I’m gearing up for two days from now when I get to see my man back in action!
Of course, I’ve been doing my prep work for INDIANA JONES…. (Let’s just call it KINGDOM, okay? Even thinking about typing out the full title wears me out.) Last night, I watched RAIDERS. Tonight, it’s DOOM. Tomorrow night, LAST CRUSADE.
But back to RAIDERS. Dang, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it—and I’m not talking about channel surfing and coming across the movie on TBS and being sucked into the last half of it. I mean sitting my butt down with the intention of taking in every wonderful beat. Previously, I’ve only been living off my memory of RAIDERS, recalling my favorite little “moments”—details that reveal so, so much even without dialogue. (Naturally, these would include Indy shooting the cocky swordsman and turning toward the camera with that exasperated “Onward, I guess” expression. Also, when the giggly villain Toht enters the tent where Marion is being kept and ominously takes out that chain-looking thing and twists it into a coat hanger. Then when Indy takes over the truck carrying the Ark and he gets that devilish look in his eyes as he starts bumping Nazis off the road. OMG—this sounds like a cliché, but they do not make movies like this anymore.)
But something I realized during this viewing was how spectacularly this film has held up. It really doesn’t seem dated at all, and I would even daresay it’s a perfect movie experience; I can even forgive the introduction of Marion’s ballgown in the middle of the desert because even that is so far outweighed by the characterization, the breathtaking action, the clever hammer of an ending.
Watching RAIDERS just made me…happy. It reminded me of a time when I really thought that there might be an Indiana Jones out there. A time when toys were produced and sold as the result of films and not the other way around (which is ironic seeing as Lucas was the driving force behind the whole toy/film relationship that’s so prevalent today).
But the coolest thing? Is that I’m getting to relive a bit of this semi-innocence through my five-year-old nephew. He’s just discovered Indiana Jones and, before he even saw any of the movies, he devised his own whip and is frighteningly good at cracking it. He even created a mini-play to go along with the “Raiders March”—in it, he swings from the couch, over a beanbag-filled pit, and onto a chair, then races around to recover a stolen artifact. Then he tells his audience that the piece “belongs in a museum,” and that’s the end of the production.
I kid you not.
So, for me, 10 am Thursday can’t come soon enough, and I could care less if KINGDOM isn’t the best Indy sequel. I just want to see Harrison Ford in that hat again, smiling that Indy smile and beating the bad guys.