Jurassic Park

Jurassic Park puts us in the company of a succession of flawed, grasping men struggling with their place in the world. Their default coping mechanisms tend towards career, above all else. Whether through intent or just plain slightness of writing (screenwriters Michael Crichton and David Koepp adapting the former's best-selling novel), the vast majority of the men in Steven Spielberg's film are explicitly defined by their work. We have a couple of scientists, several corporate climbers, and even a Great White Hunter. Each, in turn, is proven flawed or even expendable. These men fail in Jurassic Park because they have no underlying responsibility, their skill sets are defined purely by ego and therefore found wanting. The only specimen to transcend this holding pattern is Sam Neill's Dr Alan Grant, a grumpy palaeontologist. 

We are introduced to Grant in his professional capacity as a Dinosaur Dig Supervisor, with the good doctor wandering around upsetting computers and frightening children with his vivid descriptions of their consumption. Dr Grant is in a relationship with Laura Dern's Dr Ellie Sattler, a much younger palaeobotanist. The difference in age suggests a kind of conspiratorial impropriety between the two, perhaps beginning in a University setting? Anyway, she wants him to settle down and have children. He'd rather poke around with fossilised bones. It's a poor start for this action hero. Grant has greatness thrust open him when the titular resort goes into meltdown leaving him stranded in the Tyrannosaurus paddock with two children in tow. Grant had been alarmed by the idea of offspring: they'd ruin his fun and probably smell. All in all, they represent an extra responsibility that he just doesn't want. Nevertheless, Grant warms to the youngsters quickly. 

Like himself, Joseph Mazzello's Tim is a walking dinosaur encyclopaedia; Ariana Richards' Lex is blonde and forthright like Dr Sattler. The children are a leavening influence on Grant then, not only do they force him to become stable and emotional available they even eke out his latent sense-of-humour. In a way these children are an instant, fully-formed representation of the kind of family that Sattler and Grant might (eventually) expect to have. Neill's palaeontologist has instantly understood that he has to take a very specific role in this situation: he must be strong and calm, towering above any danger the gang might find themselves in. In order to keep the children from becoming catatonic Grant must be their rock. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger's T-800 in Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Dr Grant has become a surrogate father. Maybe this is why the film struck such a chord with its young audience? Set aside the perennial prehistoric favourites and you have a piece that treats children as precious commodities that intrinsically confer purpose.