FIELD TRIP: Discover the Dinosaurs (Chicago, IL)
- J. Karson Key
- Jul 29, 2015
- 6 min read
I guess that I should be happy that the Dilophosaurus didn't spit at me.
The Discover the Dinosaurs traveling roadshow has seemingly stopped in every city in America over the last few years—and almost every one of those cities, with only a few exceptions, has panned the exhibit for being aesthetically underwhelming, predictably over-priced, and scientifically misguided. I knew this going into the event. There was going to be no disappointment due to mismanaged expectations. However, a tiny, nostalgic part of me harkened back to one of those defining moments of my childhood—hell, my life—when my dreams came true and I saw full-sized dinosaurs for the first time. Oh, how I wish it would’ve remained dormant, deep in the confines of my psyche. The visual imagery of the print ads in the local paper is forever scorched into my mind—the copy heralding “Robot Dinosaurs Invade Dallas”. Somebody call Roger Corman. That sweltering hot day in 1988 at the now defunct Science Place at Fair Park helped solidify my love for these prehistoric beasts—and despite being clunky, lumbering, and wholly inaccurate from a paleobiological standpoint—they were the greatest things that I had ever seen. Who knew that twenty-five years later, the memories of these mechanized monsters—so important in my adolescence—would fool me into giving their supposedly enhanced descendants a whirl and, subsequently, waste an hour of my life.
As you can imagine, exhibitions of this ilk are designed to enthuse children and commandeer the checkbooks of their parental guardians. Discover the Dinosaurs is no different. If you want to enjoy the attractions outside of the static dinosaur models and their animatronic counterparts—it will cost extra. Being that I was rolling into the event sans child (as I am everyday), I had no interest in the Dino Dig, continuously-looped Dino Theater, Scavenger Hunt, Dino Coloring Station, giant inflatable slides, or face painting. However, I was tempted to hop on the back of a robo-ceratops for a quick photo opp as part of their Dino Rides offering. With the recent release of the global mega-hit Jurassic World and its concept of a dino petting zoo complete with children riding juvenile sauropods and ceratopsians, Discover the Dinosaurs might actually be a trailblazer with their “live action” option. I get the appeal—I really do; when I was six, if I could hop on the back of a juvenile Tyrannosaurus for a Polaroid moment, it would have taken a small army to stop me. In all honesty, I can’t comment on these aspects of the event since I didn’t engage with them—so, if you are on the fence about attending with your little ones, I would refer you to the volumes of online reviews citing them as a giant waste of money and time.
Discover the Dinosaurs instigates a dialogue with potential consumers wrought with fabrications right from the onset—front-and-center on their site it states that they are presenting “museum quality dinosaurs” and that they are based on the latest paleontological findings. My friends, this could not be further from the truth. Are all of them awful? Well, no. As I always say, a dinosaur altered by liberal artistic license to the point of non-recognition, is still the second best thing in the world—only behind their more realistic counterparts. But Discover the Dinosaurs does mindlessly butcher some of our most beloved behemoths of the Mesozoic.
The event has taken up residence at Exhibit Hall B at Navy Pier—so unless you know that it exists, you aren’t going to stumble upon it. There are a shockingly low volume of signs throughout the Navy Pier compound that call attention to this gathering of animatronic animals—it’s almost as if the proprietors at the Pier are embarrassed of what is to be found in Exhibit Hall B. As you enter the actual Discover the Dinosaurs area, a Jurassic Park-esque “welcome” gate predictably greets you. There’s some smoke and Vietnam-era camp netting for good measure—coupled with the Styrofoam doorway, it’s Legends of the Hidden Temple meets Apocalypse Now. As I crossed the threshold and looked to my right—I was slightly shocked at how open and vast the area was—and how empty. This was not a good use of negative space. The first dinosaurs on my tour were three static models lined up side-by-side: the obscure Late Cretaceous hadrosaur, Hypacrosaurus; the bipedal Dennis Nedry-killer from the Early Jurassic, Dilophosaurus; and finally, the Mongolian nester, Oviraptor. The trio is as random as could be—the connective tissue presumably being the fact that they didn’t fit in any of the other dioramas. However, this triumvirate of terror set the negative tone of the day—Hypacrosaurus was misspelled on the dinosaur’s information plaque (added an extra “c” to create the more menacing “Hypa-croc-saurus”, or “Hypa’ Croc”) and the fluffy Oviraptor was struck with a case of gigantism. The Dilophosaurus was overly bulky (the best model resides in Kenosha, WI at the Dinosaur Discovery Museum). I did enjoy the Oviraptor’s feathery coat, however, it would turn out to be the only feathers in the entire exhibit.
As I made my way to the main area with the full-fledge prehistoric scenes, the first stop included some beefy Pachycephalosauruses and their much smaller relative, Stygimoloch. Other than added mass, my major issue with the scene was the continued representation of the Pachys’ ramming of heads. Since this point is one of the most hotly debated hypotheses in Dinosauria—it would have been nice to see the dinosaurs engaging in flank-butting as opposed to head-on collisions. If anything, it would’ve mixed things up a bit and showed that the proprietors really did read about new news in the world of dinosaurs. As I progressed, I was treated to a pair of Triceratops in a scene with everyone’s favorite Cretaceous Era specimen—the plastic trash bag. Yes, they didn’t even bother to remove a black garbage bag from the setting. Triceratops deserves better. The subsequent staging was even more despicable. An undersized Carnotaurus, with coloring eerily similar to the infamous 1998 US Godzilla, was chasing down two Iguanodons that were protecting a ridiculously massive egg (Iggy must’ve had some birthing hips). They all look overly “lizardy”—oh yeah, and the species lived over 50 million years apart! Next on the tour was a duo of Jurassic giants—or, in this case, juvenile Jurassic giants. The iconic Stegosaurus was beautifully colored, however, it lacked its bony throat armor; the Chinese sauropod, Mamenchisaurus, did not sport its notable forty feet long neck—it was miniaturized for the exhibit, apparently. In the center of the hall, there was a full-sized Triceratops—however, the prominent brow horns were cartoonishly pointing skyward, as they should for the juvenile ceratopsian. Under the Triceratops was a shrunken Ankylosaurus. Mere steps from these two herbivores was a scene depicting a pack of Deinonychuses taking down a larger Iguanodon. The fleet-footed theropods were presented sans feathers and in the design of a Spielberg-imagined Velociraptor. This was a real shame. I think having these guys portrayed accurately would have resonated with many of the patrons—another miss.
To conclude my day, I moseyed on over to the collection of large carnivorous theropods from the Early Cretaceous. I recognized Spinosaurus, immediately. However, this was not the thirteen-meter colossus that I was hoping for—in fact, he was much, much more diminutive. I bit my tongue, as I desperately wanted to defend the honor of the planet’s largest land carnivore to whatever employee would listen. I didn’t have time to dwell on this heinous act because the creature standing next to him was bastardized in very much the same manner. The plaque stated Utahraptor—but it appeared as a featherless monster of fiction. I was so distraught; I couldn’t even appreciate the well-crafted Baryonyx that rounded out the display. To conclude my journey, I went face-to-face with Tyrannosaurus. The model isn’t terrible—it was just unsurprising. It was the same interpretation that haunts our movies and television programs. It was impressive, just not imaginative.
At the end of the day, if Discover the Dinosaurs would have simply hyped their event as a fun family option complete with an assortment animatronic dinos as decor, some neat activities for the kids, and a few accurate, wall-mounted dino facts mixed in for the hell of it—this field trip and review would have gone much differently. However, the marketing indicated to the public that these animatronic beasts were the best representations of our Mesozoic friends—and, simply put, they are not. Not even close. I guess that I should be happy that the Dilophosaurus didn’t spit at me.
The Super Official “Of A Mesozoic Mind” Rating (out of a possible 5 Public Domain Triceratops Heads)
Throughout the series, Of a Mesozoic Mind will partake in field trips to various dinosaur-related events and locales. As you can imagine, these educational treks will be more focused on Dinosauria and less on pop-culture—but, regardless, they will be super rad!
Tour dates for Discover the Dinosaurs can be found here.
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