Jurassic Park is one of the greatest films ever made. When it came out, it terrified my mother so much, through the screaming children in the film, that she didn’t want us young apes watching it. But we were kids, and dinosaurs were exciting. We loved it. It also marks such a pivotal moment in moviemaking history in the fact that the film chose to use CGI for much of the dinosaur action. I believe this had a bit to do with a fella known as “Spaz”, an ILM artist who didn’t quite play by the rules, whose story is told in the film Jurassic Punk. He left his computer screen visible to Spielberg when the great director took a day to visit ILM. On the screen was a test he had been working on and as soon as Spielberg saw it, he said he wanted to use that tech. I was told this story by a friend who works in visual effects. I still have to watch the documentary myself. In the end, the choice was the right one. Even today, decades later, the visual effects still hold muster and often outshine the more spectacular contemporary CGI crap we see in theaters.
The cast is legendary. Each person plays their part to perfection. Jeff Goldblum’s nervous energy, Sam Neill’s composed gravitas, Laura Dern’s fierce curiosity. They all feel like humans who could actually survive on an island where prehistoric beasts run amok. Watching the ensemble cast navigate fear and chaos in Jurassic Park reminds me why we love watching humans test their luck against nature.
The film is terrifying not because of cheap jump scares, but because the threat is constant and unknowable. Spielberg balances suspense, humor, and awe in a way that makes the T-Rex breakout still pulse with tension decades later. The raptors in the kitchen, oh, the raptors, those scenes are perfection: clever, cruel, and just messy enough to feel real. The practical effects by Stan Winston’s team combined with CGI make the dinosaurs alive. They move like actual predators, not animated puppets, and that keeps the suspension of disbelief intact. Even the slightly oversized, featherless velociraptors, which paleontologists would argue aren’t quite accurate, fit the story and add to the adventure rather than detract from it.
Then there’s the score. John Williams’ music is like the heartbeat of the park itself: thrilling, majestic, occasionally terrifying. It makes the dinosaurs feel larger-than-life, and yet strangely intimate, as if their presence is both a wonder and a warning. Watching this film is a lesson in how sound, sight, and performance come together to create a world that feels real, even when it’s populated by creatures that have been extinct for millions of years. It’s a masterpiece of movie magic.
On a personal note, the film has always been a touchstone in my life. My young nephew recently ran through his kitchen shouting, “Dobson! We’ve got Dobson here!”. A tableau that transported me back to my own childhood, experiencing that first rush of fear and awe. As a young ape, I found the dinner scene dull, but as I grew older, I began to appreciate the dialogue that unfolds, the subtle tension, the ethical questions buried in the chaos. The story is about human hubris: we can clone dinosaurs, build theme parks, and manipulate nature, but nature always finds a way.
Jurassic Park is timeless. It entertains, it teaches, and it terrifies, all while inviting the viewer to marvel at the ingenuity of filmmaking itself. It is an adventure, cautionary tale, and cinematic triumph rolled into one. Watching the behind-the-scenes content on the DVD, learning how the magic was made, only deepened my appreciation for the art of film making. It’s a reminder that the best stories are the ones that make you believe the impossible might just walk right past you.
In the end, Jurassic Park is more than a dinosaur movie, it’s a story about humans, their ingenuity, mistakes, and endless fascination with life beyond ourselves. It’s why it remains one of my favourite flicks, and why it will continue to terrify and inspire generations of young ‘uns to come.
