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Review: INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL / steven spielberg (2008)

May 21st, 2008 by Scott Marks

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)
DIrected by Steve Spielberg
Written by David Koepp from a story by George Lucas & Jeff Nathanson
Starring: Harrison Ford, Shia LaBeouf, Cate Blanchett, Karen Allen, Ray Winstone & John Hurt
Running Time: 124 min.
Aspect Ratio:
Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆

Bring me the skull of Steven Spielberg.

The question remains: Why? It’s been nineteen years since the last Indiana Jones sequel and it’s impossible to imagine a huge outpouring for another installment. Steve and George obviously don’t need walking around money so why the belated effort?

It’s been three years since Steve littered multiplex screens with his mawkish remake of War of the Worlds and the dreary thriller Munich. After a yearlong self-imposed hiatus, Steve strikes back with yet another vacation from filmmaking.

It’s all downhill after the vintage Paramount logo.

The director (and I use the term loosely) operates on two nearly indistinguishable narrative planes: juvenile takes on important subject matters (The Color Purple, Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan) or cloying amusement park attractions (Raiders, Jurassic Park, Hook).

Steve’s biggest flaw is his inability to suspend disbelief without resorting to cheating. Poor little E.T. can’t figure out how to phone home, but has no problem piloting a kid and his bicycle past the moon. Watch the boulder chase in the original Raiders. In one shot the rolling stone is poised to flatten him, the next it’s ten feet behind.

Sadly, my hatred of all that he stands for has placed me in the unenviable position of having to see everything Steve signs. All I need is some bozo pulling me aside and chiding me for judging the guy without having seen his latest brainless theme park ride. It doesn’t matter that I’ve suffered through all but a few and have plenty of ammunition upon which to base my feelings.

Raiders of the Lost Ark is an abomination. Dopey dramatics, insipid acting and climax piled upon climax without benefit of style or narrative cohesion. Just so long as the action-packed set pieces logjam, who cares whether the dots connect? Raiders is not his worst film, that honor goes to either Schindler or Hook, but it was bad enough to keep me away from parts two and three. I also successfully avoided anything with the word Jurassic in the title. His kidpics are insufferable to the point that my cinematic universe will not crumble without viewing them. It’s only when he tries to run with the big boys that you can count me in.

Crystal Skull does not fall into the latter category, yet I couldn’t wait to see it. With the exception of War of the Worlds (a pile I never should have stepped in), everything from Schindler on has been mundanely efficient at best. Yet for some odd reason, I was really looking forward to Crystal Skull. Not because it held any hopes of converting me. On the contrary: this smelled like the Steve I’ve known and despised for decades.

And reek it does. This time the dope doesn’t even bother following the rapid-fire formula that made him famous. There are vast, action-less stretches that almost had me studying the inside of my eyelids. Forget about a crystal skull; you’ll need crystal meth to get through this one.

His clumsiness becomes apparent in the very first scene. Watch the way the sky changes when Indy first meets the Russkies. One second it’s clear and sunny, the next overcast. In his ILM jungle, this could have easily been corrected with one click of a mouse.

Normally I’d put up a spoiler alert, but if you can’t predict what’s going to happen reels in advance you must have one of the few human brains that the skull can communicate with. Since George Lucas wrote the story, what are the chances that Harrison Ford is going to play daddy Darth to Shia LeBeouf’s sonny Skywalker?

As the film unravels, it soon becomes obvious that this is more a compendium of Steve’s greatest hits than an out and out Raiders sequel. The title deity carving, a prop that resembles a gaudy ashtray found at a Tijuana swap meet, bears more than a passing similarity to the hydrocephalic E.T. A fight in a soda shop recalls a similar brawl in the cocaine-fueled floperoo 1941. There is even a third act spaceship that houses a spindly, hollow-eyed alien. What, no concentration camp survivors?

From the outset, Steve makes it clear that he has no intention of challenging his audience. While most filmmakers search hard to find pre-existing music that not only compliments the narrative, but acts as signature songs, Steve hits us with overplayed pop hits like Hound Dog and Shake, Rattle and Roll. A far cry from his use of Danaher’s Theme in 1941. He also makes it clear that he has very little faith in his audiences’ intelligence. When Dovchenko (Igor Jijikine) utters his first line of dialog, there’s a billboard-sized close-up of Indy saying “Russian” for the mental midgets in the audience who might think the bad guy is speaking French.

Trapped in a typical suburban style nuclear testing center, Indy seeks refuge from the blast in a refrigerator. A carload of crash test dummies melt under the heat of the mushroom cloud while an unsinged Indy is catapulted to safety in a frost-free Frigidaire.

Even the film’s running gags need crutches. Well-groomed greaser LaBeouf constantly runs a comb through his hair. Funny stuff. And don’t forget those goofy CGI gopher cutaways. It’s enough to make men puke.

The biggest cheat comes when the invaluable crystal tchotchke is entrusted to brain damaged Professor Oxley (John Hurt). One of the film’s few arcane in-jokes (Professor Oxley is the name of Charles Coburn’s character in Howard Hawks’ Monkey Business) is systematically done in by dumbed-down plotting. Oxley manages to protect the skull from three, count ‘em, three rides down gushing waterfalls only to fumble it after taking a ten-foot drop.

What about the film’s pricey special effects work? The slapstick chase scenes alternate between grainy and fuzzy and the jarring lack of continuity frequently pulls the viewer away from the action.

Talented actors Jim Broadbent, Ray Winstone and Cate Blanchett (Natasha Fatale sporting a Louise Brooks bob) add little more than marquee value. A talentless actor like Ford is called upon to look dyspeptic, something he has mastered. The guy is limited to two facial expressions: pained and more pained. Admittedly, no one watches a Spielberg film for acting or scintillating verbal exchanges. How can you when the dialog consists of little more than characters swapping one-liners? The only pleasant surprise is Karen Allen who managed to escape the ravages of time. With the exception of a few extra pounds, not much has changed in the twenty-seven years since Raiders debuted. Unfortunately, all the script demands of her is cutesy bickering with Indy. Do yourself a favor: skip this nad rent John Carpenter’s Starman.

With Ford looking every second of his sixty-five years, it’s hard to imagine him coming back for another sequel. That’s where LaBeouf comes in. Perhaps he’ll find a nice Jewish girl to marry and they’ll call it Indiana Jones, Jr. and the Temple Beth Israel.

I’ll say one nice thing about the film. I’d sit through it ten times before ever again subjecting myself to Speed Racer. How that for a glowing endorsement? Go ahead, lambs. Enjoy your slaughter.

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INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL Preview Ticket

May 1st, 2008 by Scott Marks

indiana-jones-invite.jpg

My passport to insignificance. I’m more interested in seeing the new theater than I am Steve’s picture.

For those of you who go for this sort of thing, this is what the preview ticket looks like. Sadly, it was sent electronically and has no collectible value on eBay.

At the top it reads “You and your family are invited” and at the bottom warns “limited to no more than 3 guests.” What if I have a large family like Warren Jeffries or Charles Manson?

And speaking of Chuck Manson, how about The Munsters-style lettering announcing the free eats?

The names and dates were changed to protect the innocent, even though we all know that if he could, Jonathan Norman would be first in line.

jonathan-norman.jpg
Jonathan Norman!

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Harrison Ford has senior moment, lashes out at critics who say he’s too old to play Indiana Jones

April 19th, 2008 by Scott Marks

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Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Bladder

After the fall of Munich, Steve Spielberg decided to take a couple of years off.

He’s baaaaaaaaaaaack!

If the mere thought of The Color Purple or Schindler’s List curdles my stomach, Raiders of the Lost Ark has me reaching for a change of underpants. In fact, I’ve had diarrhea with more consistent structure than Raiders.

Along with star whore George Lucas’ Star Wars abominations, Raiders stands as the one film that forever changed the course of summer at the movies. Not due to the box office records it set or any form of artistic merit (there is none), Steve & George forever lowered the bar by transforming movies into effects-driven theme park rides geared for nine-year-old boys, many of who are in their thirties or forties.

Raiders so sickened me that it’s sequels never so much as appeared on my radar. Never saw anything with Jurassic in the title either. When he tries to break into the big leagues by tackling racism and the Holocaust, I’m eager to know with the enemy. Just keep me away from that kiddie krap. Steve’s “the adventure continues” thrill rides serve up more climaxes than a porno and Raiders is easily his most brain numbing froth.

Oddly enough, I have a perverse interest in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, particularly after reading what grumpy Harrison Ford had to say. In a brief interview published on WENN, 65-year old modern day Bronson groused about critics who claim he’s too old to play the part.

Methuselah Jones says, “That’s one of the things I was most keen about. Just acknowledge the years, without reservation. What’s the big deal? The guys 18, 20 years older. So what? Yeah, I’ve heard it: `Aaaaw, he’s older.’ Well st yes. And by the way? So are you… Take a look in the f*ing mirror!”

Nice language for a PG-13 archaeologist.

Ford is confident the the film will be a hit even with a senior in the lead. One of this summer’s few franchise films, it’s bound to make money, but I’m banking on public humiliation.

Links:
Photos from Harrison Ford’s only good movie here.

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FIREWALL / Richard Loncraine (2006)

February 8th, 2006 by Scott Marks

Firewall (2006)

Directed by: Richard Loncraine

Written by: Joe Forte

Genres: Crime, Drama, Thriller

Cast: Harrison Ford, Paul Bettany, Virginia Madsen, Carly Schroeder, Jimmy Bennett, Mary Lynn Rajskub, Gail Ann Lewis, Robert Patrick, Robert Forster, Alan Arkin, Matthew Currie Holmes, Candus Churchill, David Lewis, Zahf Paroo, Pat Jenkinson

Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1

Running Time: 105 min.

Kidnapping goes high-tech and petrified action hero Harrison Ford is again given an opportunity to display his A-to-B emotional range. Not only did Blade Runner prove that there was plenty of room (and need) for quality science fiction in Lucas-Land, it also presented Ford with his most challenging and convincing part to date: a robot.

Firewall is basically The Desperate Hours updated for the computer set. Ford plays a high-powered banker whose family is held hostage and will not be released unlesshe agrees to electronically siphon millions to an offshore account. According to the script, all you need to become a highwayman on the Information Superhighway is an iPod and a crucial part from a fax machine.

Ford is fitted with electronic surveillance equipment, so the e-crooks can monitor his every move, and sent off to work where his actions puzzle co-workers. It doesn’t help that the day before, a goon from a collection agency showed up demanding $95,000 for on-line gambling debts. Through it all, Ford staunchly displays two modes of expression: pained and more pained. There is a scene early on where Ford sits in a boardroom with Robert Patrick, Robert Forester and Alan Arkin and I couldn’t help but wonder if these three superior actors goofed on Harry when he got up to go the bathroom.

As the leader of a gang of articulate, well-groomed and family-friendly urban terrorists, Paul Bettany is the type of villain you don’t take seriously until he makes an example of one of his mates. All I could think of while watching his performance was how superb Alan Rickman was when given a similar character in Die Hard. Virginia Madsen probably netted more from this film than it cost to make Sideways. It is disheartening to see such a talented actress being given so little to work with.

Ford is rapidly approaching Charles Bronson territory. The studios he aligns himself with may be more prestigious and their level of technical expertise strictly first cabin, but the decayed formula smells just the same. Not unlike Bronson, Indy Solo is a theorem; if there was no Harrison Ford, one would have been invented. He’ll be 65 when Indiana Jones strikes back next summer with one last last crusade. (Raiders of the Lost Bladder?) If Spielberg’s smart, he’ll amputate Ford and reattach Sean Connery.

The last twenty minutes of Firewall provide non-stop guffaws. Ford’s scenes opposite a dog would make Lassie leave home. When all is said and done, the film presented one burning question: Why kidnap the family pet? I can understand holding a sick kid hostage. How else is beginner screenwriter Joe Forte expected to shamefully wring bargain basement pathos? Surprisingly, the reason Fido goes along for the ride is actually substantiated. Too bad when it comes down to execution, the filmmakers who roll over and play dead.

Rating: ☆☆☆☆☆

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