Even if we’re a bit snooty about them, we should go down on our knees and thank heaven for movies like Jurassic Park and directors like Steven Spielberg who make them. They fill the cinemas, if only because the hype is virtually irresistible. And because they do so, hundreds of maniacs all over the world continue to finance films. But is this an example of a worldwide jackpot movie? Yes and no. Yes, because it delivers dinosaurs by the dozen, in as weird a fashion as have been seen on the screen before. And no, because the accompanying story, courtesy Michael Crichton, has little of the real imagination that made Spielberg’s E.T. and Close Encounters into the jackpot movies of their time. Technically, it works like a dream but, as a cinematic dream, it’s unmemorable. This may be because of its cardboard human characters, dwarfed by the assemblage of their prehistoric ancestors and serviced by a screenplay that makes the abortive mating calls of this weirdly asexual zoo seem eloquent in comparison.
What kind of park is this?, enquires Sam Neill. “Oh, it’s right up your alley”, says Richard Attenborough. More likely, though it has something to do with the development of the story which at no point engages us properly on the human level, except perhaps to hope that the kids and Neill’s grumpy scientist who learns to love them will finally escape from the grasp of the velociraptors chasing them. We’re looking at nothing but stunts, and they get tiresome laid end to en(d) Crichton’s book was scarcely much better but at least it had a convincing villain in John Hammond, Jurassic Park’s billionaire developer, whereas Attenborough’s approximation seems merely enthusiastically misguide(d) And Crichton’s warning of what might happen if we muck about with nature becomes weaker in the film.
What we actually have in Jurassic Park is a non-animated Disney epic with affiliations to Jaws which seems to amuse and frighten but succeeds in doing neither well enough to count. Its real interest lies in how Spielberg’s obsession with childhood now manifests itself in his middle age. It looks like being on automatic pilot — gestural rather than totally convinced but determined to remain the subject of analytical study. The whole thing, of course, is perfectly adequate fun once the ludicrously simplistic explanation of DNA has been traversed in Hammond’s costly futuristic, computerised den. Even I could understand it. Thereafter, the theme park’s creaky inability to deal with an ordinary old typhoon as its VIPs travel around hoping the investment will work, leads to predictable disasters, proficiently worked out but never truly frightening.
But then this is a film for children of all ages, except perhaps those under 12, and one shouldn’t expect sophistication on other than the technological level. Jurassic Park is more of a roller-coaster ride than a piece of real cinem(a) It delivers, but only on a certain plane. Even the breaking of the barriers between our civilization and a monstrous past doesn’t have the kick it could have ha(d)
Possibly one is asking for a different film which in the end would not have appealed across the box-office spectrum as well as this obviously does. But still one leaves it vaguely disappointe(d) All that work and just a theme park roars. It’s wonderful story, but told with more efficiency than inspiration — possibly a sign of the times, along with the merchandising spree which follows it so readily


When people who are talking don’t share the same culture, knowledge, values, and assumptions, mutual understanding can be especially difficult. Such understanding is possible through the negotiation of meaning. To negotiate meaning with someone, you have to become aware of and respect both the differences in your backgrounds and when these differences are important. You need enough diversity of cultural and personal experience to be aware that divergent world views exist and what they might be like. You also need the flexibility in world view, and a generous tolerance for mistakes, as well as a talent for finding the right metaphor to communicate the relevant parts of unshared experiences or to highlight the shared experiences while demphasizing the others. Metaphorical imagination is a crucial skill in creating rapport and in communicating the nature of unshared experience. This skill consists, in large measure, of the ability to bend your world view and adjust the way you categorize your experiences. Problems of mutual understanding are not exotic; they arise in all extended conversations where understanding is important.
When it really counts, meaning is almost never communicated according to the CONDUIT metaphor, that is, where one person transmits a fixed, clear proposition to another by means of expressions in a common language, where both parties have all the relevant common knowledge, assumptions, values, etc. When the chips are down, meaning is negotiated: you slowly figure out what you have in common, what it is safe to talk about, how you can communicate unshared experience or create a shared vision. With enough flexibility in bending your world view and with luck and charity, you may achieve some mutual understanding.
Communication theories based on the CONDUIT metaphor turn from the pathetic to the evil when they are applied indiscriminately on a large scale, say, in government surveillance or computerized files. There, what is most crucial for real understanding is almost never included, and it is assumed that the words in the file have meaning in themselves—disembodied, objective, understandable meaning. When a society lives by the CONDUITmetaphor on a large scale, misunderstanding, persecution, and much worse are the likely products.
Later, I realized that reviewing the history of nuclear physics served another purpose as well: It gave the lie to the naive belief that the physicists could have come together when nuclear fission was discovered (in Nazi Germany!) and agreed to keep the discovery a secret, thereby sparing humanity such a burden. No. Given the development of nuclear physics up to 1938, development that physicists throughout the world pursued in all innocence of any intention of finding the engine of a new weapon of mass destruction—only one of them, the remarkable Hungarian physicist Leo Szilard, took that possibility seriously—the discovery of nuclear fission was inevitable. To stop it, you would have had to stop physics. If German scientists hadn’t made the discovery when they did, French, American, Russian, Italian, or Danish scientists would have done so, almost certainly within days or weeks. They were all working at the same cutting edge, trying to understand the strange results of a simple experiment bombarding uranium with neutrons. Here was no Faustian bargain, as movie directors and other naifs still find it intellectually challenging to imagine. Here was no evil machinery that the noble scientists might hide from the problems and the generals. To the contrary, there was a high insight into how the world works, an energetic reaction, older than the earth, that science had finally devised the instruments and arrangements to coart forth. “Make it seem inevitable,” Louis Pasteur used to advise his students when they prepared to write up their discoveries. But it was. To wish that it might have been ignored or suppressed is barbarous. “Knowledge,” Niels Bohr once noted, “is itself the basis for civilization.” You cannot have the one without the other; the one depends upon the other. Nor can you have only benevolent knowledge; the scientific method doesn’t filter for benevolence. Knowledge has consequences, not always intended, not always comfortable, but always welcome. The earth revolves around the sun, not the sun around the earth. “It is a profound and necessary truth,” Robert Oppenheimer would say, “that the deep things in science are not found because they are useful; they are found because it was possible to find them.”
...Bohr proposed once that the goal of science is not universal truth. Rather, he argued, the modest but relentless goal of science is “the gradual removal of prejudices.” The discovery that the earth revolves around the sun has gradually removed the prejudice that the earth is the center of the universe. The discovery of microbes is gradually removing the prejudice that disease is a punishment from God. The discovery of evolution is gradually removing the prejudice that Homo sapiens is a separate and special creation.
For any natural number $k$, let $a_k = 3^k$. The smallest natural number $m$ for which \[ (a_1)^1 \times (a_2)^2 \times \dots \times (a_{20})^{20} \;<\; a_{21} \times a_{22} \times \dots \times a_{20+m} \] is: