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Jurassic Park: I’m Still Rooting for the Dinosaurs
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Science Fiction Film Club
Jurassic Park: I’m Still Rooting for the Dinosaurs
How Steven Spielberg and an amazing team of artists changed moviemaking forever.
By Kali Wallace
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Published on August 26, 2026
Screenshot: Universal Pictures
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Screenshot: Universal Pictures
Jurassic Park (1993) Directed by Steven Spielberg. Written by Michael Crichton and David Koepp, based on the novel by Michael Crichton. Starring Sam Neill, Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum, and Richard Attenborough.
Would you go to Jurassic Park?
If the park were real and you could go see living, breathing, non-avian dinosaurs, would you go?
I would. Absolutely. No question.
Caveat: I would go if it were like the park was supposed to be in this movie, a safari park with small group tours through managed natural environments. The park in Jurassic World with all the crowds and grandstands looks like my personal nightmare, so I would probably not go to that one. When I lived close enough to be a member, I didn’t even like visiting the San Diego Safari Park on busy days, and the only dinosaurs they have are cool birds. They do have a cassowary, though, and cassowaries remember being dinosaurs. You can see it in their eyes.
I would go to Jurassic Park. That’s the enduring appeal and curious contradiction inherent to this movie and the lengthy franchise it spawned: We want it to be real, and the movie encourages that, while at the same time trying to say that we shouldn’t want it. It ends up being a bit of a philosophical muddle, but there are dinosaurs, so it doesn’t matter. It’s a great movie. I’ve seen it many times over the years, starting from when it was in theaters, and I never get tired of it.
Let’s go back to the beginning.
About 252 million years ago, when the world’s landmasses were combined in the supercontinent Gondwana, a period of intense volcanism caused a severe rise in atmospheric carbon dioxide, leading to a catastrophic mass that…
Just kidding. I’m not going to give you the entire history of dinosaur evolution. That would take too long. Let’s go back to the beginning of Jurassic Park, the movie, which means going back to the beginning of Jurassic Park, the book, which was first imagined as a very different movie.
In a 1993 Cinefantastique article, Michael Crichton explained that he had become interested in the idea of using DNA to bring dinosaurs back to life in the early 1980s, and he wrote a draft of a screenplay about geneticists working on the cloning. At the time, he thought dinosaurs were actually too popular, so he set the idea aside and spent a few years trying to figure out a better angle. He would later explain, in the 1993 “The Making of Jurassic Park” documentary, that he hit upon the idea of adding an amusement park element when he tried to figure out who would pay for such expensive research. There was also a period when the entire story was told from a child’s point of view, but his trusted group of first readers hated it, so he changed the perspective to an adult one.
Crichton decided to write the idea as a novel rather than a screenplay because he thought it would be too expensive to make as a movie. In a time frame that I frankly find absolutely mind-boggling as an author, he began writing the novel version in 1988, turned in the manuscript in May 1990, and the book was released by Knopf in October 1990. Some articles (like this) state that Crichton discussed the book with Steven Spielberg when they were talking about developing an old screenplay of Crichton’s into what would eventually become the television show ER (1994-2009), but the timeline is a little muddy, so I’m not sure if the conversations about ER came before or after Jurassic Park.
However Spielberg learned about the book, he got his hands on the galleys, loved it, and immediately acquired the rights after a short bidding war. That meant the movie was announced and in development several months before the book was published.
Crichton agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to write the first version of the screenplay. Screenwriter Malia Scotch Marmo wrote a second version, then David Koepp came on to write the final version. I have read the novel, but it was a long time ago, so I’m mostly relying on online plot summaries to remember the differences. The main difference I recall is that in the book the characters already know dinosaurs are escaping the island and attacking people before the story begins, so there’s a more urgent sense of dread offsetting the initial awe, and a longer pattern of corporate greed and negligence in the face of obvious danger.
Spielberg has always said that his interest in Jurassic Park was pretty straightforward: he loved dinosaurs, and he wanted to make another Jaws (1975). And just like in Jaws, the creatures were always going to be the stars of the movie.
The making of Jurassic Park is extremely well-documented. It might be the most well-documented film I’ve ever researched. There are multiple books and documentaries out there, and with every new movie in the franchise comes a fresh slew of articles, videos, and retrospectives. I’m not going to write about most of the production. There’s simply too much to cover, such as the fact that Nicolas Cage was the one who convinced Laura Dern to take the role and was jealous he didn’t get to do a dinosaur movie, or how Richard Attenborough slept peacefully through the entire night the cast and crew spent sheltering in the ballroom of their hotel when Hurricane Iniki hit Kauai, or the time paleontologist Jack Horner yelled at the visual effects crew for giving the Velociraptors lizard-like tongues, or the great John Williams score and the sound design by Gary Rydstrom, or the intense emotional whiplash of Spielberg directing Jurassic Park and Schindler’s List (1993) at the exact same time.
If you’re interested in the full story, I highly recommend checking out the various documentaries and books. It all makes for a very interesting look at a movie production that is notable not because it was dramatic or traumatic, but because things went pretty well, a lot of professionals did their jobs, the whole project came in ahead of schedule and under budget, and it was an immediate, unprecedented success.
Oh, and it changed the art and craft of special effects in film forever. That’s what I’m going to focus on. I’m going to talk about all the work that went into creating those incredible dinosaurs.
Jurassic Park is rightfully credited as a paradigm shift in filmmaking due to its use of computer-generated special effects. What tends to get a little bit lost, however, is that the film didn’t set out to revolutionize anything. The plan was to make the best possible dinosaur movie using the best techniques at the time: a combination of life-size animatronics and stop-motion animation, with limited CGI to enhance the practical effects.
For the animatronics, Spielberg enlisted special effects legend Stan Winston, whose work we’ve seen in The Thing (1982) and The Terminator (1984), and who by the early ’90s had won two Academy Awards for Aliens (1986) and Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991). The Stan Winston School has a whole playlist of videos detailing every step of the process of creating the dinosaurs, with particular focus on the Tyrannosaurus rex, for anybody who wants to build a life-size dinosaur of their own. You’ll need a lot of space and several friends to help you drive it.
According to concept artist Mark “Crash” McCreery, there were a number of dinosaur enthusiasts at Winston’s shop, and they were thrilled to get a chance to build dinosaurs. The dinosaurs started as drawings that reference the work of paleontologists like Jack Horner (upon whom Sam Neill’s character Alan Grant is based) and Robert Bakker (who is mentioned in the movie), and paleoartists like John Gurche, whose vibrant, action-packed paintings inspired a lot of the designs.
The first construction step was to build one-fifth scale sculptures of the dinosaurs. Then, to get from one-fifth scale sculptures to the life-size animatronics, they cut the sculptures into dozens of slices and projected the slices onto plywood at the full-size scale. They mounted the full-size pieces onto the metal armatures and covered the whole structure with chicken wire and fiberglass, upon which they added the layers of clay for sculpting. It’s hard to explain in words, but it makes perfect sense when you see it in action.
The next step was to use the full-size clay sculpture to mold the shell of the dinosaur that would hold the mechanical systems. They considered having the T. rex moved by non-mechanical puppeteers, but it was too big and would be impossible to maneuver on set. Then they considered using electric motors, but electric motors couldn’t move the creature fast enough. So they ended up constructing an amazingly complex hydraulic system, set within a welded steel frame and a core crafted from a continuous spiral to let the parts such as the neck and tail move realistically. The sculpted foam skin was sewn and glued into place over that core.
Next came the challenge of actually controlling the animatronic in real-time. In a 1993 interview with Cinefantastique, Winston explains how the usual way of moving an animatronic—such as for large-scale creatures at amusement parks—would be to painstakingly program a computer with the motions of every hydraulic part and play it back exactly. That works just fine if your animatronic is supposed to do the same thing over and over again, but it doesn’t work if your animatronic is going to be on a movie set with the director, cinematographer, and actors all adjusting things on the fly.
The solution Winston came up with was to build a performance-capturing system that would allow human controllers to “drive” the T. rex in real time, as the camera was rolling. They basically built a smaller, human-scale version of the T. rex’s interior hydraulics, and connected the two systems so that any movement of the small system would move the larger one. There were several people driving the T. rex every time it moved.
Those scenes were all done on film sets in Hollywood. The only animatronic dinosaur filmed on location in Hawaii was the ailing Triceratops, which is immobile except for its breathing. All the other scenes with the animatronic dinosaurs—the T. rex, the Velociraptors, the Brachiosaurus head that munches on the tree where Alan Grant (Sam Neill) and the kids are sheltering, and that little fan-fringed spitting Dilophosaurus—were all filmed on sets back in Hollywood.
It was fairly late in the process when Spielberg got the idea of setting the scene in which the T. rex attacks the vehicles during a rainstorm. This came as a surprise to Winston, who pointed out that nobody had told him and his crew that the T. rex would need to be waterproof. She was not, in fact, waterproof. She was covered with a thick layer of highly absorbent foam, and as soon as the rain turned on, the animatronic began soaking up water. Because water is very heavy, this unbalanced the hydraulics, so they had to keep stopping to dry the animatronic as best they could. There are hilarious behind-the-scenes clips of the operators frantically trying to towel off an enormous T. rex between takes, the same way hair and makeup staff might touch up an actor before their close-up.
But of course, not all of the dinosaurs could be animatronics, nor were they ever planned to be. Some, such as the first glimpse we and the characters get of the Brachiosaurus, required a moving dinosaur that was simply too big to build. Others, such as the early panoramic view of dinosaur herds on a lake or the stampede of Gallimimus fleeing the T. rex, were going to have a whole lot of dinosaurs in a single shot.
The initial plan for those scenes was stop-motion animation. Spielberg brought animator Phil Tippett onto the project very early in the pre-production. Tippett had worked on The Empire Strikes Back (1980) and several other films, but his most relevant experience was in animating the television documentary Dinosaur! (1985).
It’s important to note that what Tippett was doing in the ’80s and ’90s was not quite the same as the traditional stop-motion animation we’ve seen from Willis O’Brien or Ray Harryhausen, nor was it the same as what the folks at Laika or Aardman are doing today. When he was working on the Star Wars films with George Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic (ILM), Tippett and his colleagues, including Dennis Muren, developed a technique called “go motion” as a way to reduce the jerkiness of traditional stop-motion. They built a motorized rod puppet inside the animated figures; then the animator would move the figure through the desired set of motions. A computer would record those motions and play them back, which allowed the figure to go through the whole movement of sequence on camera, rather than capturing still images of every sequential step. The motorized motions would often be combined with traditional stop-motion for the smaller details to create a smooth, continuous animation. You can see how this works in the YouTube video “Learning from Legends: An Intro to Go Motion,” which includes some clips of the tauntaun animations from The Empire Strikes Back.
A combination of stop-motion and go motion animation was the original plan for several dinosaur scenes in Jurassic Park, and Tippett and his studio were well into the process before the plan changed. But there was one scene that nobody could quite figure out how to do with either animatronics or models: the Gallimimus stampede. For that, Spielberg turned to ILM animator Dennis Muren, who had recently worked wonders with CGI in creating the fluid metal T-1000 in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Muren and his team were more than happy to take on the task of animating the Gallimimus stampede—in fact, they wanted to prove they could do more than that, even though Spielberg hadn’t asked them to.
ILM animators Mark Dippé and Steven Williams really wanted to try creating the T. rex in digital animation, so they decided to just go for it. In a 1993 interview with American Cinematographer, Williams explained how he had his brother-in-law send him a complete schematic of a T. rex skeleton from the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Alberta, Canada. Williams scanned that skeleton schematic into the computer and had another ILM animator, Stefen Fangmeier, create a 3D render. With that render he animated a full T. rex walk cycle.
The animation test was so good that Muren called up Jurassic Park producer Kathleen Kennedy to arrange for her and Spielberg to take a look. The skeleton animation blew their minds. Kennedy would later say, “…It caused five or six of us to literally leap to our feet because it was so extraordinary.” And Spielberg said, “The last time my jaw dropped like that was when George Lucas showed me the shot of the Imperial cruiser.”
Cool as the test animation was, they obviously could not use a skeletal T. rex in the film. That would be appropriate in the film about the Eternal Dinosaur Skeleton War that I’m totally going to write one day (this is me calling dibs), but not in a film about a dinosaur wildlife park. The dinosaurs in Jurassic Park are meant to be realistic and convincing as living, breathing animals. They needed musculature and skin. They needed weight and bulk. They needed personality.
Luckily for them, the production already had some people hanging around who knew how to make that happen. Even though there weren’t going to be stop-motion dinosaurs in the film anymore, Tippett’s expertise as a dinosaur lover and dinosaur animator was still necessary. Working with Muren, he adapted the armature of the motorized go motion models to create what articles refer to as a “Digital Interface Device” (DID) and interviews refer to as a “Dinosaur Input Device.” (I assume the former is the official name and the latter is what everybody called it because it’s much more charming.) How this worked was Tippett and his animators would move the models equipped with the DID, and a computer would log these motions just as it would in go motion animation. But instead of playing it back to animate and film the model, as they would in go motion animation, the motions would be sent to the computer animators, who would then add the necessary skin and texture maps to complete the images. The visual elements were developed by scanning Winston’s one-fifth scale models to ensure the dinosaurs had the same anatomy and markings across all the different forms.
The computer animators at ILM also brought in performance artist Leonard Pitt as a movement consultant to help them figure out things like where a creature’s center of gravity ought to be and how its weight would shift while it moved. There was also reference to living animals; the sprinting of the Gallimimus, for example, is modeled on the motion of ostriches.
There is one more element that must be mentioned when it comes to putting the dinosaurs on screen. In the scene where the Velociraptors stalk the kids in the resort kitchen, there are some moments where the raptors are not CGI or stop-motion, nor are they animatronics. They are good old-fashioned men in dinosaur suits. They are, in fact, special effects supervisor John Rosengrant and concept artist Crash McCreery. Because even in film that showcases tremendous technological advancements, sometimes the best choice is to stick with the classics.
The success of the digital animation allowed Spielberg to add a new scene rather late in the production, one that wasn’t in the book or the shooting script. The original plan for the final confrontation in the park’s visitor center initially featured only the Velociraptors. But Spielberg realized audiences would be disappointed if the T. rex didn’t make another appearance in a big showdown right at the end. They couldn’t use the animatronic; the whole contraption was 18 feet tall, 36 feet long, and weighed several tons. It could not simply be moved into a set that had not been built for it.
So they decided to create the T. rex digitally, along with the unlucky Velociraptor the T. rex picks up and flings across the room. Looking back on it now, they were taking quite a risk. Not only is it the climax of the film, but it’s an incredibly complicated scene: the digital Tyrannosaurus had to crash into a room in which multiple humans, two Velociraptors, and a collapsing fossil are all moving independently, and the dinosaur-on-dinosaur violence was going to be shown by a roving camera at very close range, in bright light, and totally unobscured. There was no rain or darkness or jungle foliage to hide behind.
It worked. Of course it worked! It ended up becoming a fantastic, instantly iconic scene, the kind of movie climax that still gets cheers when people watch.
In that 1993 American Cinematographer interview, Muren said of Jurassic Park’s digital effects, “I’m not sure how this stuff is going to age, because we’re starting out with something that’s so strong.” It was a valid question at the time, but the truth is that it’s aged beautifully.
More than thirty years later, the special effects in Jurassic Park still set a remarkably high cinematic standard. The dinosaurs still look better than a lot of creature effects that came after. There is a tendency, in this most cynical age, to claim that this is because we were awed by their novelty at the time or are blinded by our nostalgia bias now. We were indeed awed by the novelty at the time, but nostalgia bias is not why the movie still looks great. It looks great because it looks great, full stop. Even though I’ve seen this movie many times, and I’ve watched countless behind-the-scenes features about the visual effects, I still find the combination of different techniques to be essentially seamless. Sure, if we study individual frames or scenes hard enough, we can figure out where the animatronic T. rex moves out of scene and the digital T. rex moves in, but it’s done so smoothly, with such clever editing, that it never disrupts the movie.
And that, I think, is the key to Jurassic Park’s movie magic: it is a movie that is always inviting us in, never forcing us out. We want Jurassic Park to be real, and the movie understands that. The fact that the dinosaurs are very scary as they try to eat the characters does not take away from the fact that they are also magnificent. The film is nerdy but accessible, both skillfully made and a great deal of fun, with a cast that fully commits to wide-eyed excitement, but most of all it’s immersive. We want so very badly to see dinosaurs alive, and the movie is not mocking us for that childlike yearning. It welcomes our enthusiasm instead and uses it to provoke awe and terror in equal measure, and in doing so it very much earns its place in film history.
So, would you go to Jurassic Park? What do you think of the film after all these years? Or the book? I confess I’ve only seen the beginning of Jurassic World, so I have no real opinion on the many sequels. I just love this movie so much I’ve never felt the need for more, but if any of them are any good, let me know![end-mark]
We’re All Mad Here…
Obviously we should bring dinosaurs back from the dead if we can figure out how, but I can’t say the same about other mad science endeavors portrayed in film throughout the years. In September we’re going to watch some horror movies about mad scientists whose projects tend to go, ah, maybe a little not great.
September 2 — Frankenstein (1931), directed by James Whale
The moody, pre-Code Boris Karloff classic that defined a genre.
Find it online.
View the trailer.
September 9 — Island of Lost Souls (1932), directed by Erle C. Kenton
Let’s find out why H.G. Wells hated this adaptation of The Island of Doctor Moreau.
Find it online.
View the trailer.
September 16 — Eyes Without a Face (1960), directed by Georges Franju
The classic surreal French horror about questionable medical experiments and bad parenting.
Find it online.
View the trailer.
September 23 — Re-Animator (1985), directed by Stuart Gordon
Honestly, this is just what medical students do in their free time.
Find it online.
View the trailer.
September 30 — The Fly (1958), directed by Kurt Neumann, and The Fly (1986), directed by David Cronenberg
I want to watch both versions, so we’re doing a doubleheader of unwise teleportation experiments.
Find both movies online: 1958 and 1986.
View the 1958 trailer and the 1986 trailer.
The post <i>Jurassic Park</i>: I’m Still Rooting for the Dinosaurs appeared first on Reactor.