[Filling the Space is a flexible column where our writers could vent, deconstruct, and work their way around the emotions brought on by TV, films, books, music, and key moments in pop culture. This isn’t meant to be analytical, but instead, a way for us to explore our feelings.]
When I think about the movies that defined me as a person and made me the critic I am, a few always come to mind: Roman Holiday, Moulin Rouge, While You Were Sleeping, It’s a Wonderful Life, Clue, and Jurassic Park. Each different in its own way, yet there are pieces of them in me that I’ve carried throughout my career and as a fan.
In all of these movies, there are moments that perpetually leave me speechless—moments that I feel words just aren’t enough to convey the impact and how they’re proof of how gorgeous the human mind can be. In Jurassic Park, it’s the scene where we first see the Brachiosaurus. When Sam Neill’s Dr. Alan Grant spots one, and we can feel the tension in the beat skyrocket as he yanks off his sunglasses, while Laura Dern’s Ellie Sattler is going off about species extinctions. The way he shifts her head to the sight before him, and she mirrors his astonishment as the dinosaur slowly comes into the frame at the same moment that the music in John Williams’ official theme crescendos.
It’s one of those scenes that no matter how many times I watch it, I’m a kid again. Wide-eyed and grinning, in awe of the fact that a movie can create something this transcendent to assimilate a time long before ours. It’s the definition of movie magic in a beat that captures our curiosity and the innate human desire to want more out of life. We don’t have to be archaeologists to understand just how cool this is. How wondrous and monumental, even if it all crumbles at the end of the film. Even the way Jeff Goldblum’s Ian Malcolm delivers his shock, and the look in his eyes behind the tinted glasses.
Steven Speilberg revolutionzed so much of film as we know it, but I’ll always vouch for the fact that Jurassic Park is his best work to date. Thematically, visually, and narratively, it’s all still relevant today as an account for how to create something that’s indescribably evocative. It’s a cautionary tale as a story, yes, but as a movie, it’s remarkable to see just how much creativity speaks when we’re given the space.
There’s also the time period, the nostalgia, the coloring, and the film quality—all of which ensure that the movie (and specifically this moment) shines as a daring, brilliant escape. Something unbelievable that gets better and better with every viewing.
There’s also the time period, the nostalgia, the coloring, and the film quality—all of which ensure that the movie (and specifically this moment) shines as a daring, brilliant escape. Something unbelievable that gets better and better with every viewing. It helps that the Brachiosaurus is one of my favorite dinosaurs, so it all just feels surreal. And yeah, yeah, it’s a movie, but for a split second, it’s so easy to feel the same overwhelming emotions the characters do as it happens in front of their eyes.
And that theme? Of all the themes? Nothing will ever top John Williams’ Jurassic Park theme for me. And for that? Words will never be enough.
First Featured Image Credit: ©Universal Pictures