indianajones8.jpg

From my review at UGO.com 

Warning:  minor spoilers 

I’ll answer the most important question first. Yes, there is a Wilhlem scream in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It comes during the second big action sequence when fils-de-Indy (played not as annoyingly as you’d might think by Shia LaBoeuf) races his vintage Harley through a college library. The Lucas/Spielberg clique’s canned sound effect of choice (with the appropriate online cult following) is delivered center frame, direct to the camera lens, by a horn-rimmed nerd. See? They do care.

Anyone who claims that Indy 4 (as anyone with anything resembling a busy schedule is forced to call this film) is yet another example of Lucasfilm raping your childhood is overstating the case. At the very worse, this film is merely mumbling lewd things to your childhood in a public restroom.

I am a glass half full kind o’ guy, so it is in my nature to focus on the positive. On display in Crystal Skull are a number of quite good set pieces, one sequence in particular that rivals the truck chase from Raiders of the Lost Ark. There are ample creepy-crawlies, plenty of John Williams’ blasting trumpets and a terrific villain. Indeed, Cate Blanchett, as cinema’s first paranormal Marxist-Leninist, can take her black leather boots, shiny rapier and severe bob haircut and evenly redistribute my wealth any time she wishes (if you know what I mean….)

The negatives, and oh man they do exist, all fall under the same hot dog vendor sized umbrella. I don’t buy Indiana Jones in the 1950s. The whole point of Indiana Jones is that he apes the serial films of the 1930s and 1940s. To see him “updated” to 1957 sets up a fish-out-of-water disconnect that sounds a wrong note throughout the entire film. Indy at the soda fountain? Where’s Marty McFly?

Of course, this is a necessity. Computer generated technology has gone far, but it can’t reverse the aging process. You want Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, you have to deal with him getting older. And while Spielberg & co. should be commended for never trying to hide this (indeed, the very first thing you see of Dr. Jones is a bird’s-eye-view of his male pattern baldness) the movie as a genre piece just doesn’t feel right in this context. When the macguffins are A-bombs and little green men, I wonder if this is really a job for Indiana Jones.

The little green men are, indeed, at the end of Indy’s chase here, and if that is a spoiler, well, it is your fault for never googling Crystal Skull or listening to Art Bell. Turns out Indy was brought in as an expert at Roswell, New Mexico and now, years later, Cate Blanchett (who apparently can perform Bolshevik Vulcan Mind Melds) is following the clues to what she thinks will give the Workers of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics the upper hand in the Cold War. And here you thought it was just tractors.

Along the chase to the Mayan Temple with mileage that serves as the film’s nutty conclusion we meet John Hurt (wasted in a pretty dumbass role as the fellow archaeologist who’s “seen to much”), Karen Allen as Indy’s old flame Marion Ravenwood (it’s nice to see a woman who doesn’t look like a movie star in a movie now and then), Ray Winstone as comic relief (kinda) and young Shia LaBoeuf as the heir apparent to Indy’s whip. I can not deny that there’s something likable about Shia – even though I slapped my forehead and groaned at his entrance in full Wild One leather and sneer. By the end of the picture, though, he won me over, daddy-os and all.

So, am I recommending Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? Yes, of course I am. You think I’m some kinda Commie freak? From the opening dissolve of the Paramount logo (best use of the gag in the series, perhaps) to the final reprise of the Indy theme I had a big, stupid grin on my face. Too much CGI (they didn’t need it in the Raiders truck chase, why do they need it here?), a convoluted script, no Sallah, a tone-deaf moment when Indy channels (I sh*t you not) Jerry Lewis and a couple of boring patches, yes, but by tomorrow all I’ll remember are the fun parts. Bring on Indy 5!