Jurassic Park (1993): Favourite Films Series

Jurassic Park (1993): Favourite Films Series 

There is no such thing as a perfect movie. Obviously every single one of my favourite movies have varying elements that make me want to watch them over and over, plus unique qualities that make them stand out amid the thousands of movies I have seen in my lifetime. None of my favourite movies are perfect, but there is one that stands out in a truly exceptional way, because it appeals to me in a way none of my other favourites do. I am finally going to dive into Jurassic Park, and this is going to be the hardest entry in my Favourite Films Series so far, because articulating why it’s in the very tiny grouping of absolute all-time favourite movies above so many others is a bit of a challenge for me. 

I’m going to try to do this in only 2000 words, but I don't think I will ever be able to tell the full story of what Jurassic Park really means to me. Given that I'm a bigger fan of this movie than any other, though, I hope I can at least share some of my unique insights and say something that hasn't already been said 65 million times.

One of my earliest movie memories is being shown the VHS copy of Jurassic Park. I don’t mean any footage, but the actual physical tape and cardboard sleeve: one of the best-selling VHS releases of all-time. I was no more than 4 years old. The black cover, red, white, and yellow logo, and that massive Tyrannosaurus-rex skeleton, looming in silhouette over a dark jungle. It’s a logo that has become one of the most iconic movie logos of all-time, up there with the likes of Ghostbusters, James Bond, Star Wars, and so many more. Part of the reason it’s so memorable is because of how much you see it not only in merchandising but within the movie itself. The jeeps, computer screens, mugs, hats, shirts, and even the dinner plates sport the logo. You don’t even realize how many times you see it. But from that moment I first laid eyes on the VHS cover, I never forgot it.

I was only five when I saw Jurassic Park for the first time, and oddly enough, my only distinct memory from that first viewing is the first time a dinosaur is shown on-screen, the majestic Brachiosaurus with its tiny head high up in the treetops. Then I heard about the second Jurassic Park, how it had twice as many Tyrannosaurus-rexes, and that first viewing I remember a little more clearly, especially the scenes with the rexes at the trailer and the male T. rex rampaging through San Diego like Godzilla. By the time Jurassic Park III was released in 2001, I was already a humongous Jurassic fan, and my love for the original film grew as I grew up. For a long time, The Lost World: Jurassic Park (A.K.A. Jurassic Park 2) was my favourite. My opinion has since shifted and now cemented, and while I still think Lost World is an underrated sequel, the original is without a doubt the best, and the one I still watch at least once a year without fail.  

In the history of fictional narratives featuring dinosaurs, there is a very clear problem every writer must overcome: dinosaurs and humans are separated by 65 million years of evolution, so putting them together has limited believable story options. Many of the best past examples are fantasy films, which depict cavemen living among dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures, or put humans and dinos together using time travel or other outlandish sci-fi story devices. But the riddle of how to put humans and dinosaurs together in a way that audiences would believe was a tough one to crack, until author Michael Crichton had the brilliant idea of channeling the cutting-edge scientific developments in genetics into a story about scientists who use this technology to resurrect dinosaurs in the modern day for a theme park on a remote island. The concept was fresh, unique, and rife with possibility. His novel was a success, and a film adaptation was inevitable. Who would make it, though? As it turned out, one of the most famous directors in Hollywood. Had Steven Spielberg not been the one to direct this landmark blockbuster, I don’t think it would have ended up becoming a classic.    

Jurassic Park is more than just a dinosaur movie. It’s more than even a science fiction movie, or an adventure movie, or thriller. It manages to be so many things at once. Taking place on an island makes it one of the best island-set movies. The only other two island-as-a-main-setting-movies I can think of that are in the same league are Cast Away and King Kong—the latter of which was clearly a source of inspiration. Dinosaurs on a mysterious island? It makes the line from Ian Malcolm as they approach the giant doors to the theme park “What have they got in there, King Kong?” more than just a funny one-liner. But this isn’t an island filled with monstrosities. The particular approach to these dinosaurs makes Jurassic Park double as a monster movie and even a killer animal movie. The dinosaurs are products of human recreation, so they aren’t natural, they are genetically-engineered, but they aren’t presented as purely monstrous things, they look and act like real animals.

Paleontologists were consulted for the creation and behaviour of these dinosaurs, and even though they don’t actually get that much screen time throughout, they have become some of the most recognizable and convincing prehistoric creatures in cinema. The T. rex was destined to be the star—she was already the most famous of all meat-eating dinosaurs, and had been for decades, ever since the first bones were described. Other favourites like Triceratops and Brachiosaurus were included, and all of them were perfectly designed in every way, from the sounds they made to the tiny details of their scales.

T. rex may have been the star villain, but another antagonistic predatory dinosaur was included, called Velociraptor, and unlike T. rex, this smaller hunter was extremely intelligent. Spielberg liked the name Velociraptor (taken from the source material), but two new discoveries had been made close to the beginning of the film’s production of even bigger raptors with the same deadly features. Deinonychus stood twice as tall as Velociraptor (which only stood a few feet high), and Utahraptor was estimated to be around fifteen feet long. So, Spielberg named his raptor Velociraptor, even though the size and design was based on the larger raptors. I’ve read conflicting information as to which one it was based on, Deinonychus or Utahraptor, but the size of the raptors in the movie makes me think Deinonychus was the true inspiration. Either way, the raptors were also written to be smart enough to problem solve, which far exceeded their real-life cognitive capabilities. This brings me to a small but important point to make on the dinosaur depictions.  

Even at the time it was released, Jurassic Park did not feature dinosaurs that were exactly true to the current science at the time. Dilophosaurus did not spit venom, nor has there ever been any fossil evidence to support that feature. Could T. rex really not see you if you didn’t move? It probably could have seen you no matter what. Its visual acuity being based on movement is highly unlikely. A lot of the behaviour was altered or exaggerated to make for a more exciting movie, but that being said, they still surpassed previous Hollywood dinosaur depictions in terms of realism. Prior, dinosaurs were mainly shown to be lizard-like, monstrous, and mindless. Jurassic had fast-moving, bird-like creatures that moved in herds, pursued their prey with cunning, and were very close to what the fossil record showed in many respects. Their depictions may have since become outdated, but the special effects that brought them to life hold up in few ways that pioneering cinematic visual techniques do.

Let’s think back to King Kong for a second. When that film came out in 1933, it pioneered the use of many visual tricks and effects that already existed, but were still innovative and had yet to be used to their full potential. Stop motion animation brought dinosaurs to life in The Lost World in 1925, but the dinosaurs lacked detail, their movements were jerky, and the film didn’t have sound. King Kong took the effects a step further and pushed the boundary, featuring many dinosaurs, plus Kong himself, who was a full-fledged character with emotion. King Kong remains a classic film, and despite its age, is still remembered as one of the best dinosaur films ever made.

It’s interesting to think Jurassic Park was originally going to use stop motion to bring the full-sized dinosaurs to life, and it wasn’t until after production had started that a new technology was put to use: computer generated imagery. It did for the film industry in 1993 what King Kong’s effects did in 1933—in fact, it was arguably even more influential. Cgi is a staple of moviemaking in the 21^st century and completely changed the way movies were made. Even though the technology existed before Jurassic Park and was pioneered in memorable earlier examples like The Abyss and Terminator 2, Jurassic Park took it to that next level, with fully-realized photorealistic animals.

Jurassic Park manages to be many of my favourite types of movies all at once. It’s a monster movie and a dinosaur movie, and it’s within the genres of science fiction, action, horror, and adventure. It’s also a survival movie, and all of these genres and film types are represented well. It isn’t unsatisfying in any way, to me. The couple aspects that always get targeted the most for criticism are the characters and the lack of development they get, so let’s talk about them, and why anyone who thinks these characters are flat and boring are missing something.

Jurassic Park is all of the types of movies I stated above, and common to all of those types of movies is this: the characters aren’t always that interesting. Horror movies usually have a bunch of characters whose purposes are to be killed off, and the Jurassic Park novel leaned much more into these horror conventions, with gory deaths throughout, but the film was aiming for PG-13, so the number of deaths was reduced and the gorier details avoided. These characters are much more than dino snacks, though. Spielberg was specific in his casting choices because he wanted good, capable actors who weren’t huge stars, and so we got the likes of Sam Neil as Dr. Grant, who is easily the coolest, most likable Paleontologist in any movie, Laura Dern as Ellie Sattler, a Paleobotanist (studies prehistoric plants), an equally likable expert in her field (plus the relationship between the two is subtle and not cliché), and Jeff Goldblum as Ian Malcolm, the now iconic mathematician who makes an incredible impact despite being featured much less in the second half of the film compared to the first half. Instead of being a cookie cutter business tycoon or Walt Disney-esque mastermind, John Hammond is played by the likable Sir Richard Attenborough, and even smaller roles are made memorable thanks to great dialogue delivered by the solid cast. Jurassic Park has great characters, not just for a movie of the genres it finds itself in, but for all genres. 

I’ve talked about a few ways it manages to rise above the usual quality a film of this nature will often achieve, but another major one is the soundtrack by John Williams. Who would have thought after creating some of the most iconic movie scores ever that he would be able to do it yet again, and for his old pal Spielberg once again. He gave us the scary sounds of Jaws, the first major blockbuster and Spielberg’s first major hit, then gave us the awe-inspiring Close Encounters of the Third Kind tracks (also Spielberg), and then the Indiana Jones theme (Spielberg again, notice the trend?), and E.T., among many others, but there is something magical about the Jurassic Park theme that is, to me (and I know most would disagree) his absolute best work, even above all of those mentioned, and including Star Wars. It evokes in me emotions no other soundtrack can. Yet again, this is an example of a film that just would not be the same without these exact pieces of music.

I’m aware that I’m rapidly running out of words, but I’ve managed to cover all major aspects of why Jurassic Park is among my most-favourite films of all-time. In addition to all the praise I’ve given it, it is quintessentially paced, with the first dinosaur showing up exactly twenty minutes in, and the end credits rolling at almost exactly the two-hour mark, it is inspiring (interest in paleontology exploded in the 90’s, and I was among those kids whose heart was set on becoming a paleontologist), and it is truly unique in the way that it still holds so much relevance and power in today’s pop culture landscape. All these sequels later, the original Jurassic Park remains as one of the greatest movies made in the final decade of the 20^th century.  

 

Rear Window (1954): Favourite Films Series

Rear Window (1954): Favourite Films Series 

 

Alfred Hitchcock made so many cinematic classics that I find it unlikely any true cinephile could create a favourite films list and not include at least one. There are many to choose from—Psycho, North by Northwest, The Birds, Rope—but the one most people pick as their favourite is Vertigo, starring Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak. And I get it. It really is an incredible piece of cinema. But it’s not quite my personal favourite. For me, Rear Window (also starring Jimmy Stewart in the lead role) is not only the best Hitchcock film I’ve seen, but one of the most-captivating films I’ve seen in general.

 

Jimmy Stewart’s character Jeff is stuck at home in his small apartment with a broken leg, which happened when he went to dangerous lengths to get a photograph. Bored and sore, he has nothing to do but look out his window and people watch. He uses binoculars to scan from apartment to apartment, and the audience only ever sees the activities of these characters from his perspective. He continues to spy on his neighbours, using both binoculars and the zoom lenses on his camera. It’s a little creepy, but in doing so, he discovers something disturbing. A man next door (Raymond Burr) may be guilty of murder, so Jeff investigates, which at first annoys his girlfriend, played by Grace Kelly, but soon she’s wrapped up in the conspiracy as well. Slowly, they piece together what happened, and things get dicey as the alleged killer catches on to what they are doing.

Despite clocking in at just under two hours long, the story unravels at a great pace and is never bogged down by boring or tedious scenes, largely thanks to Jimmy Stewart’s great acting. He’s a high-energy character but he’s trapped, and that initial frustration comes through loud and clear, but then evolves into curiosity, and then obsession. We at first question this man’s morals as he watches his neighbours go about their lives, but quickly grow to like him and invest ourselves in his mission to bring a possible murderer to justice. The viewer never knows more about the crime than what the characters are able to deduce, so it makes the viewer participate in the story more faithfully and easily—as one character discovers something new, the audience in turn feels one step closer to solving the puzzle.

 

Rear Window isn’t just a mystery film. It’s something of a mystery, a drama, and nearly horror, with many of the best elements of other Hitchcock works. One of the most interesting is the voyeuristic aspect, with Jeff being an anonymous watcher and knowing what these people are up to without them knowing that he knows, which reflects the whole concept of movie-watching: viewers watch people interact on screen without them knowing their stories are being seen. As the tension ramps up and Jeff’s investigation becomes more intensive, the stakes get higher, and towards the end, it verges into horror when Raymond Burr’s character realizes Jeff is onto him and he goes after him, made even scarier because there isn’t much Jeff can do to protect himself being stuck in a wheelchair.

 

Even though Jeff never meets any of his neighbours up close (with the exception of Raymond Burr’s character) the neighbours are all well-developed supporting characters. We only ever see them as Jeff sees them through his camera, so the audience rarely gets to hear what any of these neighbours are saying. We get to see, mostly through physical action, what these people are up to, how they feel, and how they change. Again, the viewer participates with the events in congruence to how Jimmy does within the film. We watch them as he watches them, and figure them out just as he does. Little to no dialogue informs the audience about these side characters, it’s almost purely visual deduction, but it works brilliantly.

 

I think my favourite aspect of Rear Window has to be the setting. It’s a bit like watching a play. It’s as if the courtyard is just one giant set. We never get to see the rest of Jeff’s building, we only see what’s out the window. We can just barely see the street on the opposite side of the apartment complex. Despite this partial view of Jeff’s world, it never gets boring. I love movies with limited scope, because it’s more challenging for the filmmaker to keep it interesting. With one setting, it can get boring if the story isn’t strong or if the directing isn’t sure-handed. This is definitely a case where it works. Jeff’s apartment is bland and boring, but it functions as a non-distracting backdrop so every time we see Jimmy Stewart, we’re focused on him and his reactions to what he sees out the window.

 

To be fair, it isn’t technically one setting. All of the apartments have their own look, plus their own characters and stories going on, but they are presented as all being part of a whole, despite not all influencing each other. But then in moments like when the one neighbour finds her dog dead and screams who did this, it works as a reminder that even though not all these neighbours interact with each other they are all part of a community. It still feels like a set, and I don’t mean that in a negative sense (though it does look like a constructed set on a backlot, which it was in real-life), it feels like a play with these little parts to the set that work independently.

 

Rear Window is a classic suspense thriller that remains gripping to this day. It stands as a testament to the slow-burn method of storytelling, as well as the type of story set in one location, and how it can be so effective when done right.