Jurassic Park is Steven Spielberg at his best, a movie made by a man who understands and wields the all-encompassing power of cinema. So much of the story is about regular people—intelligent, and at the top of their game, but still fairly average people—being tossed into, essentially, a movie. The centerpiece of the film, still its very best scene, is when the Tyrannosaurus Rex breaks free from its enclosure and attacks Tim and Lex in their Ford Explorer after the cartoonish lawyer Donald Gennaro ran in fear to a nearby bathroom. (It’s been said before, but man, Spielberg must’ve hated lawyers something terrible when making this movie.) What struck me this time is that, for a good chunk of the sequence, we are not the only ones watching the terror unfold. There’s a voyeuristic streak laced with a chaser of control throughout—Hammond, Muldoon, and others watch and help navigate the failed tour—most disquieting as Grant and Malcolm sit in their Explorer, paralyzed and initially helpless, just watching. Jurassic Park is packed with scenes where someone is trying to gain or maintain control despite their physical separation from those they wish to dominate: Dennis Nedry wheedling his way onto a ship to the mainland, Hammond and Malcolm bickering over who can lead Ellie to a power grid quicker, that first tour around the park, and on and on. There are also a handful of scenes where these characters, so sure of their power, attempt to break the seal, to break the fourth wall, as when the scientists escape from the introductory video explaining how these dinosaurs were created to interact with those people working behind the glass. These are characters who want control, unable to contain their curiosity, thus creating chaos.
CLICK HERE TO EXPAND THIS ARTICLE