Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
dir. Steven Spielberg
2008

"Indiana Jones. Always knew some day you'd come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable."
- Marion Ravenwood, Raiders of the Lost Ark

"It's not the years, honey. It's the mileage."
- Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark

"I love you."
"I know."
- Leia and Han, The Empire Strikes Back

Indiana Jones is like a member of the family, a prodigal uncle who shows up every few years with outlandish stories and presents from places like Marrakesh, El Dorado and the moon.

In Raiders of the Lost Ark, we see young filmmakers Lucas, Spielberg and Kasdan waxing nostalgic over the lost serials of their youth. This Indy was a wisecracking cartoon duck, a model of roguish adulthood for ten year olds and an archetypal bit of nostalgia for their elders.

What did we know about Indiana Jones? He was a professor of archeology and he dumped his last girlfriend in Nepal without first checking to see if she had any medallions he might need. That was about it.

In Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, we see a different Indiana Jones: Henry Jones, Jr.

All of the must-haves are there: a comic side-kick, a riddle written in an ancient language, an undiscovered secret chamber with hidden treasure beyond imagining and a single-minded nemesis bent on acquiring said treasure, all moving from one improbable chase to the next until we reach the firey climax.

What is different this time is Indy himself. Where the first Indiana Jones was a nostalgic reference to the childhoods of Kasdan, Lucas and Spielberg, this Indiana Jones is a nostalgic reference to the childhoods of their fans.

Indiana Jones no longer references Flash Gordon, Tarzan or The Lone Ranger. Indiana Jones now references, well, Indiana Jones, as well as American Graffiti, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Wars, The Outsiders and Jaws.

What we seen in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is older filmmakers Lucas and Spielberg reflecting on their own contribution to the world of cinema, to the revival of the Saturday morning serial they started 30 years ago and that hasn't subsided since, a tradition that's given us everything from John McClane to The Transformers.

But, in the end, too much history, too much water under the bridge, too much baggage weighs Herny Jones Jr. down. Throughout Crystal Skull, Jones is confronted by the trail of human wreckage he's left in his wake, the disappointed and abandoned partners, counterparts and loved ones.

For someone whose life is spent digging up history, he seems all too eager to abandon his own.

"It seems," his colleague says at one point, "that we've passed the point where life gives you things and entered the part where it takes things away."

Perhaps, but it also seems that Jones was never very interested in the things life had to offer.

Which gets us to the Oedipal conflict. Steven Spielberg appears to have father issues.

In Close Encounters, Richard Dreyfuss seems to have no conflict at all about abandoning his family and hunting for the aliens that put the mountain picture in his head.

In Jaws, Chief Brody puts himself deep into harm's way (and risks depriving his family of a father) so he can hunt a shark that, now follow me here on this Chief, HE IS NOT QUALIFIED TO HUNT. When hunting a monster shark in a tiny boat, it does help if you know how to tie a goddamn bowline, Chief.

And the list goes on. From ET to War of the Worlds to Minority Report to Munich, Spielberg's fathers are absent or have other priorities.

In Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, these issues were worked out from the point of view of the inadequate son. Henry Jones Sr. is a task master and a stern judge of character.

In Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, we see Henry Sr. reflected in his tired, lonely son's eyes.

Does it really matter if we get the mcguff and return it to the temple where the icon of the elder power will bring about the big CGI finale? No. We're glad that's there and we want to see it and DAMN those ants are scary, but ultimately, no.

What we want to see is some recognition by Henry Jr. that life is for the living, and that's what this chapter delivers. Of all the treasures Indiana Jones has ever pursued, the one he attains here is by far the most precious. And it's not a crystal skull.

Three stars. Jason Jones Jr. says: I'm making this up as I go.

Redbelt
dir. David Mamet
2008

"Never liked the Swiss, they make them little clocks, these two cocksuckers come out of 'em with these little hammers, hit each other on the head. What kind of sick mentality is that?"
-Pinky, Heist

"Wallace Beery. Wrestling picture. What do you need, a road map?"
-Geisler, Barton Fink

"Bust a deal, face the wheel."
-Auntie Entity, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome

"There's more to life than a little money, you know."
-Marge Gunderson, Fargo

Mike Terry (Chiwetal Ejiofor) is martial arts instructor and an honorable man, which is unfortunate for him because skilled, honorable men do not have an easy time in David Mamet's universe.

Terry's business loses money, which troubles his bottom-line oriented wife more than it troubles him. He is doing what is right and what is pure and that is enough for him. To his wife, it seems he is doing what is costly and what is pointless.

And so it goes until an accident in the studio compels Terry to pay just a little more attention to the monthly bills. It is at this point, of course, that the various crooks, shysters, fight promoters and washed up alcoholic action stars come out of the woodwork, all wanting a piece of the Mike Terry experience.

If the man won't get in the ring, the ring will surround the man.

For fans of David Mamet, there are things to love and things to hate about Redbelt.

The long-running Mamet theme of the clash between property and identity, money and honor, the self and the system that gives rise to the self, has been laid bare and stripped down here.

There is the usual complicated "who's conning who?" plot, but it's less pronounced, less precious, less finely tuned than in previous Mamet mindfucks like House of Games, The Spanish Prisoner and Heist.

The Swiss timepiece precision of those stories allows us to suspend disbelief on the plausibility of such schemes. One has to ask, is it really worth it to screw over and murder people in such elaborate ways? Doesn't it make more sense just to apply your apparently superhuman intelligence and creativity to a more reliable line of work?

As Redbelt unfolds, it becomes less and less clear why it is the bad guys went to all the trouble they went to and took all the risks they did. It seems like they could have more easily walked in through the front door of Chiwetal's life than rappelled in through the skylight.

The plot seems to be there because otherwise we wouldn't have a movie. It is a thing unto itself. It is the point of the point.

Mike Terry's purity, his virginal reluctance to compete, his blithe dismissal of concerns like paying for life and having stuff all speak to his crystalline worldview, which mirrors Mamet's own.

The bad guys are there to screw up Terry's life because that's what bad guys do. It is enough that the plot is pure, though it be costly and pointless.

On the plus side, Mamet does seem to be coming around to the idea that actors should show some emotion when reading their lines. Chiwetal Ejiofor's performance (as usual) is particularly impressive.

In Mamet's earlier screen work, he consciously directed actors (including strong talents like Joe Mantegna and William H. Macy) to deliver their lines as if they were reading off a teleprompter. Whether confessing years of betrayal to a loved one on their deathbed or verifying a hotel reservation, there is is but one correct reading: clearly enunciated, flat, even delivery.

The purity, Mamet claims, is on the page. Actors are but a vessel. Nothing about them should be important. Which is all well and good, but it sometimes leaves the audience sitting there like Mrs. Terry asked to admire the purity of a high-intensity emotional situation rendered like a weekend weather report.

In Redbelt, as in Heist and (to a lesser degree) Spartan, Mamet seems to have discovered that actors, and I know this is crazy talk, can impart information to the viewer merely by manipulating the tone of their voice and the expression on their face.

Two and a half stars. Jason Terry says, stop standing where you can hit yourself.