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INDIANA JONES and the KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL
Whatever your personal opinion on popcorn movies during modern Cinema’s second golden era (that being the mid 1980’s through the late 1990’s), it’s a safe bet that some of your fondest film-going memories include the groundbreaking leaps in storytelling and often soul swelling emotive pallets of Steven Spielberg.
From Jaws to E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (speaking now of course of the purist, unmolested version of the latter) and on up through the first Jurassic Park endeavor, the Silver screen, where this type of fare is concerned, has never shone as brightly. It would seem, however, that the turn of the century has left that heyday pulverized limply in its wake, and we are now left with merely a thoughtless, sloppy and poorly executed caricature in the guise of a once iconic series of films that once upon a time were able to suspend disbelief, and take you on an episodic adventure like no other.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is so bad, so egregiously pitiful and on so many levels, I scarcely know even where to begin.
While I, yes, happen to be an ardent fan of the franchise ( I hated Last Crusade more or less, but now after KOTCS, I consider it on much higher ground) I’m not going to take the fan-boy approach one might expect. Because, as you may or may not know, I also happen to be a professional in the Entertainment Industry, and have a practical knowledge of how things work and why from concept to finished product, as it were. So, while not entirely objective, my review will be adhering to at least the rudimentary rules of thumb as to why this farce should be shit-canned as a truly sad attempt to produce an otherwise very possible worthy successor to and at the very least moderately adequate follow up for the 3 previous adventures of Indiana Jones…
First, I am not going to address any of the situational plot-points here. Not because I don’t want to spoil it for those who have yet to see it, but because it doesn’t matter. The plot was a workable one, though one of a couple of roads they could have taken better. Personally, a more direct ( and far less cornball, low-brow and obvious humoristic incursion) and sincere approach dealing with a begrudgingly set in his ways Older Indy, being pulled in to a last impossible adventure would be something that on the whole would have worked a lot better, and certainly in a more respectable fashion. I didn’t write it, however, so I am going to rely on what was given, not what could have BEEN given where the basic storyline is concerned. I will instead dwell on this travesty in an all around, technical and actual fashion. And let me state, I was fully prepared for this film to go either way. I thought however, that it would be at least as good if not better than The Last crusade. And no, I was never expecting it to come anywhere close to Raiders. That film stands alone as a cinematic masterpiece and seamless use of celluloid…
From the opening sequence of KOTCS, I knew there was going to be trouble. Crazy, hit-or-miss, fuzzy-creature obsessed George Lucas’s penchant for the obviously ridiculous is the first vomitous mass that belches forth from the screen and squarely into our concession-filled laps with his painfully, clearly usurped-over-Spielberg Directorial choice of cross-dissolving from the (classic, mind you) Paramount Logo, into, sigh, a Prairie Dog mound…complete with erupting Prairie dog. Wow. Well, at least it didn’t have Jar Jar Binks bursting forth screaming whatever the hell he screams ad nausium, given whatever situation he happens to be in. The fact remains, however, that these two numb skulls; one a former Directing and Producing great in the genre of the popcorn event flick (and sometimes even the heavier fare) and the other, a relatively lucky geek that thankfully hit just the right tone on what would become one of the most successful and endearing modern day myths of a generation, would choose for our first reaction to the re-visiting of the legendary world of Indiana Jones, a painfully amateur attempt at a cheap laugh, rather than something worthy of the opening shot.
This would be the running thematic afterbirth for the entirety of the film. Cheap, obvious attempts at wink-wink humor one might find on the first draft of a script by a wannabe film maker that should instead be seeking long-term employment in the fast food industry. When the collective forces put together for this film’s genesis weren’t being woefully inadequate, nay, insulting to the task at hand in terms of ideas for this 4th adventure, they were dropping the ball elsewhere well into the physical production. Technically, this film is just plain sloppy. The editing (nothing less than atrocious), scene focus and timing and overall technique are so excruciatingly amateurish; I couldn’t believe I was watching. And as for yet another now former Great (that being John Williams), a more slapdash, audacious collection of rip offs of his own work could not be imagined. Nor could be (until I actually experienced it first hand) his half-gutted attempts at “scoring” the film by simply recycling bits and pieces from his previous installments to sort of just “fill in the blanks”. But even here, at the very basic least of what one would come to expect as Johnny’s bottom line, this guy lost his chops, seemingly unaware that there were a whole lotta’ quiet spots that should have been filled with something besides silence, and a gigantic mound (pardon the call-back) of places and cues that absolutely screamed for it.
Let’s now examine the cringe worthiness that has substituted itself for what we consider in former incarnations of the “Indyverse”, that phenomenon known as “acting”. Watching THE (in my opinion) former leading man in a role ( I deem this only as to the unfortunate placement of Harrison Ford under the now lost-to-the-wind directorial capabilities of Steven Spielberg, and in this unfortunate choice of character arcs which they plastered onto his on-screen alter ego of Indiana Jones) I not to long ago believed he could handle with unbelievable gusto and moxy, now deteriorate before my eyes as he spat forth looks of confusion, bewilderment and borderline senility (as if Stevo was literally off screen shouting, “Harrison…HARRISON, look over here and make your eyes go real wide like your surprised!”) was something I was not expecting. Nor was I prepared for. It was like watching a train wreck of Titanic proportions.
Truly, sadly, how the mighty have fallen.
Aside from this apparent loss of his basic ability to perform in the way we have all been used to in every film he’s ever done ( that being the “Fordian” method), Harrison seems also, and I guess it’s a result of the aforementioned phenomenon, to have forgotten completely who Indiana Jones was. This is not the same character, older or not. And I won’t even get into the completely odd way his looped dialogue in the opening sequence sounded. Almost otherworldly, and from another Actor entirely.
Karen Allen. God, how does one describe this performance other than desperate? Aside from the poorly written schoolyard banter between Marion and Indy, Ms. Allen is lucky she has her knitting business to fall back on. Once a high caliber performer of the classic variety, she is now another sad shell of her former self, amidst a cacophony of similar egg-wrappings.
I could go on about the uselessness of the character of Mac ( who I wanted to shoot myself (with bullets, not a super 16) about the time he pulled his 3rd switcharoo, Cate Blanchet ( who I love in everything else she’s ever done) and her, in turn, under utilized character arc, abilities and place as a pseudo-Villain, the cheese-ball wedding, the disappearing characters that served no other purpose than exposition, and the survival of just about any enemy Ruskie thrown from a moving vehicle to show that he/she didn’t die. The more common agreed upon infractions that even most die hard Indy fans will tell you they hated, such as the Tarzan swinging, the fuzzy monkeys, the smiling while driving off a cliff, etc.
But I won’t. I am tired of writing this review. Indiana Jones (as a furthering adventure franchise with what's been established in the three films prior) is dead. This film has no place among its predecessors. The one saving grace of the entire debacle was Shia Labeouf. The kid was solid, and out-classed everyone he happened to be on screen with. Even with this sorry excuse for a script, he made his scenes work, and I believe was the only one, not only trying, but capable.
For me, the one true Indy rode off into the sunset with his pals 19 years ago.
And he will be sorely missed.
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