30 Years of Jurassic Park

 

"Welcome to Jurassic Park."

Yesterday marked the 30th anniversary - what??? - of the theatrical release of Jurassic Park. A tremendous, iconic, deeply original, and seemingly plausible story (thank you, Michael Crichton) transformed into a film (thank you, Steven Spielberg) that captured, and has held, the imaginations of millions. I think you would have been hard-pressed to find a kid in 1993 who wasn't obsessing over the movie. *raises hand* I was six and my brother was five, and we begged our parents to take us. My cousin, 7, went to see it with his family shortly after its release, and my aunt said that he covered his eyes and ears and she had to take him out of the theater. (Sorry, cuz, not trying to drag you.) So my parents went to see it first without us, and decided that, given I'd been eating Tales From the Crypt for breakfast since I was four, a few dino-related deaths were nothing we couldn't handle. They were right, as was proved by the T-Rex named Elvis I toted around for months afterward. 

Genuinely, I was shocked to hear that it's been thirty years. I know it's been a while, that I was under ten when it came out, but I think of it as an "older film" in a nebulous sort of way: Oh, yeah, Jurassic Park came out a few years ago. In 2023, it doesn't oversaturate pop culture in the way the Marvel movies do, but it's still very much a part of the arts culture; is still referenced, is still played on network TV, and still feels current. Some of that's down to the Jurassic World films - which I'll touch on in a bit - but mostly it's because the original has true staying power. 

I find it interesting that Spielberg wound up directing JP after Jaws, because both are classic man vs. nature conflicts. Technology was further along when it came time to bring the dinos to life, versus the mechanical problems that plagued showing the shark in Jaws, but you can still feel the director's touch in not showing us a "living" dino until the very meme-able scene where Alan and Ellie first lay eyes on a Brachiosaurus. In the opening scene, and in my view the most horror-driven and therefore one of the most effective scenes, where the raptor pulls a workman into her cage to his doom, we don't actually see her. We don't see any of them until a good 10-15 minutes into the film, and that suspense is hugely effective in building up audience expectation - an expectation that isn't disappointed because, even 30 years later, the dinos in the film - puppets, animatronics, and CGI - look freaking real. Far, far more realistic than most of today's green screen creations. Puppets, man; never dismiss the importance of puppets in a creature feature. 

Like all man vs. nature stories, man loses. All of man's machinations fall laughably short when up against the galling power of nature. I love that the dinosaurs are not painted as malevolent monsters, because they aren't. They're animals doing what animals do. Every year, dumbasses at Yellowstone get out of their cars to approach bison, elk, or bears; JP is that on a much larger scale, but the same principle applies. Given that they are dinosaurs, and therefore a novelty, it's completely logical that a character like Nedry would be trying to cash in, and thus sets in motion the disaster that follows. 

Crichton's novel goes much deeper into the cellular science of the cloning process, to the point that, as a layman reading it, you walk away from the book feeling like the whole thing's possible. Though it can certainly read as dry in passages for anyone wanting to breeze through a summer blockbuster, his writing is scientific in a way that grounds the story in a very necessary way; because it feels real, we embark on the adventure more readily than if he'd handwaved the impossibilities away. Plot-wise, the novel is bleaker than the film, with Hammond less of a charming grandpa with grand ideas and more of an outright villain. Alan takes an active role in destroying raptor eggs, and Muldoon, the GWH, is less of a buffoon, more of a believable big game hunter, who not only survives, but does so with a compound fracture in his leg and while weilding a rocket-launcher at a T-Rex. I find I prefer the film to the book, vibe-wise, though I do wish Muldoon had been savvier in the movie. Likewise, it wouldn't be a Spielberg movie if the gun didn't jam. *eye roll at that lingering shot on the abandoned, jammed rifle in the face of raptor pursuit* 

30 years later, we're all still quoting this line:

And though technology has advanced in countless ways since its release, the film, to me at least, doesn't feel dated. Its themes, its cautions against playing God, its outcome, all still feel relevant. Because I'm a character girl at heart, I think, ultimately, it's the characters that sell the story, more than anything. No one is an Action Hero cardboard cutout. The kids are likeable. Impeccable casting, each actor making each character distinct and loveable. There are plenty of contemporary action films that have lots of flashy explosions but never succeed in making the characters known to the audience, but that isn't the case here. For instance, we never see Ian outside the park, but just a few lines and we know him. 

This is the part where I want to say that Jurassic Park is one of those "changed my life" stories that influences my work today. And it is...but I couldn't say how. I couldn't draw a direct line from it to anything I've written. So I think I have to say that it's an enduringly beloved story upon which I imprinted in childhood, it's part of my personal canon, and has doubtless been influencing my writing in dozens of little unconscious ways my entire life. 

Thanks for thirty, years, Jurassic Park. Long may you reign. 

I know I said I'd talk about Jurassic World, and I want to, because I love those films, too! But I think I'll bump it until tomorrow - it'll give me something to blog about - so I can shift into writing for the rest of my day's "quiet time." Be on the lookout for that post hopefully tomorrow.