After more than a year of hoping and praying that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull would do right by fans of the archaeological franchise, the film’s first screening in Cannes confirms the worst. There’s a brilliant Indy film buried somewhere within, but Star Wars syndrome has stuck and Steven Spielberg and George Lucas just couldn’t resist dipping into their box of computer-generated magic.
Quite aside from a plot torn literally from outer space – we won’t go into too much detail save to say that alien visitation plays its part- where this film struggles to find its feet is in moments in which its characters are forced to tackle increasingly implausible CG set pieces. When the first of these moments is as outrageous as it is, you have to worry where the film plans to go next.
And that’s the real issue: there’s never any true sense of peril. There are only a couple of actual fistfights in the movie and Ford is the ultimate actor when it comes to taking a punch and making you believe it. Forcing him to constantly outrun computer just doesn’t feel true o the character.
Too much reverence for the previous movies and for new technologies probably combined to cause the problem — everything feels like a movie; the sets look rickety, the lighting harsh. The original films suffered the same problem occasionally, but they were of their time and totally plausible in spite of it. This would be OK if the CG didn’t push too far, but it does so clearly in an attempt to live up to the summer blockbusters of now.
Despite these issue, there’s still is a lot to love. From the moment Ford picks up the Fedora and you see his silhouette as he puts it on you know you’re in familiar company and he delights in taking on the mantle of the older Dr. Jones. This is the film’s greatest strength; there are a couple of jokes about his age, but nothing approaching Lethal Weapon levels, and you very quickly remember that Indy has never been the willing action hero — Ford’s reluctance is given a whole new angle.
But Indy is probably the only wholly realised character. Disappointingly no one else is really given a chance to shine. Ray Winstone swaps sides far too regularly, John Hurt and Jim Broadbent are underused and Cate Blanchett has so precious little to do you barely remember her as the credits roll.
The verbal arguments between Indy and Karen Allen’s Marion Ravenwood are right back to par, though, and the worst kept secret in Hollywood about Shia LaBeouf’s character sets him up as a third sparring partner. Unfortunately, Mutt really shouldn’t be in the film – there’s not enough characterisation to really justify his place and you wonder if he wasn’t included purely to satisfy one of the film’s – admittedly very humorous, running gags.
This isn’t as bad as Phantom Menace, and not as much of a disaster as it could so easily have been. You get the impression that Spielberg and Lucas did their best to take on board the lessons of the Star Wars prequels, and you are left in no doubt that everyone involved desperately wanted preserve the quality of the franchise.
