Reflections on the Revolution in Isla Nublar, part two

This is the second of a three-part series of posts, titled “Reflections on the Revolution in Isla Nublar”, interpreting the movie Jurassic World. The whole series of posts in order is the following:

1. An extended look at the role played by clothing in depicting personal transformation in the movie.
2. An expansion of our analysis, from clothing through enclosures to social relations structured by power, understanding, and survival.
3. An examination of survival, evolution, rationality, and the (non-)distinction between the real and the virtual.
4. An epilogue defending my choice of title, and offering some final thoughts.

Last time, we took a very close look at some of the significant ways in which clothing works in Jurassic World. I will avoid diving into such detail this time around, as I have a vast range of topics to cover. (Need I say that this will be massively full of spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie?)

2. Enclosures

I’m thinking of enclosures fairly broadly here as any sort of covering that affords protection from the elements. In this sense, clothing is of course a kind of enclosure protecting human skin: the shedding of clothing is the discarding of a layer of insulation. But there are a number of other such enclosures in the film: the gyroball, for instance, literally encloses the two boys in a protective shell as they travel through the park—
even after they exit the protective enclosure (one more!) of the grasslands. In the jungle, they are attacked in the gyroball by the Indominus rex, whose teeth punch right through the gyroball. Indeed, the boys’ glass world is literally turned upside down and then shattered to pieces by the Indominus rex. This is such an obvious image that I trust I need to say nothing more about it!

Most of the enclosures in Jurassic World are designed to hold dinosaurs in, constricting them to different extents. As there is no way for humans to directly interact with the dinosaurs unless these barriers are somehow taken down, the logic of the movie demands that such enclosures all be taken down in one way or another. But the ways in which these enclosures are taken down are all different:

• Indominus rex tricks the humans into opening the gate through a masterful piece of subterfuge (indeed, one that would not have occurred to many humans in an analogous situation). That is, Indominus rex actively engineers the destruction of its enclosure
• The pterosaurs escape through the holes punched in the aviary’s dome by the Indominus rex and the helicopter. It is unclear how much of this was consciously planned by the Indominus rex and how much was accident.
• The Tyrannosaurus rex stays inside Paddock 9—passively—until BDH opens its gates. (An important difference between it and Indominus rex.)
• The velociraptors are released by humans from their cages, ostensibly in a way that would guarantee their being under control. (Yeah, right.)

In contrast to all these, there is one creature that does not escape its enclosure directly: the mosasaur. It stays in its watery home, happily feasting on any creature of land, sea, or air that is unfortunate enough to penetrate its enclosure. This behavior of the mosasaur tells us something valuable about the nature of an enclosure:

An enclosure is a membrane designed to seal off, as thoroughly as possible, hostile environments from individuals. In some cases, the individual to be protected is housed inside the enclosure (as in the gyroball); in others, the hostile environment is itself housed inside the enclosure. When this enclosure is eliminated, the chance of an individual being killed or seriously injured increase dramatically.

However, as we saw with the clothing last time, the insulation of individual from environment can in fact be seriously detrimental to their wholesome development. Recall that both BDH and IK remove their jackets before embarking upon the most dangerous parts of their journeys. The enclosure must be removed for the individual to undertake the terribly dangerous journey of self-transformation. Not all will make it—and this, of course, is one of the most powerful motifs of myth and literature: the overstepping of barriers, the transgression of a sacred bound, the undertaking of a life-threatening but also life-transforming journey by doing so.

This dangerous journey happens to multiple individuals in the movie:

• As we saw from last time, both IK and BDH remove their jackets before beginning the most dangerous parts of their journeys.
• CP’s dominance of the velociraptors is theoretical so long as he is up on the gangway yelling at them; only when he chooses to enter their enclosure to confront them is his alpha nature established.
• Indominus rex itself is emotionally and socially stunted due to its isolation from all other life inside its enclosure. It is of course terribly dangerous once it breaks outside this enclosure, but this is also how it manages to establish its own dominant position on the island. Furthermore, the outside world is also also terribly hostile to Indominus rex, and indeed ultimately fatal to it.

Note also that such a transformative journey does not take place for two individuals: control-room guy and the mosasaur. Neither undergoes any sort of development through the course of the movie.

But what is it about an enclosure that gives it this significance? The answer to this lies in seeing the partitioning effect of an enclosure in a different way: not as an insulation of an individual from a hostile environment, but as a demarcation of the world into different domains. The first way of seeing an enclosure continues to regard it as a physical barrier of insulation; the second crosses over into social, psychological, and theoretical realms of being as well. The hostility of an environment to an individual in this broader sense is the inability of that individual to function at its optimal level in that environment, and thus to run the risk of being eliminated from that space entirely.


3. Domains, Control, and Hierarchy

Thus do we make the transition from enclosures to domains of control. A domain is any space—physical, mental, political, institutional, even intellectual—where one or more individuals can undertake certain actions and be subject to other actions from other individuals in the space or from the space itself in some way. Most domains are unequal: there are some individuals who have more freedom than others to maneuver, whose actions are more likely to succeed, whose aspirations are more likely to be met. These are the alphas of those domains. As we should know, these are typically multi-level hierarchies: there are betas, gammas, and so on as well.

Now just because an alpha is alpha does not mean it is guaranteed to always succeed. There are situations in which non-alphas have prevailed over alphas, or have at least managed to make their grievances heard. We usually call such situations “revolutions”.

Once we have this conceptual tool in our kit, we can redraw our mental map of Jurassic World to align with these domains:

• The whole island is of course a domain, whose top dog (at least initially) is the corporation that owns it. The corporation is able to control the behavior not just of the dinosaurs, but also of the employees and of the visitors who enter the island. Its headquarters is the control-room. The control room, as its very name suggests, is designed to have top-down control over the whole island: to see everything and everybody, and to know what is going on. The head of the control room is thus the alpha of all of Jurassic World. Its shutting down thus indicates an overturning of the hierarchy of power on the island, a true revolution.
• The control-room itself is a domain, in which the alpha is Irrfan Khan (as the head of the corporation), and secondarily BDH. When CP tries to assert himself there, he is shot down explicitly for lacking control in that domain.
• The lagoon is entirely the domain of the mosasaur. Nothing more need be said about it.
• The air is the domain of the pterosaurs. The aviary that houses them is a human-built enclosure designed to prevent them from controlling the sky, because in the air they can outfly and outswarm all but the heaviest military gear.
• The science labs are ruled over by B.D. Wong. But here there appears to be conflict: the money for the lab comes from Irrfan Khan, but the tech and security comes from InGen, and the brains trust comes from BDW and his research teams. This power play is of course a big part of why things go wrong the way they do.
• Each individual on the island is also a domain, insulated from others by the physical enclosure of its skin and by the mental/psychological enclosure of its sense of individuality. When the corporation straps cameras onto its security forces and its velociraptors, it is this domain that they are violating. (And we will see more about screens and virtualization as a major theme later.)

Note well what an enclosure does: it partitions off one domain from another, so that the alphas of one domain are unable to extend their control beyond certain boundaries to other domains as well. This tells us something fascinating—and paradoxical—about enclosures: many are likely built by non-alphas! More precisely, individuals who are non-alpha in one domain construct enclosures around that domain so the alpha of that domain is constrained: humans built the huge walls around Indominus rex and the colossal gates of Paddock 9 for T. rex because they were terrified of their unrestrained might. But precisely because these non-alphas are now able to constrain the alpha, they gain ascendancy over it: they are no longer utterly subject to its whims. In this sense, only true alphas can build enclosures. This may be a true aporia (pun on “pore” intended), for I cannot think of a resolution to it.

Note also that domains have natural boundaries, regardless of any enclosures others may try to construct. These may be physical boundaries (like the surface of the water for the pterosaurs) or socially constructed boundaries (like the domain of a first date, in which the corporate controlling mechanisms of itineraries and domination are unacceptable). They may also be domains of knowledge, as in the case of the little brother who cannot but help recite facts about the world: he is supposed to be a genius, but he also has something Aspergersy about him. When the world stops following the boundaries of his facts and figures, he is no longer the alpha but must turn to his elder brother or to CP, his father-figure.

Domains have hierarchies of power, although these may be very fluid in practice. Those who possess more power can exert more control over others. All of this seems simple enough. But as with the case of BDH being made fun of for being controlling on the first date, there are clearly situations which are not governed by hierarchies. What might these be? And what is the counterpart of control here?


4. Familial Relations

There is a whole set of social relations in the movie ungoverned by hierarchies. They are not necessarily relations between equals, but they are marked by the absence of control (at least in their ideal form). These relations, broadly, are the kinds of relations between family members. (Society would also have relations between friends, but those sorts of relations are curiously underdeveloped in the movie, being at the most relations of collegiality.)

Although there may be some level of control between family members (younger siblings obeying elder siblings, parents getting kids to do things, etc.), the primary mode of interaction between them may be called trust or understanding. It is the recognition that we do not have power over the other person, but trust them to do the right thing—indeed, to treat them as persons.

Again, it is BDH who shows us the transition from domination to family. Her initial relationship with her nephews is marked by disengagement and a genuine confusion on her part: she is so used to dealing solely in terms of dominance and control that she is unable to adjust to the familial setting. Her tactic of using a hired hand to supervise the boys is precisely an attempt to manage the familial relation with a control mechanism—and this mechanism works about as well as can be imagined. Only when she abandons that tactic of control and embraces them as a part of her family do they also accept her and does she succeed in keeping them safe.

The Indominus rex stands at the opposite end of familial relations: it is a Kinslayer, a devourer of its own sibling. It is cursed to interact with the world solely through the relation of dominance.


5. Conjugal Relations

The line between familial relations and relations of dominance is not sharp but fuzzy: unhealthy familial relations show aspects of control (as in BDH’s initially distorted relation with her nephews). But there is also a certain kind of pseudo-familial relation that can develop outside a family as well (although in some cases they end up developing into familial relations): We may call these “conjugal relations” to be polite (this is a family-friendly blog after all).

So much has been written and pontificated about sex and power that I really have nothing to say on the matter. In the context of the movie, though, the closest we get to any depiction of, um, conjugation is when CP and BDH share a kiss after she saves him. The biological drive towards conjugal relations is part of the survival instinct (at the level of the genes, at least); in this case, their shared intimacy was because they survived by sticking together. This is also the last spoken line in the movie: “We stick together … to survive.” (Or something like that.)

BDH and CP’s success in this matter contrasts with the failure of three others:

• The elder brother, who cannot bring himself to say “I love you” to his sweet back home, and who forgets about her selfie when he sees the mosasaur (entirely forgivable in my books!). He is clearly longing for female companionship throughout the movie, but never gets to say even a word to a girl. He doesn’t even get to rescue one, as his attentions are all focused on keeping his brother alive.
• Control-Room Guy, whose attempt to be heroic in the eyes of Control-Room Girl come to naught because she is already in a relationship. He comes in for a kiss, is left stranded, and gets an awkward hug for his troubles. Again, this is in keeping with his being the opposite pole of CP: he doesn’t get the kiss that CP does, but that’s also because he doesn’t actually do any saving-the-damsel. Indeed, he vanishes literally into darkness when he turns off the lights in the control-room.
• Our favorite Indominus rex. While other dinos love to do it, or so CP says, Indominus rex seems to lack the mating urge entirely. Even its gender is unspecified (unless I missed something). Its sole perspective on the world is dominance.

The conjugal relation lies at the heart of evolution: it is how genes are transmitted from one generation to another, and sexual reproduction creates the genetic variation needed for evolution. But deciding who gets to mate with whom is a problem of control, and is thus subject to the usual issues of hierarchy and power.

There is a lot more that remains to be said about the movie, as we have only touched upon the margins of its broadest themes: evolution, nature versus nurture, real versus virtual. Those issues must therefore be left for the third (and hopefully final) post in this series.