Old dogs can’t learn new tricks in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. With the history books finally set to close on the beloved Indiana Jones series, and a sturdy director in James Mangold behind the camera, expectations were high for this final installment, which was tasked with righting the perceived wrongs of the previous entry, The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and sending our beloved grave robber out on a high note. With the original trilogy holding a special place in the hearts of many, including myself, as some of the greatest adventure films ever made, the anticipation was palpable. However, as the film made its debut at this year’s Cannes Film Festival to overwhelmingly lukewarm reviews, enthusiasm skidded to a halt: this wasn’t the final crack of the whip many had hoped it would be. Nevertheless, with a mix of hope and trepidation, I journeyed into the theater, hoping for a thrilling and satisfying conclusion to the legendary archaeologist’s expedition.
Harrison Ford finally hangs up the hat in this fifth and final feature, as Indiana Jones embarks on a quest to uncover the power of an Archimedean relic – a dial capable of manipulating time itself. Indy finds himself reluctantly teaming up with Elena (Phoebe Waller-Bridge, unremarkable here), his goddaughter whose intentions prove time and again not to align with his own. As they embark on a quest to protect the greater good – or enrich themselves, in Elena’s case – the narrative attempts to explore themes of legacy, betrayal, and the consequences of meddling with history. Also punching Nazis.
It’s hard to avoid comparisons to the polarizing fourth installment, The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, which infamously ventured into extraterrestrial territory. While I haven’t revisited that clunky sequel in quite some time, Dial of Destiny hardly seems like a more worthy sendoff for one of cinema’s most iconic characters. Were the Dial of Destiny capable of such feats, turning back time to end the series with the triumphant ride into the sunset in The Last Crusade all the way back in 1989 would certainly be seen as a righting of history for most Indy devotees. That will likely be the timeline many choose to reside in, where the franchise’s legacy remains untarnished.
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The opening sequence, set in war-torn 1944 Europe, showcases a well-staged attempt by Indiana Jones and his comrade Basil Shaw (Toby Jones) to retrieve valuable antiquities from the clutches of the Nazis. They encounter Mads Mikkelsen’s Jürgen Voller, a brilliant Nazi scientist driven by a twisted desire to rewrite history, ensuring the longevity of the Third Reich for “a thousand years”. Although Indy’s pursuit of the Lance of Longinus proves fruitless, he and Bas stumble upon the Archimedes Dial, an even more powerful relic, setting the stage for a perilous adventure through time. This brings us to 1969, where Indy lives alone in a NYC apartment, weathered, worn, and himself a relic of a time that’s past him by.
With a staggering production budget of $295 million, Dial of Destiny stands as the most expensive film in the Indiana Jones franchise, and one of the costliest ever made. A significant portion of this budget was allocated to digitally de-aging Harrison Ford for the opening sequence – to mixed results. While the technical wizardry may impress some, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment and question the authenticity of what’s unfolding when digital de-aging is at play. Everything falls into uncanny valley and it serves to tamp down the stakes when we know that half of what we’re watching is digital recreation. The soulless process of digital black magic left me yearning for the genuine portrayal of a weathered hero, rather than a polished, plastic replica. If having a younger version of Indy is so important, just recast the character. It all just feels so…empty. So Disney.
As the film unfolds, it becomes evident that Dial of Destiny suffers from a wider sense of “Disneyfication”. While there is violence on display, it lacks real consequence, and everything feels sanitized and safe. Indiana Jones’ roguish charms are present on the surface, yet there’s an underlying feeling of counterfeit replication, an ironic mirror of the counterfeit Lance of Longinus discovered in the early narrative. The sequences may be well-crafted in terms of their overall visual grammar, but they fail to capture the spirit and authenticity of the original adventures. Like Ford’s recreated young face, it’s all just…fake.
James Mangold, known for his impressive work on Logan and 3:10 to Yuma, takes the director’s chair competently, delivering action set pieces that are clean and functional, albeit largely unremarkable. There is not a single memorable set piece, which is sad for a franchise that features a number of the most memorable set pieces throughout film history. It lacks the ingenuity and excitement of moments like the boulder chase, the blood-soaked plane fist fight, or the franchise’s many intense tank skirmishes. There’s an intangible quality missing that prevents us from fully investing in the narrative and experiencing the exhilaration synonymous with the Indiana Jones franchise. While the film relies heavily on callbacks to the earlier films, it fails to tread new ground, mistaking replication with innovation and becoming frequently quite dull in the process.
While it’s intriguing to see Indiana Jones out of place in the 1960s, shouting at neighboring youths to turn down The Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour” or harrumphing at the moon landing, it ultimately feels like a needless addition. Much of that can be blamed on the fact that Dial of Destiny, working off a script, penned by Jez Butterworth, John-Henry Butterworth, David Koepp, and James Mangold, feels like a product of committee writing. While the film briefly touches on themes of regret, particularly regarding Indy’s loss of his son Mutt and his separation from his wife Marion, these explorations remain surface-level and fail to leave a lasting impact.
There are echoes of James Mangold’s work in Logan, which explored the idea of a hero’s isolation and regret in a much more serious way, but this theme gets buried beneath a whirlwind of globetrotting and busy set pieces. Rather than making Indy’s internal emotions a central focus, they become mere window dressings, failing to resonate on a deeper level.
Yet amidst the disappointment, one shining beacon remains – Harrison Ford. In his final portrayal of the iconic archaeologist, Ford delivers a performance that reminds us of his unmatched talent and charisma. He breathes life into the character, providing a sense of resolution and a bittersweet, if unnecessary, happy ending. It’s a testament to Ford’s enduring presence that he remains the heart and soul of the film, overshadowing its many shortcomings. The same cannot be said of Waller-Bridge who, despite her outstanding work in Fleabag and contributions to the story here, just doesn’t add much to the adventure.
From a technical standpoint, the film is a weird hodgepodge of impressive production value and glaring digital ugliness. The cinematography, set design, and visual effects want to exude an air of grandeur, befitting the franchise’s legacy, yet, despite the hefty price tag, the end result feels underwhelming and chintzy, failing to create the same textured, lived-in environs that the original trilogy films did so effortlessly. There’s something that happens when a film’s budget bloats when creators think everything can be created digitally and in doing so, they only make it increasingly dead inside. That appears to be the case here. When all is said and done, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is an unnecessary and strangely dull coda to an iconic franchise that should have hung up the hat and whip decades ago.
CONCLUSION: Though a grizzled Harrison Ford is game as cinema’s most iconic aging archaeologist, ‘Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny’ can’t rise to the occasion, delivering a final farewell to the character that fails to move the dial, much less justify yet another unnecessary curtain call. Might be worse than ‘Kingdom of the Crystal Skull’, but for different reasons.
C
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By: Matt Oakes
Started blogging about film in college when the university paper wouldn’t have him. Dislikes your consensus film Twitter favorites. Devotee of horror movies that make him die a little inside. Catches films at festivals when he can. Proud SFCS and OFCS member and Tomatometer-approved critic. Editor-in-chief of Silver Screen Riot.
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