Even at their bravest moments, Lex and Tim spent the majority of Jurassic Park racking up psychiatry bills like skee ball tickets. After the first T. Rex attack, Lex babbles in a drainage pipe, while Tim is catatonic in a mechanized tree house. And sure, both of these kids do eventually enjoy a few chuckles, but at least the movie tried to show us how a normal child would spend the first several hours after a goddamned dinosaur attack stewing in a puddle of gibbering horror shit.
See, thanks to the flood of late sequels and remakes, we're now able to see the specific way modern films royally mishandle characters from the '80s and '90s. Look at the 1984 Terminator's Kyle Reese vs the 2015 Terminator's Kyle Reese:
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Paramount Pictures
"Nailed it!" -- a casting director
In 1984, Kyle Reese was wiry, desperate, and had PTSD flashbacks thanks to growing up as a feral child in the middle of an irradiated robot apocalypse. In 2015, Kyle Reese is a swole-up supermodel exchanging good-natured jabs with an aged robot dad who represents the waking hell of his entire childhood. At one point, both he and 1980s Sarah Connor travel to 2017 without exchanging a single moment of bewilderment to how mind-fuckingly different the world has become. Maybe this is the bar that's been lowered since superhero films defined destroying a space portal as cause for mild panic attacks, but we've reached a point where monsters and robots are so commonplace that even the fictional characters seem unfazed. The end result is films that absolutely don't stand the test of time, because once the audience is immune to the spectacle, all that's left is a bunch of lackluster mouthbreathers.
These people are supposed to be watching a man getting eaten by a monster.