Ah, popular culture in the blessed ‘90s. A world where Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were our heroes, Michael Jordan reigned supreme, kids rollerbladed through the streets in a flying V formation, people chanted “Rufio” and Jonathan Taylor Thomas actually existed. And then there was Jurassic Park. Anyone around in the early ‘90s can indeed recall being constantly bombarded with dinosaur imagery and merchandise at every turn, or piecing together that goddamn glow-in-the-dark T. Rex model bone by bone. And it was kind of awesome. Prehistoric hysteria ruled.
But now it’s 2016, the kids have all grown up, and Hollywood’s recent attempt to revive our collective Jurassic Park memory through the latest Jurassic World film left those initially-eager punters kind of jaded. So how would Jurassic World: The Exhibition stack up in the eyes of a near 30-year-old adult, who struggles to identify the visual differences between a Brontosaurus and a phallic looking tree trunk? Did I need to swallow the mysterious tablet I’d found in the toilets of The Tote the night before to feel the same sense of exhilaration I would’ve felt if I was attending this exhibition as a kid? All I know is this: when I’m standing in the Melbourne Museum lobby, dead sober, and a nine-foot tall Velociraptor races toward me snarling and snapping its jaws in my face, I’m legitimately frightened. Suddenly, the deeply buried memory of six-year-old me in the cinema howling in sheer terror during Jurassic Park became far too real. This was wild.
Before we embarked on our journey, we make a quick pit stop at a green-screen and awkwardly pose for a photo, before we board a ship destined to Isla Nublar. Once we depart the ship, the gates open into Jurassic World. There’s something about stepping inside Jurassic World: The Exhibition that makes you feel a little giddy inside. It’s this curious mix of childhood nostalgia coupled with genuine excitement at the prospect of facing gargantuan animatronic dinosaurs that elicits a bizarre adrenalin rush.
This rush intensifies as we encounter the first dinosaur on our voyage – the towering Brachiosaurus, who swings her big old neck around and munches down on some fake trees. Good start. Then we meet a sweet little Pachyrhinosaurus, who pokes his head in and out of the foliage to say hi and just generally act cute. As we shuffle through Jurassic World, we get to “nawww” at the Triceratops and her baby and shove our hands into a pile of freakishly warm dino droppings. We then step inside John Hammond’s Creation Lab, where we view dinosaur eggs and adorable newborns in their incubators and get schooled on Hammond’s genetic engineering process.
Chunks of solidified amber containing tiny mosquitoes adorn the walls as we head toward the Tyrannosaurus Rex Kingdom. Now shit’s getting real. It’s clear we were lulled into a false sense of security by those delightful herbivores, because now we’re in a dark room and there’s nothing around but you and him and a van. A thunderous roar crashes overhead and this enormous fucking T.Rex emerges from the shadows and pushes things around with his nose. The child within is freaking balls, and you realise there’s no way in hell you’d bring anyone under the age of seven into this room. Round of applause Jurassic World – you’ve successfully perpetuated the Hollywood legend of the T.Rex being the ultimate carnivorous villain and supreme leader amongst all the dinosaurs.
We then wander on through to The Gyrosphere, where we get to hang out with a terrified Stegosaurus and its frightening companion. There’s lots of loud noise and flashing lights and general dino panic. And that’s it. While that inner child is doing star jumps because Jurassic World: The Exhibition was a thrilling experience, it’s abundantly clear to the near 30-year-old adult that the multi-bazillion dollar Jurassic Park behemoth is as strong as ever, more than 20 years on.
BY CARA ATHENA
