I was leaning against a railing outside my local theatre, waiting for a friend who was supposed to show up a half hour ago. We were going to eat and then catch “”Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,” which I had already seen, but liked enough to watch again. Those mine carts got me every time.
The night was extremely foggy, and I thought my friend’s mom might have found the conditions too dangerous to drive in and opted to keep her son safe at home. I was going to give him a five more minutes, though. If I waited any longer than that, I’d miss the trailers, and I hate missing trailers. If I miss them, I feel like I didn’t get the entire film experience. (Going to the theatre with me is a lot like going to the airport. I need to be there an hour early because I’ll be damned if I miss a preview for a new Spike Lee joint.)
I noticed someone approaching me from the the parking lot. At first I thought it was my friend, but this guy was wearing a trenchcoat, and I couldn’t recall my friend ever wearing one of those. Then the stranger flicked out a butterfly knife and started doing the normal tricks with it.
“”This isn’t going to be good,” I thought to myself as I reached for my butterfly knife.
As I twirled my knife open in an equally flashy display, the guy said, “”We’re going to miss the trailers if we don’t go in now.”
My friend had a way of making entrances.
I’m sure ninety percent of you have seen the Indiana Jones films. If you’re like me, you enjoyed them. The rest of the world seemed to, too. So that begs the question: Why aren’t there any successful imitators?
Hollywood has tried to make films to dethrone the ruler. “”Romancing the Stone” was Indy inspired, as was “”High Road to China.” And when “”The Mummy” came out a few years ago, people quickly compared it to the Jones sagas. Those films didn’t quite work the same way, though, and I don’t understand why. It’s such a simple formula that a bunch of kids could duplicate it.
The adventure film, a Hollywood staple for far too many years, has a few variations on the same theme. The Indy films kind of played off all of them without using too much of any one thing, and with an overt wink of the eye. For some reason, filmmakers haven’t been able to duplicate the feel of the trilogy, instead opting to go too far in one direction or another. It seems like it should be easy to do, but Hollywood has somehow made it rocket science.
Granted, there were talented people working on the Indy films. Very talented people. That’s not to say they’re the only people who could’ve done that, though. None have, however, and that makes me fear what could happen if the fourth film is ever made. Why? Because the poisoned fruit of Tinseltown may have infected George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, as is evidenced by their recent films.
Any Indiana Jones work to come from these one-time kings of cinema will be tainted by years of bad rip-offs that should never have seen the light of day, but have changed public perceptions of what an adventure film should be. And then there’s the fact that Spielberg has some new moral grounds that he’s put in place the last few years. All of this could spell disaster for what was once an enjoyable franchise. (And let’s not even get into Lucas and his constant script problems.)
The fourth film may never happen, and I’m content with that. I’d rather see nothing than a pale imitation like all the other movies that have come out since. I fear the powers-that-be will think they have to re-invent the wheel, and that just isn’t the case. What made the Indy films so fun was that they were inspired by old movie serials and all their cornball excesses, something I think Hollywood feels audiences are too jaded for these days.
If the fourth film is more “”King Solomon’s Mines” and less “”Radar Men From the Moon,” I’m bringing that butterfly knife back to the theatre and slicing every copy of the film. It’s the right thing to do … and it’ll be fun. Lucas and Spielberg — consider yourselves warned.
Father time is knocking at your door, fellas.
Either get a move on, or don’t do it.