Raiders of the Lost Ark shows the appeal of Indiana Jones right in the opening scene.
We watch him skillfully navigate traps that have killed other people. He saves his companion’s life. He reaches his objective. The man obviously knows what he’s doing.
He also knows he can’t simply take the idol; he needs to replace the weight to avoid activating further traps. So, he spills some sand from a pouch, carefully getting the weight just right, and then he makes the switch and claims his hard-earned prize.
And the pouch of sand sinks, because Indiana Jones screwed up.
The temple’s death traps kick into high gear. Indy escapes—barely, but with the idol. And he’s immediately forced to hand it over to a rival. To compound the indignity, native tribesmen chase him all the way back to his plane. He gets aboard in the nick of time, only to freak out upon finding a snake in the cockpit.
In this one scene, we learn that Indiana Jones is exceptional and also that he’s still very human. He both succeeds and fails, and he’s responsible for both outcomes. It wasn’t that everything was going perfectly for him until someone else screwed up and created the need for a daring escape—no, he got the weight wrong, and he couldn’t find a way out of handing over the idol. But he did retrieve that idol from the temple, which hardly anyone else could have accomplished.
Indy isn’t an especially complex character, nor does he need to be, not in adventure serials like these. But he still needs some layers. He can’t be a supremely confident, perfect adventurer who gets everything exactly right. He can’t coast on luck either. He needs to be highly skilled and competent, but he also needs to continuously show effort.
Indiana Jones needs to sweat, breathe, and bleed. And he does. Frequently.
Raiders also has that classic moment where a flashy swordsman picks a fight with an exhausted Indy. We’re led to anticipate a well-choreographed duel between the two. Instead, Indy just shoots the guy. It’s an amusing subversion. But really, he shoots because he’s exhausted.
A drawn-out fight was originally planned, but Harrison Ford suggested the shooting resolution because he was ill and it made sense for the movie. Whatever the real-world rationale, Indy is clearly spent in that moment. We watched him get to this point, and we can confirm it at a glance.
He knows he’d lose that fight, and it’s been established that he has the gun on him. So he cuts this Gordian knot with a bullet.
It’s not merely a pragmatic choice; it’s a human one. The only reason for a drawn-out fight would have been to excite the audience, but there’s already plenty of excitement in the movie. The moment works as comedy, and it works for the character.
Later, Indy and Marion get trapped with a bunch of snakes. They’re both terrified, and we already know about Indy’s snake phobia. Despite his fear, Indy uses his head to save Marion and escape.
Courage means nothing without fear. Skill means nothing without effort. Victory means nothing without pain. And Indiana Jones would have been nothing without this mix.
Being awesome is not enough. A smug, flawless action hero would not have earned a single sequel, let alone four spread out across decades.
If Disney/Lucasfilm ever tries to launch a “new Indiana Jones,” they should pay attention to what worked in the original movies. Barring a full reboot, that “new Indy” would need to be a different character, given that he’s not a Time Lord or anything of the sort, and this character would still need to be every bit as human and vulnerable as Indiana Jones. Otherwise, any “new Indy” will fall flat.
Dial D for Destiny
I had intended to skip Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. After all, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull killed my interest in any further Indiana Jones adventures, but curiosity got the better of me, as it tends to.
Some parts were entertaining, but one major creative decision ruined it for me: Indiana Jones has become a grumpy, miserable old man who initially doesn’t want to do anything. We’ve already seen this sort of thing in Star Wars. I didn’t like it there, and it’s not something I ever wanted to see with Indiana Jones either. And while he does get his moments to shine, the movie never fully recovers from this decision. (As always, though, if you enjoyed the movie, I’m glad you did.)
What if, instead, we met an old, retired Indy who hates retirement because he so loves the life he led? Despite the fact that at his age he really should stay retired, he latches onto the slightest excuse to leap back into action. But his body doesn’t cooperate like it used to. Everything is so much harder, so he needs to be that much smarter. It’s an invigorating challenge, but it also keeps getting him into trouble. Along the way, he learns to put his glory days behind him and leave the past in the past. Something like that could have struck a fun tone and landed somewhere much closer to the excellent Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
In any case, though, Dial of Destiny’s runtime was much too long. Too many movies this year are sailing well past the two-hour mark. When you factor in trailers and pre-movie commercials, it’s too much. The occasional movie like Avengers: Endgame can earn an extended runtime—ultimately, it’s not the minutes; it’s the mileage. This movie, however, would have benefited from some tightening.
After watching the new movie, I revisited the original three. It had been a long time, at least a decade, so I’m pleased to say that Raiders of the Lost Ark and Last Crusade hold up as near-perfect action/adventure movies.