Forget Skull Island, forget “One Million Years B.C.” and the Beast from 20,000 Fathoms: For the first time — ever —dinosaurs appeared on the big screen the way that they might actually have looked, looming up before us as the majestic primeval true-life monster lizards of our wildest schoolkid dreams. The result was an instant pop classic: a wide-eyed sci-fi fantasy that gets us exhilarated at our own fear. The premise of Michael Crichton’s 1990 novel (the fossilized DNA! the cloning!) makes it all feel preposterously possible, even though Crichton’s tale of a dinosaur theme park overrun by the ancient life forms it’s built to showcase provides nothing more than a solid, functional, rather prosaic storyline. Yet Steven Spielberg makes it all sing — and roar. His staging is pure beastie poetry, whether the characters are gawking at a towering brachiosaurus or dodging an army of velociraptors or zooming through the jungle to get away from a Tyrannosaurus rex that, with its frighteningly rapid horizontal waddle, is the greatest set of jaws since “Jaws.” “Jurassic Park” heralded a revolutionary new movie era — the age of CGI — but it is also, in hindsight, the last fantasy film made by Spielberg that provides a taste of the innocent awe that marked his ’70s and early-’80s touchstones (“Jaws,” “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial”). It’s not quite the work of art they are, yet it remains one of the great popcorn blasts of the ’90s: scary, wondrous, thrilling.