"It could have been worse [guys]...ALOT worse."

For no reason in particular, Nat and I recorded Jurassic Park after it ran several times on AMC. And, with Natalie passed out by about the time they feed the raptors with that unfortunate cow about a half hour in, I watched every. single. minute of the 1993 Steven Spielberg classic.

I remember this being one of my familiy's "movies," the ones you and your siblings watch over and over and memorize entire sequences and quote all of the time. Eighteen years later, I was nostalgic to watch it, but also anxious to see how it held up in the face of such massive leaps in special effects technology.

Does it hold up? Well, afterwards I arrived at a sort of meaningless mixed verdict of it does and/but it also doesn't.

With the glaring exception of the brachiosaurus scenes (particularly when Grant, Tim, and Lex are in the tree feeding it, and the whole scene has this sort of "Never Ending Story" with giant puppets quality to it), the dinosaurs actually look remarkably realistic. Word was that the combination of the tropical storm hitting the park and Dennis Nedry's little puppet show actually made for a frustrating T-Rex scene for Spielberg and co.-- the rain kept making the robotic dino glitch. If you're looking for it you notice, but it's not so bad you reinstate your disbelief.

What seems more unbelievable, actually, is the dialogue between the characters. Movie scripts of this era seem to have this unabashed on-the-nose quality, almost like they were originally written (in some spots) to be middle school plays. It is very obvious when we're supposed to laugh, when we're supposed to be in awe, etc. (Other examples include "A Few Good Men" and the entire first 3 seasons of "Frasier." Yes, I have watched both of these examples, since you asked.)

In "Jurassic Park," examples of this obviousness abound. How about when Grant and Sadler see the dinosaurs for the first time, and Hammond takes the opportunity to say, "Dr. Grant...my dear Dr. Sadler, welcome. to Jurassic Park..." ?

Or, for example, when Hammond is griping about how upsetting the initial tour went (2 dinosaurs weren't even visible from the cars, 1 was sick, and a tropical storm cut it short), and Samuel L. Jackson looks at him gravely/knowingly and says "It could have been worse, John...ALOT worse." Is that enough foreshadowing for you? And really, it's an odd thing to say because unless Sammy L. knew beforehand that Dennis Nedry was going rogue for a rival research firm and in order to do so was planning on shutting down the power to the park, releasing the dinosaurs to wreak havoc on everybody, then (really) the tour was actually going as badly as could be (at that point) imagined.

If you were going for maximum dramatic effect, when would the hiding raptor in the power compound pop out at Dr. Sadler? Would it be while she's walking through the compound in the dark, or while she's flipping on the circuit breakers? Or would you have the raptor reveal itself/its intentions of eating Dr. Sadler the exact instant after she's switched on all the power and has just said to Hammond via walkie-talkie: "Mr. Hammond, I think we're back in business!" Apparently the scientists at JP genetically engineered the dinosaurs with an acute sense of timing.

In a way, though, the dialogue is endearing. Like it's the perfect companion to such an outlandish, larger than life plot. And at least the acting is first rate, with career performances from Sam Neil, Richard Attenborough, and Jeff Goldblum. Rewatchability remains through the roof.

With so many older movies looking dated, and Jurassic Park closing in on two decades, honestly it could look worse...ALOT worse.

Ode to the I/O Forehand

Sport is full of beautiful "things." Karl Malone's high screen for teammate John Stockton, and then his subsequent roll to the basket was a beautiful thing. The 5-4-3 double play (where the grounder is fielded by the third basemen before being wheeled to second, then slung to first) is a beautiful thing. And a touchdown pass up the seam on 3rd and 17 is a beautiful thing.

Tennis, like all other sports, is full of such beautiful things, none more aesthetically striking than the inside-out forehand.

A forehand is considered inside-out whenever it's struck from a player's backhand half of the court (ad if the player is a righty) and travels across the court to the opposing player's ad side.  So basically (if you're having trouble wrapping your mind around it), the person hitting an I/O forehand SHOULD have hit a backhand, but "ran around" the shot to hit it with his forehand (since most players get more stick (a.k.a. oomph) on their forehand shot than their backhand), and angled it steeply back to the opposite side of the court.

In order to get away with this, you've got to really pull the trigger, because running around the shot means you've moved so far off the court that anything coming back will be (most likely) for a wide open winner.

Roger Federer hits the most eviscerating I/O forehand in the history of tennis. See for yourself. My favorite part of this video is the awe that soaks all of the color commentary. E.g. at the 1:50 mark Fed plays a point against Marat Safin and, after a sizeable rally Safin makes the irreversible mistake of clipping the net, giving Roger a short ball to run around. The whole world knows what's coming--and so the commentator says (with 100% confidence, and more to himself than anyone at home, really) "see ya." It's phenomenal. Immediately afterwards is an apt tweety bird comparison.

Or how about at 2:59? When Federer (obviously zoning) runs around James Blake's SERVE (!) and murders it inside-out? It catches the commentator seriously off guard: "Oh look out!"

Videos like these are a lot of fun, especially watching the younger Fed in his prime, playing with a style that left the rest of the tennis world in absolute can't-find-the-words-shock.