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How was Jurassic Park conceived? An Investigation

So, who the fuck pitched Jurassic Park??

I mean, you’ve watched it, it is bonkers.

Jurassic Park fulfils every childhood fantasy about dinosaurs. Walking with the brachiosauruses, seeing a T-Rex fuck up one particularly unlucky gallimimus, the sheer viewing pleasure of a pack of velociraptors taking down a triceratops.

Sounds fucken sweet don't it?

Well it is. And it could have been a real fucking hallmark feel good movie about some domestic drama between a family. A bonding and healing experience together on vacation at the park.

Except, Steven Spielberg directed it and Mr Spielberg says a big fuck you to your feel good bullshit.

Steven directs a fucking exposé on the folly of man playing god with science. Making us appear marvellously similar to a toddler playing with a loaded revolver.

And yet, it’s still a great movie.

It just WORKS.

A particularly favourite part of mine is the T-Rex, they really anthropomorphise this mf into a complex villain. Im not going into the story here. If you don’t know it, you haven’t watched it. If you haven’t watched it, you can get fucked ‘til you do (read: please do not continue reading this intellectual essay if you have not received the Jurassic experience, please educate yourself before pursuing this meaningful piece).

I love it.

But I’ll tell you what I love more, I love to think (read: fantasise) about the inception of Jurassic Park.

My leading theory as to how Jurassic Park was conceived is as follows:


The most vanilla boardroom you’ve seen in your entire life.

The producer walks in, Spielberg is seated.


Mr Spielberg, thank you for making time for us.


You have 10 minutes.


Oh believe us Mr Spielberg, we’ll make it worth your while.


I hear that three times a day, hurry up.


Well Mr Spielberg, do those people also offer you over US$100 000 000 to make a movie?

His throat catches a bit, and coughs very quietly. Massaging his throat, you begin to notice he has begun perspiring…


No, they do not.


Well Mr Spielberg, that’s about all there is to it. We want to give you $100 000 000 to make a movie. We only have one rule about what you do with it, because we gotta be honest, we’re big fans. We don't want to mess with the creative process.

Spielberg has begun salivating, he shakily replies….


Well what is it then? This rule?


The film must centred around….. dinosaurs.

His face drops, dumbfounded.




The movie, must be about dinosaurs.

Taken aback, Steven laughs.


Sure, now what’s the rule?


That is the rule, it must be about dinosaurs.

You see his face begin to work, his brain processing the information. In fact, you see him pass through the stages of grief. He rapidly works through to anger. The fire in his eyes, burning like coals. Then you see an idea dawn, his eyes open, brighten. The heat dissipates, replaced by a cold rage. Now, eyes ice-like, he looks at the greasy presenter….


I'll do it. I'll do your damn movie.

The greasy producer smiles warmly.


Excellent! We'll get the contract sorted.


Don’t be so speedy, I have some rules myself.

Standing to leave, the producer spares Stephen a glance.


Really Mr Spielberg, that will not be necessary. We have complete faith in you. Legal will be in touch shortly to arrange the finance.

He rises, turns and exits.

Steven, enraged, hatches the plot of Jurassic Park. He makes a ground breaking decision in that moment.

If the movie studios were intending to condemn him to this cruel twist of fate, he will kindly return the favour. He decides to manipulate the rule, using the very noose he will hang himself with, to hang his captors at the movie studio instead.


Thus, Jurassic Park was born.


At the premiere, the producers and studio heads attend the theatre with their wives and husbands, black tie, to the nines. Spielberg had selected a PG rating for the film, unsuspecting, they enter the theatre.

A grand opera theatre filled with fancy rich white people.

The film is shown to them. Their expectations are cruelly sideswiped.

Steven in his opera box, watches something other than the movie. He sits, twisted in his seat, watching the crowd. Watching the horror play over the sea of faces. Finally, as the movie ends, he find him.

The original producer.

His face appears set in rigor mortis. For the film, while sometimes frightening, represents the studios US$100 000 000 investment for a film that no one may want to watch.

He begins to see a $100 000 000 loss, and is terrified. He will lose his job for this, he will lose his livelihood. His sees the rest of his life in front of him; his wife will leave him for her personal trainer, kids will call him a loser to his face.

Steven watches him there, frozen, until the movie ends.

The lights slowly turn on.

The producer looks at the opera box, locking eyes with Steven.

A smile creeps across his face.


Cover image: https://images.app.goo.gl/vqr8imfs9AR13u7x8


Weeks go by, the movie is a success. Producer man’s life improves, he is promoted.

Producer man meets with Steven again, same boardroom.


Hi, thank you again for seeing me…. it’s been a rollercoaster few weeks.


That it has.


The movie is a raging success, I’ve been meaning to thank you.


Steven waits, an expectant silence builds between the pair.


I just have one comment, the theme of the film was not quite what we anticipated.

Steven meets producer with a piercing gaze.


Don’t ever fucking tell me how to make a movie ever fucking again.


And that's how I think it went down.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

By Ligma