While watching “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny”, I tried to think of an appropriate analogy for the film. This is what I came up with: “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” is a bit like driving a beautiful vintage car that is past its prime, down to the local shops. It’s an initial thrill to climb in and feel the creak of the soft, worn leather and feel the engine growl as you turn the ignition. The occasional splutter or cough of the mechanism is excusable because the old girl is getting on and after all it’s part of her charm. But by the time the car lurches up outside the store, smoke hissing from the bonnet, the clutch howling and sweat pouring down your face because the air con is busted, somehow by that point the original period leather and the car’s sexy sleek lines don’t seem as exciting anymore. Instead you’re looking at the car with a mixture of pity and embarrassment, because there’s just enough there to understand why she was once something special, but more than enough to know that by now that she’s tired and probably just isn’t up to any more outings. In case it’s not obvious, Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones is the car.
He’s back… again. Harrison Ford has returned for his final run as his most famous on screen persona, Indiana Jones. Back during WWII, Indy and bumbling Oxford archeologist Basil Shaw (Toby Jones), successfully thwart a bunch of Nazis who were making out with an entire trainload of precious archeological artefacts and steal back one half of Archimedes’ Dial, an Antikythera device built by the ancient and legendary mathematician Archimedes (apparently not the snarky owl from “The Sword in the Stone”) that reveals fissures in time, allowing for the possibility of travelling through time. Jump forward to 1969, where Indiana Jones is retiring from his professorship at Hunter College, (but as evidenced by a shirtless scene showing how jacked Harrison Ford is still at 80, he’s no ordinary fossil), the same Nazi that Indy had stolen the Dial from some 65 years before, Jürgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) shows up with his henchmen to steal it back. Throw in Basil’s daughter Helena (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) who wants the Dial for herself to sell on the black market, some cameos from some of Indy’s old friends and you’ve got all the ingredients for an action filled and exciting adventure. Well… sort of.
What can be said about this film is that it is fairly entertaining and there is no shortage of action. In fact it’s constant, nicely stylised and well executed. There are plenty of nods to the earlier films, including Indy’s trademark whip and hat (each time they’re shown the iconic John Williams score plays), a scene with eels where he tells himself they’re nothing like snakes, and lots of high speed chases through a series of exotic locations. The problem is, even though Harrison Ford is still quite clearly an agile and extraordinarily fit man for 80 years old, he’s still 80 years old. And as much it’s impressive that as he’s able to keep up with the choreographed stage fighting without having a heart attack, you can’t help but think that if one of the Nazis had just given him a slight push or called out “Is that Matlock?” from behind then he would have fallen over pretty hard and fast. Especially because when Indy isn’t fighting or jumping across hurtling train carriages, he walks like an elderly man and he talks like an elderly man. Even during the earlier WWII sequences where they’d CGI’d his face to look like a young man (which is admittedly really well done, it’s genuinely as if a circa 1980s Harrison Ford is on the screen), the illusion is shattered because he still has the affectation of an old grumpy bastard and still walks with that distinct old boy gait. What was in my mind a real missed opportunity was the chance to derive some comedy from this. Nobody is actually buying that Indiana Jones is still pulling off the same stunts as he did in his thirties, what would have been funny is if Indy is still as sharp as ever but has to defeat the bad guys in ways which isn’t going to hurt his hip, or pausing a high stakes negotiation with the Nazis for a quick wee.
It’s an ongoing theme – the film has the appearance and bells and whistles of the earlier films in the franchise but lack the heart and depth of Spielberg’s direction. There’s a little kid who’s got ingenuity and street smarts (Ethann Isidore), but lacks the humour, quirkiness and likeability of Ke Huy Quan’s Short Round. There’s a spooky archaeological device with magical powers, but somehow an old nerd’s protractor that summons the power of maths doesn’t seem as cool as the Ark of the Covenant. James Mangold has somehow managed to take Mads Mikkelsen, one of the creepiest Bond villains there ever was, and even he is milktoast as a Nazi! Admittedly, Phoebe Waller-Bridge as Helena Shaw is interesting and haughty enough as Indy’s sidekick, but her character arc and motivations are too left high and dry.
After a while, it becomes obvious that the story doesn’t really have anything interesting going on or even a plotline that made any cohesive sense. The film’s climax is extraordinarily disappointing, and poses far more questions than it does answers. Time travel is a risky premise but great fun when it’s done well, but this script doesn’t even attempt to construct something clever for its audience. Instead everything just lazily resolves itself (literally, Indy gets punched in the face and wakes up with everything nicely wrapped up) and Indy is too tired and ready for his 4:30pm dinner to question why. By that stage, so are we.
By Jock Lehman
Lehman Loves A Movie 