Leapin’ Lizards! David Denby’s 1993 Review of Jurassic Park

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This article first appeared in the June 21, 1993 edition of New York magazine. We’re re-sharing it as a tribute to the newest installment in the Jurassic series – “Jurassic World: Reborn”.

One chilling and awe-inspiring moment in Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park stands out: the thunderous roar of the Tyrannosaurus rex after feeding, a sound that echoes for miles. This terrifying roar was created by amplifying an elephant’s trumpet call but made even louder, deeper, and prolonged, as if coming from colossal hollows. To many listeners like myself, it sounds like the triumphant bellow of the monarch of all beasts. Spielberg envisioned this sound as something that could strike fear into the heart.

It’s clear as day: The dinosaurs in “Jurassic Park” are nothing short of extraordinary. Gone is the clumsy, cartoonish feel from old films we recall. The T-rex lumbers heavily, causing the ground to tremble, but when it swiftly moves its neck and jaws to devour something, it does so with chilling rapidity. These creatures are ravenous. The smaller velociraptors, or raptors, crouch forward on their minuscule front legs, only to suddenly leap, propelled by their powerful back legs; this seemingly graceful move takes on a menacing quality. The dinosaurs always appear lifelike, even when they break through barriers and invade a modern industrial kitchen. They are in search of sustenance – human beings who have become their potential victims. “Jurassic Park,” adapted from the Michael Crichton bestseller, is a witty commentary on evolution: Man, the supposed master of the universe, has been reduced to mere flesh, hunted by animals thought too dim-witted to survive. In its blend of excitement, humor, and suspense, “Jurassic Park” approaches the heights of “Jaws,” though Spielberg’s modern approach to filmmaking can sometimes feel overly calculated.

On a small Caribbean island close to Costa Rica, an eccentric tycoon (Richard Attenborough) has established a hybrid animal sanctuary that combines elements of a theme park and the monstrous Bronx Zoo. The star attraction: real dinosaurs, replicated in the lab using DNA strands preserved for 65 million years within the bodies of ancient mosquitoes. These colossal creatures are often referred to as… extinction-surpassing? Or resurrected?

As a dedicated movie enthusiast, let me share my take on this: Before the grand unveiling of the park to the public, the tycoon invites scientists onto the island for approval and financial backing. Among them are Alan Grant, a somewhat secluded paleontologist; Ellie Sattler, his compassionate and loving colleague; Ian Malcolm, a gloomy mathematician with an affinity for dark theories like chaos theory; and two of the tycoon’s own grandchildren, picture-perfect little blondes. Inside the park, however, disaster strikes as a saboteur causes computer systems to fail, leading to pandemonium. The animals, sensing an opportunity, storm the visitors’ center, seemingly shouting, “Feed me!

While I’m taking this in, it feels eerily familiar – as if these scenes have played out on the big screen before. The reptilian visage, the teeth bared menacingly, have sent shivers down viewers’ spines in films like Aliens, Gremlins, Predator, and others. To a certain extent, Jurassic Park can be seen as a well-oiled machine, designed to deliver big-budget thrills – a money-making device with tried-and-true components that have proven successful in the past. I doubt Steven Spielberg’s faith in chaos is anything more than philosophical: nothing as unpredictable as spontaneity will derail this multi-million-dollar film’s relentless march towards a half-billion-dollar global gross.

Spielberg skillfully builds tension throughout the movie, keeping us guessing but not surprising us emotionally. His signature techniques, both effective and less so, are evident. The film’s introduction features raptors, too fierce to be seen at first, eating a man – similar to how a young swimmer was suddenly pulled under in Jaws. There are echoes of the awestruck anticipation from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, with cameras rising over amazed faces and prolonged silences leading up to a significant reveal. The horror is also reminiscent, with a character so terrified he can’t leave his seat until the T-rex destroys the bathroom and consumes him. As danger approaches, a shaking liquid – like water in a glass or Jell-O on a spoon – serves as a recurring warning signal, much like the ominous music in Jaws.

However, Spielberg indeed delivers, providing thrills with his exceptional skill in movement mechanics and understanding of fear psychology. The harrowing scene where a T-rex attacks a car carrying two young children, causing them to shine a powerful light at the beast – which inadvertently attracts it – is deeply distressing due to the children’s vulnerability. Despite being monsters that children are fond of, dinosaurs evoke a sense of pathos due to their size, fearsome nature, and extinction, possibly resonating with everyone. Following their escape from the tyrannosaur, Grant and the children venture into lush forests. Despite his dislike for children, Grant finds a connection with them, sharing their curiosity. Enthralled, he forgets to feel afraid. A poignant moment in the film – as touching as any in Close Encounters – occurs when a herd of gallimimuses approaches them, leaving them so captivated they don’t move until the last possible second.

Is “Jurassic Park” more than just a warning tale about the dangers of science? The film could be interpreted as the extravagant grandchild of all those old-fashioned sci-fi/horror movies from the 50s, where scientists were portrayed as mad and creating monstrous creatures like giant mutated ants. However, “Jurassic Park” also offers a peaceful retreat, a sanctuary. The animals evoke not only fear but awe, and the setting in which they roam is as much a paradise as a battlefield. Perhaps Spielberg himself is torn. On one hand, he shares the wide-eyed wonder of the paleontologist character, enamored by the creatures he’s longed to see. On the other, he adopts a cynical perspective, like Jeff Goldblum’s character Malcolm, who anticipates the worst in any scenario. Malcolm suggests, and the film agrees, that there are some aspects of nature that cannot be tamed or domesticated. “They’re just animals,” Ellen says to the children in an attempt to reassure them. Yes, and as animals, they simply continue their natural behavior, much like the shark in “Jaws“. In a clever twist, the raptors chase the children into a modern kitchen, effortlessly jumping over the shiny metal counters, hunting for their meal.

First, it’s best not to interfere with the natural order of evolution; dinosaurs had their time and can’t adjust to the human era. Second, avoid romanticizing the ruthless nature of our world. While these messages may be valuable, a few days after watching the movie (when the T-rex’s roar no longer startles me), I found myself questioning why so much effort was put into bringing dinosaurs back to life just to use them as frightening characters in another monster film. It seems Spielberg is harsh towards his own creations. After humans depart from the island, who or what will provide food for the animals?

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2025-07-03 16:54