There are two primary reasons Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny was made. One, because Indiana Jones is a popular brand in Disney’s arsenal that they haven’t exploited yet since acquiring LucasFilm; and two, because Harrison Ford -who’s always been especially fond of the character, really wanted to do it. Whether you like the movie or not, this is opaquely why it exists, and it’s a little bit cheaper (yes, even compared to Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) for this reason. Nobody was asking for it beyond arguably a geriatric man with a dream to play his greatest part one more time. And through all of the hype cycle of this movie, the lukewarm response to it’s trailer, the horrible reviews out of Cannes, and the more modest assessment as it hit press screenings, the one theme that has remained consistent is the observation that Ford has earned his last adventure as Indiana Jones.
And he very well might have, but it wasn’t an adventure that was particularly worth it. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is more detached and inessential than the last tacked-on extension of this franchise fifteen years ago -which for its baffling narrative and occasionally ill-advised technical choices, had a modest degree of character and craft. Ford won out the battle it would appear of recasting Indiana Jones -as was floated for years- but Steven Spielberg and George Lucas are ultimately just as necessary for bringing to life the fedora-wearing, action-savvy archaeologist. Dial of Destiny was helmed by James Mangold, a sharp and competent director who can adequately mimic the tone and storytelling rhythm of Indiana Jones, but doesn’t have Spielberg’s technique or his and Lucas’ artistic creativity. Though it’s an original story, a lot of the movie trades in visual and aesthetic reference points to earlier movies -until the end it doesn’t ever feel like the story is going anywhere new.
About that story: it begins in flashback to the end of the Second World War where Indy, played by a creepily de-aged, often CG-rendered and poorly ADR’d Ford, smuggles one half of an Antikythera device identified as Archimedes’ Dial out of Nazi Germany, pursued by scientist Jürgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen). Twenty-five years later in 1969, Indy’s goddaughter Helena Shaw (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) -whose father (Toby Jones) helped him retrieve the Dial- comes looking for it at the same time as Voller, now employed by NASA. Both seem to believe that the Dial if reassembled would unlock the secret to time travel. Of course this results in a globetrotting race for the other half of the ancient machine to prevent a rewriting of history.
Mangold tries his very best to get things back to basics in terms of an Indiana Jones narrative -in a way similar to how The Last Crusade was approached. Here Indy is once again fighting Nazis after a clearly defined MacGuffin with companions drawn from familiar archetypes and in a context that doesn’t so much veer into uncomfortable accidental racism. But in doing so it fails to find different, exciting ways to move along its plot and articulate its characters and action. The latter is a particularly notable point, as a couple of the action set-pieces feel too familiar in structure to those of movies past (especially the car chase from Raiders of the Lost Ark), but even where more original conceits show up, they are illustrated in very bland ways. Sequences like a horseback escape through a crowded New York Apollo parade and anti-war protest, a rickshaw chase in Tangier, and fights on a plane over Sicily are shot and edited in hectic configuration that obscures the action’s context and with little visual creativity that though I don’t doubt Mangold’s claim that they were created in real environments with real components, it doesn’t translate on-screen any more than the clear CG-contrived prologue.
The fact of Harrison Ford’s advanced age (he was seventy-eight during filming) is likely one factor behind some of this –the need to conceal his stunt double or necessary CG polish being of vital importance. It’s something the movie rarely acknowledges in a physical sense as Indy can still run, climb, crack the whip, and ride a horse into an oncoming subway train as well as ever. There is a natural weariness to the character, and the film tries to depict him with some pathos –his son died in Vietnam and his wife Marion left him in her grief, bearing out a lonely existence for the old man. And yet even with the idea of time travel and revisiting the past open to him, both in the literal and late-life crisis sense, the film does nothing remarkable with the character’s psychological state. There’s little depth to the people he interacts with either. In fairness, Waller-Bridge is pretty delightful and Helena’s characterization as an adventurer/black market dealer is very fun. But it doesn’t take much to peel away any subversiveness and render her a fairly muted new sidekick/daughter-figure. Also, she comes with a dull Short Round clone in the form of her child street thief partner Teddy (Ethann Isidore). John Rhys-Davies comes back as Sallah, though doesn’t join in the adventure; both Boyd Holbrook as a Nazi henchman and Antonio Banderas as a sea captain friend of Indy’s are wasted cameos by otherwise exceptional actors. And even Mikkelsen isn’t much of an engaging villain, as the movie shows less interest in the Nazi beneficiaries of Operation Paperclip than in a mere cheap plot to go back and win the Second World War for Germany. Though it is amusing that Voller retrospectively considers this failure to mean Hitler was simply not enough of a Nazi.
In classic Indiana Jones fashion, the villain’s plot ultimately succeeds, only to backfire on them horribly. And in this installment that involves time travel. The use of such a device is akin to the aliens of Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, in how it goes beyond the expected contours of this series’ reality –even if both things aren’t so much removed from the arbitrary magical properties of relics like the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail. But it very much feels like a gimmick, one that everyone in the audience can grasp easily, and this especially comes across where and how the movie finally employs it. It is a jarring journey into a different movie, and the choices made there, even in efforts to be earnest and for as rich as Mangold would like them to be, don’t feel adequately supported. It is the biggest gambit in a movie that often plays things safe and I respect that –and even the initial (though not committed to) ending it poses for Indy. But Indiana Jones playing with time travel is a misfire, and has the effect of being overly ambitious yet patently underwhelming.
Certainly it seems to be the film’s main haven for the outrageous budget afforded this diminished sequel –one that far outpaces any previous entry in this franchise and all but guaranteed the movie would flop. The Dial of Destiny does have its virtues, including in the more serious tenor Ford channels for the part –his love for being Indy shows through in every scene- and in a couple sequences that do capture the spirit of Indiana Jones in addition to recycling its beats and aesthetics. Several scenes are shot quite nicely by Phedon Papamichael. And of course it would be remiss not to mention John Williams’ score –far from his best across these movies, though sweet and charming- which is by his admission one of the final movie scores he will compose (he’s clarified that he’ll never turn down Spielberg but that otherwise he’s retired).
It is all the more sad though in light of these that Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is as uninspired and mundane as it is. A movie that merely gives the beloved hero a third finale with a story that doesn’t have the passion of past films, even where it puts in efforts to pay homage. Good for Ford that he got one more adventure out of this character. Maybe at last Indiana Jones can be laid to rest.
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