Evan awoke on January 1st, 2020 filled with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Another year had arrived, and with it came the opportunity to begin anew. Like a snake shedding its skin, Evan could shrug off the trappings of the past and venture out into the world reborn, but with the advantage of experience. This year, this decade, would be different. He would write more. He would finally devote the time and energy required to improve his abilities as a musician. Hell, he might even get a job. First, though, he would introduce himself to this new era in the only way he knew how: by taking a walk to the park.
It was a little chilly, but, like always, his body warmed itself after only a few minutes. It looked like it might rain, but fortunately, it did not. He was in no rush, so it took him a little longer than usual to make it to the park. He happened upon several fellow travelers who, like him, had decided to jump-start a more healthy lifestyle. Many of these people would falter, and eventually fail, but for the time being, the future was available to them. It looked gloriously enticing, yet believable enough that the prospect of attainability was not a laughable one. When they saw Evan, they welcomed him with knowing smiles, unspoken acknowledgments that they recognized in him the same inexplicable vigor they felt. Tomorrow, they might be adversaries (or worse, complete strangers), but today they were his silent accomplices.
The park was unusually crowded today, and Evan smiled and waved at the many people as he walked past. He felt good. Alive. Energetic. Content.
Then he heard, from the periphery of his consciousness, a voice, calling his name.
“Evvvaannnn….”
Evan stopped and looked around him. He didn’t see anybody he recognized, but he knew a lot of people, and it was possible some forgotten figure from his past had converged upon him after many years, like a character in a Charles Dickens novel. It had happened before.
“Evvvaannnn…. Come to the waaattterrr.”
The water? Evan thought. What the hell did that mean?
“The creeeekkk, iiidiooot,” the voice said.
Oh, yeah, the creek. Duh. Evan walked down the little hill on the other side of the playground until he came to the creek, nestled inside what passed for woods, this deep in the suburbs. There was no one else around, but he felt inside him a sense of belonging, like he was exactly where he needed to be. He looked down into the water, not quite full enough to catch his own reflection, but active enough that the current allowed for the minimal light to dance over the rocks. He saw, for only an instant, what looked like an eye, larger and more vibrant than his own, staring up at him. Startled, he stood up and turned around.
Standing behind him, where the creek bed met the hill, was the figure of a man, over six and a half feet tall, long, spindly limbs extruding from his body as if constantly posed, and a single, reflective camera lens where his face should have been.
“Hey, what’s up?” the figure asked.
“Um, not much. What’s…uh, up with you?” Evan responded.
“Oh, you know, same shit, different year.”
“Right on, man. What the fuck are you?”
“My name is Kinobrax. I am a demon.”
“Oh, okay. Am I about to die?”
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Cool,” Evan said. “What’s going on, right now?”
“Evan, you have been chosen for a most arduous task.”
“What kinda task?”
Instead of answering, Kinobrax stepped closer, until Evan could see his own face inside the demon’s lens. “You studied the human art of the cinema, did you not?”
“What, you mean did I go to film school? Yeah, I did. With a minor in music,” Evan said.
“Has this decision benefited you in any tangible way?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, was it a mistake?”
“Oh, I don’t know, man,” Evan said. “I try not to think of it on those terms.”
“That’s a yes.”
“Look, whatever. You said you had a task for me?”
“That’s right,” Kinobrax said. The aperture in his giant lens eye contracted quickly. “More like an opportunity to realize your full potential. It will be very difficult, and failure (were that an option) would be devastating.”
Evan gave the demon an incredulous look. “That sounds more like a curse, than an opportunity.”
Kinobrax sighed. “Well, if you’re gonna be splitting hairs, yes, it is a curse. You have been tasked with watching, summarizing, and reviewing every movie ever made. You will not be able to die until this ordeal is complete.”
“Hey, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Evan said.
“You say that now, but wait about fifty years, when your friends begin to transition from this cosmic sphere to the next. You will be forced to watch them all die, one by one, while you will remain as you are now, except more alone with each passing day, with only the secondhand companionship of film characters to keep you tethered to the outside world. As you delve deeper and deeper into this existential abyss, your understanding of human society will become cheapened, a pathetic, living reflection of countless fictional, dumbed-down philosophies. Without nuance. A dial with only two settings: antagonist and protagonist.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. You will begin today.”
“Okay. How often do I have to, uh, turn one in?”
“That is for you to decide. You will be unable to rest until the task is complete.”
“So, whenever I get around to it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Okay, cool. What movie should I start with?”
“Again, that is your choice.”
“I know, but, like, give me an idea.”
“Look, man,” Kinobrax said, “we’re talking about every movie ever, here. Just pick one. Literally any movie.”
“I can’t think of one,” Evan said.
“Really? You can’t think of a single movie?”
“I mean, I can, but, like, not one that I wanna review.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Whatever. 'Jurassic Park.'”
“Hey! Good Idea! I love that movie. When I was a kid, I--”
“I don’t care.” With another click of his lens, Kinobrax was gone.
Evan returned home and watched "Jurassic Park."
Hey, it’s me, Evan. That was crazy, right? Anyway, you heard the demon. I guess I don’t have a choice. So here it is: my summary and review of the 1993 Steven Spielberg film "Jurassic Park."
I actually do love this movie. At a conservative estimate, I’ve probably seen it fifty times. It was one of the films that as a child I would have playing on repeat all weekend, like some deranged television station with very specific programming. But today, as I was watching it again, I realized something. My love of this movie is exactly the same today as it was when I was a child. That might sound wonderfully whimsical, but it’s actually somewhat troubling, as it has made me question my abilities to analyze it objectively. Because there are many things in "Jurassic Park" that a child will not notice, things such as continuity errors and preposterous leaps in judgment that, to some degree, rely upon the viewer’s naivete in order to be accepted.
Today, I found myself less willing to allow such transgressions. This movie is a masterclass in using cinematic techniques to distract your attention from what, in the hands of a lesser filmmaker, would be unforgivable foibles. From bizarre body placement from one shot to the next, to more blatant crimes like the random re-configuring of the park’s geography, there are plenty of examples to pull from.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.
The film opens in what appears to be the jungle, where a bunch of dudes wearing jumpsuits and hard-hats are awaiting the arrival of a big cage-like shipping container. It turns out that this container holds a velociraptor, one of the dopest dinosaurs known to man, and one of this film’s primary enemies. The dudes are there to transfer the raptor from the container to a holding cell of some kind. Their boss, an Australian guy by the name of Muldoon, directs the workers, all while standing ready with his gun, in case shit goes down. I was seven years old when this movie came out. I think it was probably the first PG-13 movie I saw in theaters, and ever since that day, I have been unable to determine if Muldoon is a badass because of, or despite, his attire. This man looks like an unreliable police sketch of Crocodile Dundee. Short shorts showing off his quads, thick wool socks, hiking boots, a khaki vest, and the piece de resistance, the safari hat with one side of the brim attached to the crown. He’s a man you hire when you need to keep a handle on a bunch of dinosaurs, so he can wear what he wants, I guess, but I don’t know if that outfit (which he wears for the entire movie) is actually functional in such a situation, or if I have been gaslighted into thinking it is. This might be the first instance of Spielberg making the viewer accept what he wants them to. These clothes makes sense because I fucking say they do, asshole. And, hey, who am I to disagree? I had to capture a possum that had gotten into my house once, and it played like an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos.
The raptor kills a guy, because of course it does, and we move on. After some brief exposition about an impending lawsuit and the need for some experts to approve of the place where presumably there are many more dinosaurs, we meet our main heroes: Drs. Grant and Sattler, world-famous paleontologist and paleobotanist, respectively, at their dig site in Montana. While explaining the anatomy of a velociraptor to what I assume is a group of other paleontologists who have got to already know everything he’s saying, Dr. Grant is interrupted by this bratty little kid, who says that he does not find the creature scary. “More like a six-foot turkey,” he says, as if that alone is not one of the most unsettling images the human brain is capable of conjuring. Well, Dr. Grant ain’t having none of this. He very casually informs this child that this “six-foot turkey” will gather two of its friends and slash open his belly, spilling his intestines, and then eat him while he is still alive. A couple questions here: where are this child’s parents? The proper response to his remarks would have been for one or both of them to say, “Tommy, stop being obnoxious,” not to allow their boss to instill in him mortal terror. Why is this kid even there, if he has no interest in velociraptors, which, as I stated earlier, were dope as fuck? My main problem with the character is the same as when I was a kid, which is to question what kind of lame-ass bozo doesn’t think that a giant knife-footed bird creature is just, like, ridiculously sweet.
Anyway, satisfied after having put a child in his place, Dr. Grant walks with Dr. Sattler up a hill, which they do only to show that the helicopter that is now arriving at the dig site is causing all kinds of problems. While the scientists struggle to cover the science stuff with tarps, this helicopter’s passenger, the white-suited John Hammond, seemingly teleports into the RV that acts as the site’s home base. He is an old man with a cane, yet no one saw him get out of the helicopter and hobble the considerable distance across desert terrain. Given the short amount of time that has passed, Hammond would have had to sprint there like Usain Bolt, but when we meet him, he gives no indication that he has done this. He instead explains to an understandably upset Grant and Sattler that he would like them to come to his island in Costa Rica for the weekend. In exchange, he will fully fund their dig for the next three years. They agree, even though this seems like some “Indecent Proposal” type of shit. Grant asks what kind of place Hammond has set up on this island, and Hammond replies, “It’s right up your alley.”
What follows is a scene that has haunted me for almost twenty-seven years. It is equal parts effective storytelling and surreal characterization. This is when we meet Dr. Ian Malcolm, rockstar mathematician (chaotician, chaotician). He says to Dr. Grant, “So you guys, uh, dig up dinosaurs?” to which Dr. Grant, with a coquettish tilt of his head and squint of his eyes, says, in a voice sultry enough to make Mae West blush, “Try to.” Dr. Malcolm then unleashes a noise which is half laugh/half come-hither cat purr. The sexual tension between these two is palpable, and I can’t imagine this was what Spielberg had been going for. Now, don’t get me wrong. If this was a movie about two grown men discovering their burgeoning homosexuality amidst a dino-crisis, I would be there for it. Broke-Brach Mountain. Brilliant. But that is not what this film is about. I can understand Malcolm’s reaction, to a degree. He’s the sexy guy, after all. I mean, he’s played by fucking Jeff Goldblum, for Pete’s sake. He proceeds to hit on Dr. Sattler in front of everyone, so we can write his part off as a dude who is always out to make any situation spicier. But Grant’s “Try to” has always puzzled me, even before I was old enough to put into words what I was seeing. Seriously. I think about this exchange far more frequently than one would consider healthy. It is just utterly confusing, but the film does not give us enough time to consider it.
They then land the helicopter they came in on. Grant, in an impressive piece of foreshadowing, has to “find a way” to use two female ends of a seat-belt to secure himself during the bumpy ride through the jungle. Then comes another rather confusing scene. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t understand the mindsets of any of the characters in this film, because I can’t see a reason for our protagonists to behave the way they do now. This is where the three scientists finally learn the truth of Jurassic Park: Hammond has discovered a way to create real, living dinosaurs. The Jeep they’re riding in gets really close to a brachiosaurus before Dr. Grant sees it. What was he looking at, that they were able to just happen upon such a creature? Was he just looking down, twiddling his thumbs for the entire ride? Also, Dr. Sattler is late to the dino-party, because she is studying a huge leaf which she claims has come from an extinct plant. Where did she get that leaf? They went straight from the helicopter to the Jeep, and unless they cut out a quick pruning session, there is no explanation as to how she got her hands on it. Once they see the dinosaur, they are stunned. Understandable, sure. But…wait a minute. Did you really not know what was going on at Jurassic Park? Did Hammond not tell you anything? Did you just fly from Montana to Costa Rica thinking you were going to, like, a museum, or something? Did you ask anybody about the park, and they refused to tell you, or what? Maybe if you had spent the helicopter ride asking questions instead of flirting, you would have been better prepared. I get that seeing a fucking brachiosaurus would be overwhelming, regardless of any forewarning, but Grant specifically says that he had no idea there would be dinosaurs here. Again, he’s lucky this isn’t some David Copperfield-style sex island, where he will have to degrade himself in exchange for funding, because he and Sattler are remarkably trusting. Dr. Malcolm does seem to have been informed beforehand, however, because his reaction is little more than, “hey, how about that?”
They go inside the visitor’s center, where Dr. Grant says that it looks like he and Sattler are out of a job. Malcolm makes the hilarious joke, “don’t you mean extinct?” and we are supposed to go to the next scene. But I couldn’t. There was something picking at me here, and I had to pause the film so I could capture exactly what it was. It took me a minute, but I finally realized it. Grant is correct in assuming that people won’t need to dig up dinosaur bones in a world where you could just make your own dinosaurs. It would be like going to the dump looking for a bunch of broken first generation iPads. But Hammond had used the prospect of a further three years of funded dinosaur bone-digging as the bait to get Grant and Sattler to the island. Did he knowingly promise them the money under false pretenses, or has everyone forgotten about it? We never hear about it again, and I guess in the end the previous arrangement still stands, but it seems like someone would bring it up about now.
Anyway, they go on a ride where a cartoon DNA strand explains the questionable science apparently responsible for the dinosaurs, Dr. Malcolm gets in a little tiff with BD Wong about how you can’t possibly control the forces of biology, our protagonists meet Muldoon, who says that all the dinosaurs should be destroyed, and then they go back to the visitor’s center to ignore their plates of Chilean sea bass while they gang up on John Hammond and tell him how much of an arrogant jabroni he’s being. They’re right, of course, and Hammond is pissed, until he gets a message informing him that his grandchildren have arrived.
In the lobby of the visitor’s center, we meet Lex and Tim, the plucky brother-sister duo. The camera cuts to Dr. Grant, and the implication is that he is not comfortable with them being there simply because of his previously-established distaste for children. But isn’t it just as likely that he is the only one among them who thinks it is a bad idea to bring two kids to an incomplete dinosaur zoo? I mean, the entire purpose for this visit is to make sure it is safe enough for people, after the death of a highly-trained velociraptor wrangler. I wouldn’t trust two unknown children around my cats, let alone a fucking T-Rex. But anyway, character development, or whatever.
They get into automated Ford Explorers and begin the dino-tour. The first couple exhibits are woefully devoid of dinosaurs, so, to entice the T-Rex out of hiding, they turn on an elevator which brings up a goat. This is important for a couple reasons. First, Lex, the girl, is upset that the T-Rex is going to eat the goat, because she is a vegetarian. This is hardly the most important thing in the movie, but it should be noted that later on, Lex is seen eating Jello, which is made by boiling the bones and skins of cows and pigs. Someone should tell her, though probably after she escapes the dinosaur apocalypse. But the main issue to take with the goat scene is that it shows the T-Rex paddock to be level with the ground, all the way up to the electrified fence which surrounds it. This will become important later, when, right after the T-Rex uses this setup to escape its habitat, the ground becomes a huge drop-off, with a concrete wall reaching all the way down to the actual ground, about thirty feet below.
But that’s later. Now, they’re on the tour. Dr. Malcolm, in his characteristically sexual manner, uses a glass of water to explain to Dr. Sattler the nature of chaos theory. He shows her that a drop of water will not go down the same part of her hand as a previous drop of water, because microscopic variations in the skin follicles have now altered the skin's surface, and the path is no longer available to travel, or something. Except that’s not really chaos, is it, Ian? That’s just tiny science. Chaos would be if you actually had no clue why the water behaved the way it did, or if it, like, spontaneously became a bunch of chicken nuggets, or something. But whatever. About now, Dr. Grant sees that there is a sick triceratops in the field next to them, so he hops out of the moving car to check it out. Dr. Sattler follows. This is where the movie should end. Even if the investors were willing to overlook the park’s countless other obvious safety violations, the fact that anybody can just fuck off into a dinosaur-populated field in the middle of a guided tour would be enough to cause concern. We cut to the control room, where Muldoon says, “How many times do I have to say, there should be locking mechanisms on the vehicle doors?” Um, excuse me, what? Ford Explorers have locking mechanisms, straight out of the factory. Did they take them off? Who’s running this operation? For the first hour of this movie, Hammond’s catch phrase has been, “We spared no expense,” which is just blatantly untrue. By now we have met the other members of the park staff: Mace Windu and Newman from Seinfeld. That’s it. So there’s one expense you spared, Johnny: staffing. It takes more than two people to run a fucking laundromat, yet that’s all you need for your state-of-the-art dinosaur theme park?
Our heroes now walk up to a sick animal, only recently revived after over sixty-five million years, and proceed to touch it with their bare hands. Dr. Sattler squeezes the triceratops’s tongue until pus shoots out, and Dr. Grant puts his naked face against its convulsing stomach. Sattler thinks that the problem is with the poisonous berries littering the field, so she shoves her hand into a giant pile of dino droppings, but is satisfied when she comes up with nothing but diseased excrement. The weather gets bad, so almost everybody heads back into the Ford Explorers to return to the visitor’s center. Sattler stays, presumably to insert her head into one of the dinosaur’s orifices.
This is where the T-Rex breaks out. Newman had previously turned off all the security systems on the island, so he could steal some embryos for a rival…dinosaur theme park? Whatever. Fuck Newman. The point is, thanks to his greed, the T-Rex is able to tear up the electrified fence and escape. Just before she does this, we are treated to maybe the most iconic image in this entire film: the glass of water which ripples due to the seismic force of her powerful steps. This is important, because it establishes the T-Rex as a creature literally incapable of stealth, as, even from far away, her movements are telegraphed well ahead of time. Through a series of increasingly ill-advised decisions, the lawyer character is eaten, Lex and Tim almost get crushed to death inside their car, and Ian Malcolm gets his leg all fucked up. By now, the landscape has changed, so Dr. Grant and Lex repel down the newly-formed barrier wall, while the T-Rex pushes the crumpled Ford Explorer (still containing Tim) over the edge. They dodge it. It’s cool. Tim ends up in a tree, so Grant climbs up and rescues him, and they have to scramble back down before the car lands on them. They leave.
Sattler and Muldoon arrive at the T-Rex paddock too late, and they find the lawyer’s remains, along with Malcolm, who spouts some quip about this being a wonderful weekend. This guy really is lucky he’s portrayed by Jeff Goldblum, who can do no wrong, because if he had been, let’s say, Tom Cruise, I don’t think anybody would have had a problem with them just leaving him there to get eaten. They load Malcolm into their Jeep, and Sattler looks over the wall to see the destroyed Ford Explorer. She teleports down there to check it out, finds no trace of Grant and the kids, and teleports back, before the T-Rex sees them. They drive away. The T-Rex gives chase. It’s cool, but I have another question. Earlier, Hammond says that they clocked the T-Rex at thirty-two miles per hour. That’s at the very low end of third gear, for this manual vehicle. Sure, it’s wet and muddy, but it would still take significantly less than the minute or so it takes them to escape to get going that fast. A minor complaint, but one that would have been unnecessary if they had not told me specifically how fast this animal could run earlier. This whole sequence really drives home how inaccurate this film is, not just because of pedantic stuff like that, but because, when the T-Rex gets shockingly close to the car, Malcolm says, “Must go faster,” instead of the much more likely, “Jesus Fucking Christ, hurry the fuck up you Goddamned asshole!”
Newman get eaten.
Grant and the kids climb a tree and fall asleep. When they wake up, they are alarmed yet happy to see that a brachiosaurus has approached them. They explain to Lex that it is a vegetarian, like her, and they pet it. Tim looks at it and says that it looks like it has a cold. Hey, Tim? Bud? How the fuck are you able to diagnose an illness in a brachiosaurus? You’re like ten years old. He is right, though, and the dinosaur sneezes directly into Lex’s mouth. Eww. Grant finds some freshly-hatched dinosaur eggs, proving that Malcolm was right, and the all-female population had figured out a way to breed. Frog DNA, or something, it’s not important. What’s important is that life…uh…found a way.
In order to get the security measures back up, Hammond convinces Samuel L. Jackson to enact a complete system reset. Sam is reluctant to do this, despite the fact that this is the obvious solution. I know it’s 1993, and society isn’t quite as plugged-in as we are today, but turning something off and then turning it back on has been Machinery 101 since the Industrial Revolution. He takes a long time, so Sattler decides to go check on him. Muldoon insists on coming with her, because, as he says, “it’s not like you can just stroll down the road.” Then why didn’t you join Samuel L. Jackson earlier, Muldoon? He is in no way a dino-killing badass like yourself, and the needlessly inaccessible system of tunnels containing the backup generator is surrounded by velociraptors. But whatever.
Sattler and Muldoon go outside, and are almost immediately hunted. Muldoon tells Sattler to run to the shed, and she does. What follows is a period of about five minutes, where Sattler has to navigate the maintenance tunnels with the help of Hammond and Malcolm on the radio, while we simultaneously see Grant and the kids arrive at the perimeter fence. They have to climb over. Sattler turns the system back on while Tim is still climbing down, and, since he’s also not a dino-killing badass, he gets electrocuted because he doesn’t have the guts to jump down when Grant tells him to. He lives. Samuel L. Jackson does not. We see his arm, conveniently shoved into a gap in the wall, so it lands on Sattler’s shoulder before she realizes it is detached from his body. Those raptors sure are jokesters.
It is only now that we see Muldoon take on the raptors that had been stalking them outside. What he was doing all this time is unknown, but I have to assume it was cool. He gets a bead on one of the dinos, only to see another to the side, just like what Dr. Grant told that child from the beginning would happen to him. Muldoon says, “Clever girl,” which is a phrase I have been using approximately once every four and a half days non-stop since seeing this movie for the first time. Exit Muldoon.
Grant and the kids make it back to the visitor’s center, and Grant leaves for a minute to look for Sattler. In a scene which scared the absolute shit out of me when I was a child, the raptors show up, and Lex and Tim run into the kitchen to evade them. Through the magic of mirrors, they escape, locking one raptor in the freezer, and just kinda ignoring the other.
Sattler and Grant come back, and they all go to the control room. Even though they just went through all of that effort in the maintenance tunnels to get the system back online, they still have to reboot the door locks in the visitor’s center, for some reason. This is so Lex has something to do in the movie. She rescued Tim in the kitchen, but I guess that just wasn’t quite enough, so she shows off her computer hacking skills and gets the door locks back. I won’t get into how ridiculous the computer interface is, because it was a movie in 1993, a time when people skimmed William Gibson novels and turned their craziest ideas into scenes in otherwise supposedly realistic movies. In the book, it is Tim who is the computer expert, and Lex is in fact fucking useless. Actually, there are several changes between the book and the film, and I have to say, almost all of them were the right move. I read the book when I was like in seventh grade, and I will never read it again, but even still I remember reading it and being like, “what? No.” Although the book does have a whole section where the T-Rex follows them through a river, and that I remember as being totally radical, and there's also this super cool pterodactyl aviary, which pops up in the third film.
Our heroes escape through the ceiling of the control room, and end up in the lobby of the visitor’s center. The velociraptors have teleported to meet them there, and they poise to attack. But surprise! The T-Rex is here, and she fights them off, allowing the gang to slink away.
Um….what? What the hell happened to the miniature earthquakes that occured every time this huge bitch went anywhere? How the fuck did you morons allow a T-Rex to SNEAK UP ON YOU? And this goes double for you, velociraptors. Grant and company are humans, who we have established are not equipped for such intense activities, but you’re supposed to be elite hunters, and neither one of you noticed the hulking land leviathan right next to you? Come all the way the fuck on.
Anyway, Grant, Sattler, and the kids make it to the front of the building, where Hammond and Malcolm are waiting for them in a Jeep. Another interesting note about the novel: both of these characters die in it. Hammond gets eaten by a bunch of little chicken-sized dinos, and Malcolm dies in some other way I can’t remember. But the funny thing is, Malcolm ended up being such a beloved character in the film, due to his portrayal by Jeff Goldblum, who can do no wrong, that he is the protagonist of the second book. Michael Crichton explains this in incredibly lazy fashion, by simply saying, “yeah, that didn’t actually happen.”
Our heroes get back into the helicopter from the beginning and fly away. As they do, Dr. Grant looks out the window and sees a flock of birds. He smiles. I think what the movie is trying to say is that it is okay to feel a sense of wonder at the world around us. The dinosaurs which had caused them so much trouble were in no way villains. In fact, they were victims, pulled from a seemingly more barbaric time and dropped into ours, and any conflict between the two was merely due to an incompatibility which nature had previously reconciled for us. Grant believes that many dinosaur species evolved into modern-day birds, and, despite the terror of the previous two days, he cannot help but feel immense awe at the natural systems which, throughout time, have allowed so many different biological forms to exist. We should not try to play with nature in such a way as they have in Jurassic Park, not because man is not meant to have such power, but because we just aren’t as skilled in its use.
But I always saw this last shot as a guy looking at a bunch of birds and thinking, “Yeah, let’s just keep these.”
This movie is great. Wonderfully acted, brilliantly edited, and with stellar sound design and special effects. Any issues I have with it have only become apparent to me after an obscene number of viewings, and I think it really says something that I’m almost more impressed with the film because of them. It is tight and action-packed, but it never shies away from slowing down, when it needs to.The cast is obviously fantastic. It is by far the least insane film Sam Neill has ever starred in, which is pretty wild. I love it, and you should too.
Is that…is that good enough?
“Fine,” Kinobrax said. “That will do, for now.”
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