Remembering Petticoat Lane: Reflections on Jurassic Park 25 Years Later

A year ago, I would never have imagined a more ludicrous scenario: I’d have an abstract accepted for a symposium entirely dedicated to Jurassic Park.

I remember getting the first email telling me I was accepted and saying to myself, “No, this is a mistake”. I think I even had to double-check with the organizers to make sure. But it was real; I was going to the United Kingdom to speak about a film that had a major impact on my life.

Why I was accepted despite the lack of an academic qualification baffled me. But, as I arrived last Friday to Cardiff University, I got a partial answer. Everyone presenting that day was much like me–longtime fans with personal, intimate stories of how the film affected their lives. All of us wanted to express our love for Jurassic Park in some manner, and the deep profundity of its affect on us.

Reflecting on all of this on the 25th anniversary of Jurassic Park’s release, I’m struck with the realization of just how much I’ve been shaped by this film. Since I was three years old, it’s been a part of my life. Today, it’s an absolutely indelible part of my identity. In an odd sense, I would not be me without Jurassic Park.

I don’t remember when I first saw Jurassic Park, but from an early age, I’ve been forever immersed in the world the film opened up. I learned the names and facts of every dinosaur I could locate, filled notebooks with writings of dinosaurs and the Jurassic Park characters running for their lives and fighting each other, drew and colored replicas of all the toys I had. In my imagination, I saw my dinosaurs as living, breathing animals set against the backdrop of Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna. They would hunt and eat and fight each other in the dance of life. My youth was tooth and claw, snout and tail, feather and bone.

Somewhere between 12 and 14 years old, my peers and most adults made it clear my interests were childish. A bad earth science teacher my freshman year of high school sealed my fate; her pessimism and demeaning attitude made me feel stupid and sent my dying paleontological dreams into extinction.

So, I locked the passion away through my teenage years and into my twenties. However, the film remained a vital part of my identity, whether I acknowledged it or not. With the friends I made in college, dinosaurs became the common point of reference for me. As I explored what would become my double major, Philosophy, I found myself deeply interested in natural and scientific philosophy. To say this was inevitable is, I think, an understatement.

In the last few years–starting after Jurassic World went from being rumor to reality–my love for the franchise has seen a renaissance. I have shut down the fences, opened the gates, and let my Jurassic passion roam free once again–especially over the past year. Since then, I have connected with so many people who feel as I do–something I’ve never been around much before.

It’s hard for me to participate in fan communities. I often feel my earnestness and love for whatever material the community follows comes across as overbearing or annoying. I still feel that way, and sometimes have to force myself to back up so I can avoid alienating people, but it’s different with the Jurassic Park community. People get me and engage rather than stand farther back. As someone who’s grown used to a certain level of loneliness in their lives, that camaraderie is a life force.

I’ve been sitting with many of these disjointed thoughts since I got back from the UK. That trip would not have happened without Jurassic Park, as well as all the adventures I had while I was there. From hunting fossils in Lyme Regis to scoping out dinosaurs in London with other Jurassic fans, it was all inspired by this movie.

As I reflect on just what Jurassic Park means to me, I really don’t know if there’s enough time or words in the world to give that meaning written justice. All I can say, really, is that the scope and shape of my life is influenced by the movie. It has brought me immeasurable joy, happiness, and peace when I’ve needed them the most. No doubt, too, has it informed my political, social, environmental, philosophical, moral, and scientific perspectives and beliefs; it’s part of the very referential frame I use to interpret the world–for better or worse. It’s also one of the reasons I write and create in the first place. From a young age, the film impacted me in such an intimate and intense way; my whole life since has been an attempt to create things that do the same for others.

Overall, I think, Jurassic Park’s most enduring impact on my life is a sense of comfort. It exists as a mooring in a world of constant change. It’s there when I need to retreat from the world, even if just for a few hours. Getting lost in the lushes of its island jungle is as much an adventure as it is a journey home; around the next bend is the perimeter fence, and beyond that, the Visitor’s Center, the Raptor paddock, and a herd of Brachiosaurus.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine walking the trail, returning from a wild world to one familiar and unchanging. The relief you feel when you get there is like when the plane lands at Logan: I am back where I belong.