer who sees this as a great investment opportunity to get rich. It’s important to note that every human on Jurassic Park who keep their adult minds active, such as the lawyer, the game poacher, the technical engineer and the greedy architect, get eaten by the end (Jeff Goldblum’s character is filled with wonder but also worries about the scientific consequences of it all, and, as such, only gets wounded).
The wonder and excitement that embodies Jurassic Park are often overlooked by critics, who instead focus on its horror and adventure aspects. Indeed, the film is filled with moments that could cause both children and adults alike to jump out of their chairs in fear, not to mention heart-pounding scenes of adrenaline and adventure (my heart races when the Tyrannosaurus Rex chases after the moving vehicle, or when Dr. Grant and the children are climbing over an electric fence as it’s about to come back on). Jurassic Park contains horror and adventure in addition to a sense of beauty—all put together in one perfectly even combination that embodies a child’s mind.
When I was young, the reason I was obsessed and in love with dinosaurs was due to how unknown they were to me. These were creatures that died off millions of years ago, creatures I had no chance of meeting in real life, creatures that were entirely unknown and immensely captivating as a result. There was a fascinating sense of mystery to these creatures, a wonder of what they were like, of their features, their looks, and their abilities. Some of these beings were of enormous size and height, towering over you like a moving skyscraper, while others had claws, talons, and gaping rows of sharp teeth. Dinosaurs simultaneously fascinated and terrified me at the same time, and there was nothing more I wanted to be as a kid than a paleontologist—looking at dinosaur bones, making new discoveries and finding exotic fossils.
Spielberg understood such mindset and created a rarity of a film where the horrors and beauties of these creatures were equally shown and played off perfectly. Additionally, Spielberg plays on the curiosities I had. Take, for example, the scene where the characters go down to look at a sick triceratops. Pacing-wise, the scene serves no major purpose for the plot other than to remove Dr. Sattler from the main group—it does, however, showcase Dr. Sattler's wonder as she beams with excitement listening to the triceratops’s heartbeat while lightly petting it. Child-me, heck, adult-me would have loved the opportunity to look at and touch a creature of such magnificence. In another scene, Dr. Grant and the kids have an encounter with a brachiosaurus herd after sleeping in a tree. The herbivores neither attack nor cause any harm to them (as the brontosauruses do in the original King Kong), instead peacefully grazing similar to giant mammals (Dr. Grant even refers to them as large cows)—allowing both him and the children to pet these majestic beasts. These scenes play on the "what ifs" children may have if the dinosaurs still existed, while, likewise, serving as pleasant enjoyments to admire and delight over.
Jurassic Park is not just for kids, however, and just as the island allows the grownup characters to become kids again, so does the film allow its adult audiences to relive their childhoods once more. And I don’t simply mean nostalgic adults, but also for first-time adult viewers, who can relive something they were never supposed to relive—just as the film characters experience something they were never supposed to experience. Spielberg and Dr. Hammond are similar, in fact, as both have a childlike sense of excitement and wonder, are both creators of some spectacular creation, and both want to let others come relive their childhood through something that is “more” than just tricks and illusions (Hammond created real dinosaurs, Spielberg did the next best thing). And despite Spielberg’s movie being deep-down an illusion, he makes sure to create one that is quite difficult to dispel.
By the end of the film, all the remaining characters rush onto the helicopter to leave Jurassic Park. Hammond pauses before boarding to take one final look at his creation—a place of adventure, fantasy, and horror—that leaves him sad for having to abandon. As the helicopter flies away the magic is left behind, forcing the grownups to come back to reality. Dr. Grant has relived his childhood once more and shows signs that he’s ready to grow up (possibly taking the next step in his relationship). As the closing credits begin and the soft tune of the main theme plays, the audience too has to leave such magical fantasy and come out of the dark theater, returning to reality.
The actual park in the title Jurassic Park completely represents a child’s mind and imagination. Everything that happens on the island can be seen as the dreams and nightmares children have, with the added effects and music being Spielberg trying to make such visions as close to real as possible—taking a childhood mindset and making it accessible to all. Critics who overlook Jurassic Park fail to see its true realization—that it’s not just for children going through adolescence, but also adults that lived through it. Unlike childhood, however, the film has the ability to be revisited again, and again, and again. That is the true magic of Jurassic Park, the magic to relive the childlike embodiment of wonder, awe, fantasy, adventure, fear, joy, innocence, nightmares, and dreams. The film can be summed up best by what Sam Spade says in The Maltese Falcon; “The stuff that dreams are made of.”
