Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny
Directed by James Mangold
Written by Jez Butterworth & John-Henry Butterworth and David Koepp and James Mangold
Starring Harrison Ford, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Mads Mikkelsen, and Boyd Holbrook
Rated PG-13 for sequences of violence and action, language and smoking
144 Minutes
Reber’s Rating – B+
You know, I have waited years for this to finally lens on the big screen. Literally, years. Fifteen to be exact, ever since the day I saw Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and was starved for more adventures of Indiana Jones. (Yes, I love that sequel just the same, and I have no shame either.) But cracking the right story – then George Lucas selling Lucasfilm to Disney – and finally settling on a shooting script delayed the inevitable final chapter of this franchise. We all knew deep down, no one would ever replace Harrison Ford, try as many people might. And while I’ve seen many lament in their own musings on Dial of Destiny, I instead approached this the only way necessary. As a fan, not a critic. Because critic reviews these days are missing the point of why people want to see a movie in theaters.
And, from a casual viewer point-of-view, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is everything that I ever wanted out of a finale and probably then some, a wildly entertaining adventure that acknowledges time can be our greatest enemy if we aren’t careful to watch and appreciate what’s around us. Imagine if the sense of spirit and adventure from Raiders of the Lost Ark, the grittiness and maturity of Temple of Doom, and notion of family from The Last Crusade came together and had a baby. And, really, isn’t a globe-hopping trek with the idea of family at the heart the sort of adventure we’d expect out of Indiana Jones?
This isn’t the Indiana Jones who traveled the world in the 1930’s and 1940’s in search of rare antiquities. He’s a 70-something world-weary geriatric on the cusp of retirement and dogged by his emotions. August 1969, Indy’s holed up in a tiny apartment in New York City, far less lavish than his Marshall College home. He and Marion are veering towards divorce. Indy’s resorted to sleeping on a recliner in an undershirt and boxers, bottles of whiskey littered around his pad. The Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour” (perhaps a hint of what’s to come) awakens him angrily to start his final day of teaching. He’s more Carl Frederickson than Indiana Jones.
As we come to learn, this is a period where love of ancient history seems to be collecting dust in a storage room. The masses are less interested in the past and more intrigued by the future, especially the forthcoming Moon landing. And Indy, unamused by his class’ lack of interest, is eager to throw in the towel. That is, till his goddaughter surprises him amidst an afternoon drink. She’s become obsessed with the Antikythera, a dial Archimedes created two millennia prior that supposed detects fissures in time and could grant whoever possesses the device to control the past. Throw in the CIA and the Nazis for good measure, and Indy’s off and running not just to protect his goddaughter – but clear his name of murder.
Now, I’m not exactly sure why critics have ripped this bookend to the franchise. Is director James Mangold aiming to best any Steven Spielberg’s previous Indy films? Absolutely not. Instead, Mangold weaves a tale of a man broken in spirit, feeling out of touch with the world they’re fascinated more with the stars, primed to just saunter into the sunset and wither away. A man who has lost time to the mistakes of the past that can’t be remedied. That’s the beauty in all of the marketing that Lucasfilm delivered these last few months. We spent all this time worrying about Jones globetrotting with a woman half his age when the story’s more involved, the themes more morose, the villain less Snidely Whiplash.
After all, Harrison Ford’s 80-years old now, and the story doesn’t try to make him a superman. He knows his body deteriorating away at the joints. Ford wouldn’t have played Indiana Jones one last time if they didn’t acknowledge his age, and the plot’s all the better for that. This isn’t a middle-aged thrill seeker crisscrossing the globe for historical artifacts. Indy’s heartbroken and weary, longing to be brought back to life. Ford is absolutely sharp, playing the character with emotions exposed. His Indy’s no longer the guy who tries to swing at the foe twice his size, instead relying on his brain more than his brawn. Many may expect the fisticuffs of yesteryear but, ground yourself in reality. If you’re in your twilight, are you going to go all James Bond on some baddies?
Mikkelsen’s Jürgen Voller, a German astrophysicist obsessed with the Antikythera, isn’t just another Nazi looking to merely restore the Third Reich. He’s more similar to René Belloq from Raiders of the Lost Ark – a man of practicality and science who sees the world the same as Indy. Oh, he’s indeed iniquitous in his quest to fix Hitler’s many mistakes, nipping at Indy’s heels across the Mediterranean, but his muscle executes the grunt work for him. Voller’s strictly an intellect, a more even-keeled Le Chiffre perhaps, and wishes Jones to actually side with him in his quest. (That’s a new one for this franchise, and is damn refreshing.) If anything, I wished for Boyd Holbrook to do more than revisit his character from 2017’s Logan but he chews up the scenes too damn well at every opportunity.
And are the complaints about Phoebe Waller-Bridge because her character isn’t what the trailers divulge? Unlike her godfather, Helena is a savvy street-smart adventurer all for the fortune and glory. The bickering between her and Indy are more of a father/daughter rapport, ideals and morals and worldly-views on opposing points of view that are more grounded than outlandish. No, she’s not going to take over the franchise and swipe the rug from under Harrison Ford’s feet. But her money-hungry heroine brings the spark back into Indy’s life when most needed. Indy’s more accustomed to having a romantic interest perilous by his side. So, what do you expect the reaction to be when his counterpart is able and a bit more agile? I have to actually wonder if critics are a bit put off by a strong-willed and charming character that actually gives our main character a run for his money.
Oh, and that 25-minute long prologue set in 1944? With a de-aged Harrison Ford? Probably some of the most fun I’ve had at the theater in all of 2023. Period. I can’t imagine this technology could be sustained over the course of an entire film with an aging actor, but the usage in the segment sets up the last two hours and establishes characters. Plus, Indy beating the snot out of a train brimming with Nazis? There’s nothing better.
I think that the passage of time will truly make many appreciate Dial of Destiny as the closure the franchise needed, a serviceable bookend that feels more like Raiders and far less like Crystal Skull. Is the film perfect? Hell no. Yes, there’s maybe a bit too much CG used at spots – kind of hard to duplicate New York 1969 without some clever trickery – and side characters are tossed around like crumpled plastic bags. But James Mangold leaves his mark on the franchise. Maybe critics should have spent less time comparing this to the original trilogy and instead kicked back their feet and, you know, enjoyed themselves. Dial of Destiny will not disappoint if you want a mature globetrotting escapade with layered character. Just don’t settle in expecting Raiders of the Lost Ark. (It’s not, nor does this try to be.)
