Indiana Jones Joins the X-Men

I saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull tonight. I liked it, but I didn't love it. It's fun, but as with all things George Lucas has touched in the past decade, it should've been much better.

My problem with the latest Indiana Jones flick is that the title character, although once very human, has now become a cartoon super hero. Maybe Steven and George got tired of seeing others make blockbuster films about men in tights and decided to make their own. But whatever the reason, the inability of the movie makers to create any sense that the protagonists are in danger really drains the movie of much of its excitement.

Speaking of spoil, don't read on if you haven't seen the movie and care about spoilers, but here's a short list of the things that happen to the newly indestructible Indy: Falls through windshields without a scratch; frequently is shot at with machine guns without being struck; is a passenger in a vehicle that speeds off a cliff, only to be gently set down after getting caught in the branches of the world's most improbable tree; gets thrown by a nuclear blast hundreds of yards while hiding in a refrigerator and immediately tumbles out of it in one piece; survives not one, not two, but three falls of hundreds of feet down waterfalls with jagged rocks at the bottom; and stands in a maelstrom of boulders the size of houses--including one that strikes his viewing perch--but remains standing in harm's way rather than taking shelter.

The invincibility doesn't stop with Indy. The new, young version of Indy, played by Shia LaBeouf, manages to straddle two speeding jeeps as they race across a jungle floor smoother than any highway. Later, he gets caught in a vine that mysteriously lifts him to the tree top where he instantly befriends monkeys who show him how to swing from vine to vine more confidently than Tarzan ever managed. (Heck, even Peter Parker had a couple of mishaps the first time he tried to navigate by swinging around.)

I don't expect or want realism in my Indiana Jones adventure, but when the characters become invincible and face no danger, there is little reason for moviegoers to invest themselves in the characters' cinematic challenges. In this movie, the only thing missing on Indiana Jones is a cape and pair of tights.

Worse yet, Harrison Ford plays Indy like a guy who knows he can't be so much as scratched no matter what happens. In the earlier movies, you saw fear and sensed danger when Indy was clinging to the sagging hood ornament of a speeding Nazi truck, facing a raging fire while tied to a chair, or fleeing from an oncoming boulder. In Crystal Skull, Ford can't be bothered to show much of anything but a bemused and confident swagger; it's like Indy started hanging with the dudes of Ocean's Thirteen.

Crystal Skull is a wild ride and worth the price of a ticket for some laughs, a few jolts, and a lot of nostalgia. It's just too bad the humanity has been drained from Indy. Maybe for the next movie (and you know there's going to be another), it's time for Lucas and Spielberg to step aside and see what some fresh blood can do for the series. I wouldn't mind seeing what kind of excitement might be crafted by a filmmaker like Peter Jackson, Guillermo del Toro, Alfonso Cuarón, Martin Campbell, Sam Raimi, or Paul Greengrass.