“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” Scientific innovation is a significant subject of interest both behind the scenes and within the narrative of Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park (1992), with the former being the pioneering CGI of the dinosaurs and the latter regarding bringing these fossils back to life. As a blockbuster, the film employs its dinosaurs for much of the spectacle, from their presence to the fear of their actions and the special effects and stylistic choices during scenes featuring them—namely the suggested threat. At the same time, it follows the traditional science-fiction discourses regarding nature and technology, with characters themselves debating the destructive power of nature and technology and the latter’s shortcomings. However, the film stops short of entirely antagonising the dinosaurs and computers, instead placing the fault into the hands of human hubris in characters such as Dr Hammond (Richard Attenborough), who foolishly attempts to control forces he does not understand and puts his grandchildren in danger. Therefore, while through spectacle and the discourse of nature versus technology, Jurassic Park follows the values prevalent in Hollywood blockbuster and science-fiction films, it ultimately frames man’s hubris as the monster rather than the dinosaurs by depicting human misuse of nature and technology and threatening the nuclear family.

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Blockbusters indicate Hollywood’s “tamed” return to what film theorist Tom Gunning termed the cinema of attractions (Baird 99). Jurassic Park, thanks to the technological innovations in visual effects achieved by Industrial Light and Magic to bring the dinosaurs truly to life, is an excellent example of this. Gunning states that the pre-1906 cinema of attractions were less films to tell stories but rather to directly engage the spectator and inspire excitement—to show off the new technologies of cinema that were allowing these spectacular images. This idea, along with a narrative, would serve as the primary attraction to the cinema for the audiences of 1992, promised throughout much promotion by Spielberg and others that real dinosaurs would be gracing their screens for the first time (Baird 91). The film’s opening sets up grandiosity and amazement in a fashion that dictates much of the frightening scenes later. As we face rustling bushes at eye-level with the park’s workers, as if witnessing it among them, we anticipate the terrifying appearance of a dinosaur. Even with no dialogue or introductory title card, the audience is hooked into the film’s diegesis because of the codes of the “suspenseful scene” already conditioned into us by other horror/blockbuster films (Baird 92). The camera’s stillness, slow-paced shots (distinctly at eye-level), ominous music, and character expressions thus put us in place with the characters, feeling the tension they feel. Though this suspense ends in a semi-anti climax as a crate is revealed (the audience is, of course, still curious about the crate), Spielberg here introduces one of his key “characters”: the suggested/off-screen threat. The suggested threat appears again once the scene escalates: the audience never sees the Velociraptor inside the crate but is equally terrified through the film’s use of sound and the characters’ reactions to the attack. One significantly terrifying shot is the Velociraptor’s point-of-view shot—inside a black, enclosed space, we briefly feel as if we are stuck inside with the creature. The effect created by this visual absence of the Raptor is an evocation of spectators’ imagination; like the imagination of one sitting in fear in the dark, the inability to see the Raptor stokes fear and anticipation through imagination. This anticipation is then teased further during the tour, during which the audience views the velociraptors feeding but again does not see the creatures. At this point, the audience (and characters) have only witnessed Brachiosauruses, i.e. “harmless” herbivores, thus setting up a more considerable shock for the appearance of the carnivorous T-Rex and velociraptors. 

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Still, the fact that spectators directly witness two species of dinosaurs in harmless states before being introduced to the T-Rex is significant in another way: to reinforce the intention of the creatures being animals rather than monsters. Though the blockbuster certainly tributes to the cinema of attractions, it still follows the codes of the classical Hollywood narrative. It thus requires a seamless narrative—which would paradoxically demand realism in spectacular images to prevent a narrative break (King 42). Indeed, the effect, be it fear or wonder, of the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park would be lost if they were overtly animated or robotic, pulling the audience out of the narrative. One form of realism that Jurassic Park borrows is that of documentary film, itself derived from the cinema of attractions (Baird 92). As the characters arrive, the aerial shots of Isla Nublar show off the island in reminiscence of travelogues, while John Williams’ theme score evokes a sense of wonder.

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Furthermore, shots of the Brachiosauruses as the group watches them act as a nature documentary, as we witness these animals uninterrupted in their “habitat.” This introductory scene to the park almost juxtaposes the opening scene. Rather than a dark, misty night, it is a bright and calm day. Dr Grant (Sam Neill) notices something off-screen, his awe growing as the camera zooms to a close-up of his face. Dramatically, he takes off his sunglasses. He turns Dr Sattler’s (Laura Dern) head without looking away, and the latter is taken with shock. Like with the workers in the opening, the audience anticipates what the characters are seeing, yet this time the tone is of awe. As the characters finally watch the dinosaurs, Williams’ score is at its peak, and shot/reverse-shot patterns with eye-line matches again put us with the characters. King notes how the crossing of the 180-degree line in this scene puts both audiences and characters into a “spectacular new vision of the world” (King 44). The audience’s subsequent two encounters with dinosaurs view them in innocent light. First, as a baby Velociraptor hatches, stimulating the same protective and heartwarming response one would generally feel seeing a puppy or a human baby. The second is with the sick triceratops, its helpless state, and Dr Sattler’s reaction to it once again invoking fascination and empathy over the fear provoked in the film’s opening. This is the first time the audience can closely marvel at the realism of the dinosaurs, certainly in awe at this CG image’s natural breathing and realistic skin textures. The realism of the dinosaurs is a credit to the innovation of ILM; as Prince discusses, the paradox of realism in CGI is that images such as dinosaurs have no referent to our reality—though they did exist once, they are fictional now as moving images (Prince 32). ILM’s intelligence in studying animals to create their own CGI “animals” is thus significant, as is their detailed and pioneering use of lighting, texture-mapping, skin wrinkles, and other special effects to achieve photorealism: a synthetic realism that looks just like our reality. This allows the film, along with the dinosaurs, to enable visual cues that allow seamless spectator engagement. As a result, these scenes reinforce the thought of the dinosaurs as animals before the audience ever witnesses the wilder ones, thus reminding us throughout the film that, as Dr Grant says, “they just do what they do” and are not the antagonists of the film.

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Considering that the genetically reproduced dinosaurs of the park are both a product of nature and technology, does the film then offer an antagonistic view of modernity (which perpetuates progress and technology) in the dinosaurs’ dominance and also the computer-dependent park’s inability to contain them? Dinosaurs slashing through electrical fences, breaking through walls, and especially the ending of the film with the T-Rex roaring dominantly over the ruins of the park’s centre could perhaps imply that the film favours nature over technology. However, dinosaurs are not the only force of nature that gets in the characters’ way, as the storm also adds to many problems and hinders the park’s computer system. Technology is rendered inferior to nature’s relentlessness as, at the same time, Nedry’s (Wayne Knight) single and simple sabotage of the park’s security system lets chaos break. Furthermore, throughout the film, there is an ongoing debate on the ethics of having brought the dinosaurs back from the dead, with Dr Malcom (Jeff Goldblum) repeatedly expressing his thoughts against it—the philosophical nature of which seems to make the film favour his position as the audience is compelled to pay closer attention to the “wackiness” of it over casual dialogue. The conductor of this technology, like the scientists of other science fiction films, is Dr Henry Wu (B.D. Wong), whose modernist faith in his ability to control natural systems comes out in his overconfident dialogue in the lab scene regarding the dinosaurs’ sex (King 82), only to be proven wrong as the audience, along with Dr Grant and the children, discover “unauthorised” eggs on the island.

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Nevertheless, while the anxieties regarding technology and modernity prevalent in science-fiction films are addressed in Jurassic Park, particularly those regarding biotechnology, technology is not entirely condemned (King 86). Despite their concern for disrupting the natural world order, the moral characters of Dr Grant, Dr Sattler, and Dr Malcolm are nonetheless impressed by the scientific feat they witness. On top of that, the film concludes by reaffirming technology to an extent, as Lex (Ariana Richards), a person of the new generation who would be a future catalyst for modernity, is able to use her computer-hacking abilities to restore the park’s system and the group escapes via helicopter. Therefore, if the film (following what Dr Malcolm explains as chaos theory) depicts nature as nothing more than a powerful, random being while not entirely condemning science, what does it present as the most antagonistic force?

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As the wielders of science and discovery and their arrogance over nature, Jurassic Park condemns not humans but human hubris. Dr Malcolm drives this rhetoric, followed by Drs Grant and Sattler, who repeatedly argue about ethics versus discovery with the park’s arrogant owner, Dr Hammond (Richard Attenborough). Though the film insists on audience empathy toward the dinosaurs, understanding their behaviour as their nature, they still function as a threatening force. The pattern of death scenes of notable characters seems formulaic. The icons of the disgruntled, treacherous employee (Nedry) and the greedy lawyer (Gennaro) are the first to be swiftly killed. As the former disrespects nature, technology, and humanity through his sabotage, and both characters turn to capital greed, their deaths are comical, sparing no question about the film’s condemnation of hubris (Smith 96). Next are Muldoon (Bob Peck) and Arnold (Samuel L. Jackson); the former, though from his first appearance expresses his animosity towards the Velociraptors, has a degree of respect for their skills (evident in his final line, “clever girl”). At the same time, the latter’s nonchalant demeanour and stress about the computer system and his refusal to shut it down suggest a degree of mistrust in technology. As sceptics, but not entirely as proud and materialistic as the previous two characters, their deaths are not comedic but add to the shock value of the blockbuster.

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Furthermore, the shift from the icon of the mad scientist in science fiction to the arrogant corporate figure is prevalent in Hammond (Smith 89), indicating a societal shift from mistrust in science and technology to mistrust in corporations--i.e., wealthy, selfish, powerful humans. Hammond, though different from the generic haughty corporate figure in his bubbly, Disney father-like demeanour, is not shy about his arrogance, as shown by his repeated blind faith in the functionality of the park and his refusal to accept the fact that he has done something unethical. As mentioned before, Dr Malcolm acts as the voice of reason in the film; thus, from the very beginning, his arguments with Hammond foreshadow the park’s destruction and Hammond’s fault in it. Indeed, Hammond loses his park, investments, and nearly his grandchildren due to his arrogance. Yet, incorporating children into the story reels the film, and Hammond’s character in particular, back to the nostalgic feature of blockbusters. The film raises the stakes for audiences by placing children, symbols of innocence, in the same danger as the adults (Smith 94). This position of danger cues us to relate to Hammond once he finally expresses remorse during the cafeteria scene, which is beautifully accentuated by Williams’ gentle score, soft light and shadows, and an idea of the park that “could have been” through the decor and merchandise available in the room. Hammond seems no longer an arrogant man but an overexcited child as he reminisces about his childhood. It is an incredibly calming scene amidst the film’s chaos; yet again, Hammond’s blindness to his hubris arises when we realise he has learned the wrong lesson: he blames the failure on their dependence on computers. Though the scene succeeds in redeeming Hammond’s character to an extent, it ultimately reinforces the dangerous power of hubris as audiences are surprised by Hammond’s failure to realise it. That is not to say the film does not reinforce the nuclear American family, as seen in many blockbusters (King 61). This reinforcement is drawn through the pseudo-family of Drs Grant and Sattler and the children. In Spielbergian fashion, Dr Grant’s character arc is of a redeemed father who goes from disliking children (established in his first appearance) to being nestled with Lex and Tim (Joe Mazzello) in a helicopter. It is thus essential that this trio has been put together through most of the film—and especially by Dr Sattler, whose assignment of Lex with Dr Grant implies a desire for children—as the dangers they face force “family” bonding between them. Dr Grant is, therefore, the traditional science-fiction hero, an ordinary man with everyday problems (Smith 91). Therefore, Jurassic Park’s conclusion condemns hubris and places the family at the heart of “good” humanity by illustrating how the products of arrogance place the nuclear family in danger.

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Thirty years after its release, Jurassic Park stands out as a marvel of cinema that even the following four films in the franchise have been unable to replicate. It follows the values of the traditional blockbuster science-fiction cinema, with high-budget special effects, dramatic scores and scenery, and images of spectacle that are reminiscent of the cinema of attractions. The biggest attraction is the presence of the dinosaurs, creatures almost mythical to us now brought to life gloriously through the innovations in animation and technology by Industrial Light and Magic. Like the traditional blockbuster, the dinosaurs add to moments of suspense and horror, heightened stylistically through Spielberg’s use of eye-line matches, POV-shots, and suggested presences that immerse audiences into the film’s diegesis. Crucial to this are also the animal studies, animation, lighting, mechanic, and texture techniques that would achieve photorealistic dinosaurs, preventing any retreat from the narrative brought on by plastic-looking creatures. Overall, these features present these dinosaurs as animals who behave simply out of instinct rather than malicious monsters. At the same time, while the film displays the several shortcomings of technology as well as its destructive power (as the dinosaurs are products of science) as with traditional science-fiction, it ultimately expresses the necessities of certain technologies--such as the computer and helicopter in the end--as they are at this point vital to human life. Thus, the film antagonises human hubris. Nature is an unpredictable universal force, while science is the study of the universe around us, including nature. In Jurassic Park, humans decided to attempt to control nature and simultaneously manipulate (and be over-dependent on) technology through the arrogance of Hammond and Dr Wu. With humans being no match for these universal powers, their foolishness is their downfall--which is emphasised further by the film’s use of children and putting the nuclear family headed by the traditional science-fiction hero in danger.