Jurassic Park (1993)

Bringing the prehistoric back to life, Jurassic Park arrives with tremors of the Earth and a bone-chilling roar.

The film assures us of one thing: it was not impossible to bring dinosaurs back to life; it was imprudent. Chaos theory is placed front and center as the explanation for the failure of the park. John Hammond, played by Richard Attenborough, is a believer in an implicit alternative simplicity theory; every obstacle has an achievable, understandable solution.

Ian Malcolm, played by Jeff Goldblum, knows better. He insists that the largest obstacle was never the biological reconstruction of dinosaurs. Rather, it was controlling them once they were here.

The film goes to great lengths to vindicate his view on multiple fronts.

First, it brings the dinosaurs to life on screen. Despite all the assurances of paleontology, it was Jurassic Park that truly convinced audiences that dinosaurs were not only real but that "they are out in force today." This was made possible through a pioneering use of CGI and breathtaking animatronics that towered over the sets. The practical nature of the movie's creations makes it feel as though you can reach out and touch the dinosaurs (careful; they bite). This is seen in the pebbly skin and heaving chest of the sick triceratops, and the slick rain-covered head of the rex as it hefts its meal upward and then down its throat. Belief in living dinosaurs is suddenly coming to us quite easily.

The sounds used to give the dinosaurs personality are horrifying and inventive, from the shrieking wails of the raptors to the thundering roar of the rex. A variety of real-life animal and human sounds contributed to the creation of these effects, with prominently heard samples including those of tigers, elephants, and dolphins. The sound effects are so well engineered that the average moviegoer now thinks they know what a dinosaur sounds like. And so, we are no longer in the theater; we’re in the jungle.

All of this convinces the audience that "the hard part" is done. On top of the sound and visuals, the scientific voodoo behind the resurrection of the dinosaurs is so compelling that audience members will ask themselves, “why haven’t we done that?”

Thus, dinosaurs are here. Simplicity itself. But chaos breaks through upon closer examination.

Alan Grant, played by Sam Neill, and his group are initially awestruck but remain mostly wary. The island physically and conceptually telegraphs everything wrong with Jurassic Park. The towering fences give a false sense of security, one reinforced by every piece of technology in the park. The tropical surroundings betray the wildness of the island, implying that InGen has not successfully tamed it. Perhaps most worrying of all, the hyper-intelligent and predatory velociraptors have displayed behavioral problems and been sectioned off to a small enclosure, with Hammond remaining nervous about their display.

Hammond keeps deploying simple solutions to complex problems. And he is so distracted in doing so that he misses the true security threat right in front of him: Dennis Nedry, played by Wayne Knight. It wasn't just Hammond’s inability to play genetic god that brought Jurassic Park down; he also failed at extremely mundane tasks, leading to mismanaging key employees and allowing some of the most expensive corporate espionage on the planet to play out in his park. He could create an impossible system; he couldn't possibly hope to manage it.

The park loses power and so does Hammond. Even with Herculean effort, the park cannot be brought back under his control. As it turns out, it never was under his control in the first place. Dinosaurs are coming back to life but they won't be doing so on human terms.

It is only after untold destruction and carnage that a much belated moment of bluntness is exchanged between our characters. Grant, fleeing from danger and approaching their getaway vehicle, declares firmly, "Mr. Hammond, after careful consideration I've decided not to endorse your park." Hammond, beginning to drive them away, responds, "So have I."

Simplicity theory remains tempting. The viewer may begin identifying individual problems and the solutions they call for, thus falling into the very trap the film describes. But complexity often doesn't express itself through simple addition; in fact, Jurassic Park’s complexity remains aggressively exponential and singular solutions only exacerbate the underlying issue. Seeking control only empowers chaos.

Almost in argument against itself, the film is an incredibly ordered work which functions well not just as a standalone film, but as a worthy adaptation. Michael Crichton's ability to weave popular fiction with cutting edge science is on display in both versions of the work, with him serving as writer on the screenplay and eloquently retelling his own story. It seems modest complexity, when managed, can produce incredible results.

One of the greatest films ever created, this movie doesn't just seek to entertain; it seeks to examine the limitations of human effort itself. But where limits are concerned, Jurassic Park is defiant, surpassing every single one. And it is not alone in this endeavor. Extinction? "Life, uh, finds a way."