Jurassic Park is the film that, for many of my generation’s film-lovers, can be identified as the start of their obsession. Unfortunately for this 1992-born film-lover, I didn’t see Jurassic Park until I was twenty-two, and films had already been cemented as something I love. What it did do for me, however, was act as a reminder: I love films.
Thinking back, I owe a lot of my initial interest in films to Spielberg. Between my abiding love for Hook, and the exciting brand of fear that Indiana Jones stirred in me with every childhood viewing, it’s incredible that Jurassic Park never passed through my VHS player.
Thank God it’s aged well. It’s lost none of the original potency that made it the staple movie of so many households. The expert blend of animatronics with the then-fledgling CGI made me giddy like I would have been in 1993. But, I think, I’m glad it’s taken me this long to see it. Pop culture has prepared me for it, without spoiling the magic. I was ready for the nuanced references to “life finds a way” and chaos theory from the very beginning – I know all about the female-female seatbelts and what it means.
It’s like I was watching it not for the first time, but for the fourth or fifth. The moment when you stop enjoying a film for its surface elements, and start digging deeper – it came to me quite quickly in Jurassic Park. It’s damn good film-making. I can’t wait to watch it again.