Steven Spielberg

I am sitting in my office across the street from the back lot of Universal Studios, which houses Steven Spielberg and his amazing organization of filmmakers. My subject is his latest special-effects miracle, "Jurassic Park." My message is simple. Don't believe it. Don't believe the science, that is. It's as far-fetched as the premise behind "The Invasion of the Body Snatchers" or "E. T." or for that matter "Frankenstein." The problem is that it doesn't seem as far-fetched.

Video retailers love the post-Oscar period. They can get some mileage out of earlier movies on which this year's winners worked--movies that have been gathering dust in the back of shelves. In showcase spots at your local video store in the next few weeks you'll see the movies of winners Tom Hanks, Holly Hunter, Tommy Lee Jones and Steven Spielberg. Here's a guide to what to rent and what to avoid: Tom Hanks: Because he won for the grim "Philadelphia," fans may be geared to his dramas.

Spreading its praise between accessible, star-driven movies and a handful of challenging films, the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn. bestowed a leading seven Golden Globe nominations on Steven Spielberg's biography "Lincoln" while handing five nods apiece to Ben Affleck's international thriller, "Argo," and Quentin Tarantino's slavery revenge tale, "Django Unchained. " Even though HFPA voters nominated the demanding Osama bin Laden manhunt film "Zero Dark Thirty" in four categories on Thursday, including drama, they ignored the critically acclaimed Louisiana bayou drama "Beasts of the Southern Wild.

Steven Spielberg went to the movies Friday night to see his new horror creation "Jurassic Park." So did an estimated 9.6 million people who paid a record-devouring $48.5 million during the weekend to view the heavily promoted feature film that has unleashed a wave of dinosaur mania across the United States. The box-office gross is projected to be the highest for any movie in film history for a non-holiday weekend.

On the island of Malta in the Mediterranean Sea, Hollywood is building a submarine. When completed, the 400-ton, full-sized U-boat won't be able to dive beneath the water's surface, but it will withstand 9-foot seas and serve as the centerpiece in producer Dino DeLaurentiis' "U-571," a World War II thriller about U.S. forces who try to steal a top-secret decoding device from a German sub.

"Here we are again," says Tom Hanks, beaming broadly, "back in the place that has everything." Hanks has his tongue planted firmly in his cheek as he says this. Hatfield is an unlovely, medium-sized town 20 miles north of London with a faintly depressed air and few distinguishing characteristics. But what it does have is a disused aerodrome, a stretch of land that constitutes a dream back lot: On its 1,100 acres there's room to create several distinctly different sets.

Bayonne, N.J., has so far been spared an invasion from outer space. But the attack it suffers in Steven Spielberg's "War of the Worlds" is beyond familiar. Terrified residents rush through the streets covered in ash and dust; handmade missing-person posters line the sidewalks; commercial airliners fall from the sky, to be instantly scavenged by predatory news media; pieces of clothing rain down from above. The first major studio release to reference the Sept.

Yes, it has dinosaurs. But at its core Fox's new sci-fi epic "Terra Nova" is an environmental fable. And a pretty darned expensive one at that. In fact, even though it has no big-name stars raking in giant paydays, "Terra Nova" is probably the costliest TV show ever, with a two-hour pilot that reportedly ran nearly $20 million. This in a world where an hour-long network drama typically shells out about one-tenth of that sum for each episode. Part of the dough went to the labor-intensive special effects needed to create those magical prehistoric beasties, who alternately menace and beguile a family (led by Irish American actor Jason O'Mara and British actress Shelley Conn)

There' a war going on outside, but Steven Spielberg doesn't notice. Hunkered down in a tiny, tent-like dwelling, covered with hanging canvas on three sides, and with large boards leaning against its frame to afford protection from explosions, stray gunfire and flying rubble, Spielberg peers intently at four monitors. Each monitor bears a label above its screen with a cameraman's name: David, Shay, Mitch, Chris. After Spielberg yells "Action!"