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Based on Michael Crichton’s 1990 novel of the same title, Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993) was written for the screen by Crichton and David Koepp and produced by Universal Pictures. It is one of the very few pre-2000 films ranking in the top fifty highest-grossing films of all time1 and has been described as “a feminist masterpiece” (Fisher, 2014: 206) on account of the active and powerful roles played by its only two female characters, Dr Ellie Sattler and Lex Murphy. Indeed, the reimagining of these characters is one of the most complex transitions to take place in a 20^th-century book-based family feature, as both downgrading and upgrading strategies are at work. As in the case of Mary Poppins, there are plot simplifications, some of which are due to technical reasons, as it would be difficult to fit all the adventures that take place in a four-hundred-odd-page book into one single family feature. Some others are not so easy to account for. For example, the novel initially recreates a rather feminised atmosphere, with a series of female characters playing essential roles in smaller background plots: Dr Roberta Carter and the midwife Elena Morales, used to introduce the narrative framework of raptors’ attacks outside the island; Tina Bowman, the girl who tells the doctors about the bird-like creature that bit her – a main feature of the dinosaurs both in the book and in the film; Alice Levin, the technician who identifies Tina’s drawing as that of a dinosaur, contesting Dr Stone’s interpretation; and Dr Ellie Sattler, whose role is rather important in the first half of the book. With the exception of Tina (who is the basis for a much less significant character in the 1997 sequel) and Ellie (who is also key in the 1993 production), these female characters do not appear in the film. In this way, the initially feminised atmosphere of the book is substituted for by a masculine narrative framework in the film that places the focus on the men working in the park and the men working in the mine. This is, nevertheless, counteracted in the film by its complex treatment of Ellie and Lex.

As stated above, Ellie plays a central role in the first half of the book. Furthermore, her relevance in the story is not relational: she is introduced as a paleobotanist whose relation to male characters is exclusively professional. In fact, male characters who patronise or objectify her are disparaged: Bob Morris, the lawyer from the Environmental Protection Office who “gapes” at her (Crichton, 1990: 38); Donald Gennaro, the lawyer who makes the sexist assumption that Dr Sattler is a man (Crichton, 1990: 73) and then shows an interest in her (Crichton, 1990: 195); Dr Ian Malcolm, the mathematician who makes a patently inappropriate comment about her looks (Crichton, 1990: 83); and Tim, John Hammond’s grandson, who is distracted by her legs (Crichton, 1991: 108,109). Also, Ellie is introduced as a strong and independent character (Crichton, 1990: 38), and she is shown to be a hard-working, intelligent and valued professional working side by side with Dr Alan Grant (Crichton, 1990: 48, 55, 61–62, 66, 72–73, 97, 99, 102, 183), knowledgeable about her field and articulate (Crichton, 1990: 38–39, 48, 50–51, 52, 100, 139, 180–183), and inquisitive (Crichton, 1990: 51, 132, 133, 135, 194). However, as the novel progresses, the character is reduced, both quantitatively and qualitatively, to very few interventions and a caring role (Crichton, 1990: 267–268, 279, 281, 351–352, 360); she becomes less knowledgeable (Crichton, 1990: 233); her suggestion to follow the compys in the middle of the storm seems careless (Crichton, 1990: 235); her skills are reduced to being able to decipher crackly messages on the radiophone (Crichton, 1990: 252); it is emphasised that she is Alan’s student (Crichton, 1990: 271), which contrasts the academic and professional status she is given in the first half of the novel; although she is good at distracting the raptors (Crichton, 1990: 369–370, 372–374, 375), she ends up being tricked by them (Crichton, 1990: 385–386); and she is ignored by Tim (Crichton, 1990: 428). In sum, in spite of very few epiphanic moments, such as her guessing of where the raptors’ nest is (Crichton, 1990: 431), she becomes dispensable in the second half of the book.

In the film, Ellie undergoes some downgrading. For example, her relevance for the story is made to depend on her romantic relationship with Alan. This is an important aspect of the film’s hidden agenda precisely because their romantic relationship is not even the focus of the main plot: it is, as in the case of other hinted heterosexual romances (Mary Poppins, Jumanji) a given that serves as the backdrop of the main storyline. Moreover, this romantic relationship is made explicit from the very first scene (in which Ellie puts a bandana around Alan’s neck and he subtly feels her bum) and at several points throughout the film, from beginning (Ellie is shown to be very keen to have children and insists on making Alan more receptive to the idea; there is a slight rivalry between Alan and Ian as the latter flirts with her) to end (the way Ellie looks at Alan next to the children in the helicopter). Making female characters relational is a common strategy in blockbusters. In Jurassic Park, this transformation is uncalled for and perpetuates the idea that the reason why women are present in the story and their relevance in it depend on the kind of relationship they hold with men, and that heteronormativity is the dominant, assumed and natural realm of family films (Martin, Kazyak, 2009).

At the same time, Ellie’s character is also upgraded in the film. To begin with, unlike in the novel, she is not Alan’s student, although his academic and professional status is clearly above hers (this is made clear by the differences in their interventions and their body language both at the excavation site and in their first meeting with John Hammond). Also, she is not only knowledgeable, articulate and a valued professional (John states she and Alan are “the top minds” in their field), but she is also a much more active, empowered and independent character in the film. When hell breaks loose in the park, she does not stay in the lodge to take care of Ian, but rather she goes out to do things: she becomes a doer, a problem-solver and a dinosaur-fighter, all of which are male prerogatives in the novel. Indeed, in the film she does the things Donald Gennaro does in the novel: she is the one to venture out with Robert Muldoon to look for the kids and, later on, to get the park’s power back on. And she is the one who actually restores the power in the park. Not coincidentally, the character has been described as “a pioneer for female characters in monster/action/adventure blockbusters. She handles herself in the face of the dinosaurs better than most of the male characters, and does so as a brilliant, strong and confident super-woman” (Fisher, 2014: 206). Her depiction in the film though is far from perfect patriarchal constructions such as Mary Poppins or Catwoman, coming closer to a feminist reinterpretation of the character.

Hers are also the film’s famous feminist lines, which are not in the novel: “Dinosaurs eat man… Woman inherits the earth” and “We can discuss sexism in survival situations when I get back” (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 45:15, 1:37:25). Finally, she is the one to openly confront John Hammond about his crazy venture. Here there is an interesting swap. In the book, it is Ian that mansplains scientific discovery to Ellie, doing a sort of ecofeminist critique of scientific advancement, equating scientific discovery and rape, and confronting Ellie as a representative of this: “you don’t restore the land after you dig?” (Crichton, 1990: 329). This leaves her dumbfounded and not very articulate: “There’s no money, I guess…;” “Well, we’re just working in the Badlands…;” “Ellie said nothing;” “You want to turn back the clock?” (Crichton, 1990: 329). In the film, Ellie becomes a much more aware character, closer to Ian’s position but making use of a more composed tone and cogent arguments when confronting John: “The question is, how can you know anything about an extinct ecosystem? And, therefore, how could you ever assume that you can control it?” (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 37:00). The issue about the poisonous plants in the park disturbs Ellie in both the book and the film; however, only in the film does she dare tell John about it: “You have plants in this building that are poisonous. You picked them because they look good” (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 37:05). Finally, she acts as an eye-opener for him: “You’ve never had control. That’s the illusion. I was overwhelmed by the power of this place, but I made a mistake too. I didn’t have enough respect for that power, and it’s out now” (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 1:27:35).

Regarding Lex, in the novel she is a truly obnoxious whiny eight-year-old child whose actions often put her and others in danger. In the film, however, she takes on some of her brother Tim’s traits: she is between 12 and 14 and the oldest of the two siblings, and she is also a computer geek. Her combination of features throughout the film is somewhat startling though. In spite of her being the oldest of the two, she is also clumsier and more fainthearted than her brother: she thinks the big wooden doors to the park will not open (“Are we gonna hit that?”) (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 41:33); she is fearful of and disgusted by the prospect of the tyrannosaur eating a goat (“He’s gonna eat the goat!?”) (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 45:53); she falls over and has to be picked up by Alan; she is traumatised by the lawyer leaving the vehicle (she keeps repeating “He left us, he left us”) (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 1:14:52); she flashes the torch at the tyrannosaur and cannot turn it off after Tim asks her to, causing the attack; her competitive attitude when climbing first a tree and then a fence seems petty, considering the age difference between them; in a rather childish way, she calls the brachiosaurs “monsters” (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 1:23:05) and Tim has to explain to her what a herbivore is; she is rather inarticulate (the only name she can find for carnivores is “the other kind” and “meat-osauruses”) (Kennedy, Molen, Spielberg, 1993: 1:23:15, 1:34:36); when she finally gathers the courage to stroke the brachiosaur, she ends up covered in snot from the dinosaur’s sneeze, which serves to further ridicule her; and, even when she takes the lead in the kitchen and tries to save her brother, it is Tim who manages to lock one of the raptors up in the freezer. It is only towards the end of the film that Lex is characterised in a more positive light, as she is the only one with the necessary computing skills to reboot the system, making it possible to set up the security system again and call for help (it is Tim who does that in the novel). In spite of this, and unlike in the case of Ellie, the combination of downgrading and upgrading strategies does not seem to work very well for Lex: she is presented throughout as an annoying, frightened and clumsy character whose redemption at the end is more a token gesture than a genuine attempt at upgrading the character and giving her a nobler role in the film.

As has been shown, combining both downgrading and upgrading mechanisms, Jurassic Park offers a complex analysis of secondary female characters in their passage from book to film. This is uncommon in blockbusters and family films, often characterised by plot simplification, a smaller number of secondary characters and the use of downgrading strategies for female characters. This is possibly due to two factors: on the one hand, Jurassic Park is one of the very few examples in which both the book and the screenplay were written by the same author2, and in which there is a woman screenwriter, Malia Scotch Marmo, who has been said to be responsible for making Ellie and the kids “more assertive” (McBride, 2011: 418). On the other hand, the book’s and the film’s releases were closer in time. This is also true of, for example, Big Fish (book 1998; film 2003), where secondary female characters also fare a bit better in the film than in the book. In a way that may seem contradictory, the need to modernise and update the gender politics of a story seems to be felt as more pressing the closer the dates of the releases. As the following section shows, the use of an older text brings about issues of fidelity and the opportunity to perpetuate anachronistic gender politics.