‘INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY’ Review: Mishandles a Priceless Relic

Courtney Howard // Film Critic

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY

Rated PG-13, 2 hours and 34 minutes

Directed by: James Mangold

Starring: Harrison Ford, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Mads Mikkelsen, Boyd Holbrook, Olivier Richters, Antonio Banderas, Shaunette Renée Wilson, Karen Allen

There’s something to the story of a man of a certain era feeling like he no longer belongs in his contemporary times. However, that’s not exactly the path INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY chooses. They chose poorly. By placing that notion to the side, and instead focusing on a sluggish, convoluted adventure that makes maddening choices with its characters, co-writer/director James Mangold and co-writers Jez Butterworth, John-Henry Butterworth, and David Koepp deliver a shockingly pedestrian product and certainly one of the worst films in the franchise. When “inspired by” films like JUNGLE CRUISE and UNCHARTED hold more INDIANA JONES-style vibrancy and thrills than the INDIANA JONES film we got, that’s a major problem.

The attention-grabbing opening act spotlights our beloved, fearless archeologist Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) in all his trademark glory: finagling his way out of capture, punching Nazis and discovering the titular timepiece. But quickly the dust settles. Cut to 1969, where Indy feels like a dusty relic himself, hollering at his fellow apartment dwellers for causing too much noise and grumpily accepting his retirement from teaching a bunch of slacker students who’d rather embrace the future over the past. He’s also a single septuagenarian on the verge of a legal separation from wife Marion (Karen Allen).

Though this Indy is a far cry from the dashing, intrepid explorer he once was, the call to adventure sounds once again when his goddaughter Helena Shaw (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) visits to boost the Antikythera – a device that’s said to predict fissures in time – from the archives at Indy’s work. She’s also not the only one looking for it: Former Nazi Jürgen Voller – masquerading as renowned rocket scientist Dr. Schmidt – and his two goons (Boyd Holbrook and Olivier Richters) are working with a CIA agent (Shaunette Renée Wilson) to get their hands on the item. Trouble is, it’s been broken into parts and scattered all over the globe. Havoc and mayhem ensue.

While it might appear on paper to read like a classic, cracklin’ INDIANA JONES pulp-tacular adventure, the executed assembly of its parts very much isn’t. It’s a cold, clammy mimeograph of a mimeograph. Instead of an intelligent, zesty cat-and-mouse chase to unravel clues the ancients left for our characters, the filmmakers choose overwrought blocks of exposition and the well-worn Marvel model of cobbling a MacGuffin back together. In between the sequences to find the remaining pieces, the story is stuffed with convoluted motivations, humor that lands with a dull thud and low-stakes, Volume-assisted pursuits (with the exception of Indy’s horseback escape during a ticker tape parade). The audience can buy that someone of Indy’s advanced age can still kick ass and brawl with the best of them, because we believe in this iconic hero’s capabilities. But even if we didn’t buy it, it would be the least of this film’s problems.

Helena’s tumultuous love-life shenanigans with her ex-flame in Morocco serve to highlight her positioning by the filmmakers as the heir apparent to Indy’s rabble-rousing intelligence, charm and spirit. Their ideas, though, prove counterintuitive to her construction. She continually reiterates she’s just in it for the money, but it makes no sense she’d try to auction half a device when a fully reassembled one would fetch more on the black market. This leads to a completely unnecessary pursuit in a tuk-tuk where Indy is tasked to come to her rescue without being provided much reasoning to do so. It’s noisy filler padding an already overstuffed picture.

Because this thrives on nods towards nostalgia, Helena’s given an iteration of Short Round with Moroccan street scamp Teddy (Ethann Isidore), but their relationship isn’t nearly as endearing. The filmmakers fundamentally mistake Indy’s cherished characteristics in their gender-swapped translation, so Helena is more exhausting than delightful. It’s a fine line between rascally and smarmy and, because the material underwhelms, Waller-Bridge dips into the latter too often. John Williams’ score is the lone bright spot in all the fray, sonically representing the title character in a timeless, heroic form. It provokes a Pavlovian response in the audience as expected, but its new themes also complement the character arcs.

At least Ford gets to emote dramatically in two scenes that show off the character’s vulnerability and tenderness. While it’s lovely to see Indy’s maturation, and to see Ford utilize new strokes to paint a character he’s played for decades, it’s not necessarily the appeal of these films. We want to see him go on journey to regain his confidence and chutzpah again. Sadly, that request will leave us searching for that Holy Grail of a finale.

Grade: 1.5 out of 5

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY opens in theaters on June 30.