Indiana Jones and the series of doom
Remember enjoying Raiders of the Lost Ark when it came out in 1981; hadn't seen the matinee serials that inspired producer George Lucas and director Steven Spielberg, but did respond to the junky theme-park ride feel (actually it wasn't so much a theme park ride (that came later) as it was a traveling carnival, complete with walking freaks, lurid exhibits, the hint of sex, and thrills galore). The picture shambled and lurched horribly (there wasn't much of a plot to speak of) but that was part of the charm, and it moved with agreeable speed (the huge fiberglass boulder threatening to roll over Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) pretty much set the pace and tone of the picture).
So many decades later, the appetite for movies derived from other movies has been satiated to the point of nausea (for me, at least). Raiders spawned endless clones, some amusing (I'm thinking of Romancing the Stone (1984)-- basically Raiders told from the point of view of the heroine, ably directed by Spielberg protégé Robert Zemeckis), many not (the Richard Chamberlain remake of King Solomon's Mines (1985) and Jon Turtletaub's National Treasure (2004) anyone?). Re-watching the picture, the question of racism comes to fore: do South American savages Nepalese grotesques Tunisian thugs all exist to be mere fodder for Indy Jones to whip, kick, verbally and physically abuse, and-- when in a particularly bad mood-- simply shoot in the chest?* The picture moves so fast one may miss the subtext, unless one is South American, Nepalese, or Tunisian, or simply non-white...
*Actually, Toshiro Mifune had a-- to my mind, at least-- far wittier response to the question of gun vs. blade, in Akira Kurosawa's great black comedy Yojimbo (1961)
...Though I'm sure there were nonwhites that did miss the subtext (the movie was an international hit) and I'm sure much of the racism was unintentional (Spielberg was-- still is, I'd argue-- a political naïf; Lucas even more so), a carryover from the serials of old with their '30s attitude toward darkskinned folk-- but a racial slur is a racial slur even when not intended to offend, even when the victim fails to notice.
Might as well throw in the observation that the climax, involving the Ark of the Covenant sitting in a caldero structure shooting flames into the sky, is partly inspired by the Night on Bald Mountain sequence in Disney's Fantasia (1940). And that the Bald Mountain sequence was in turn inspired by the opening passages of F.W. Murnau's Faust (1926)-- with Emil Jannings a far more impressive Devil than Disney's rather sexless version, spreading his vast bat wings from horizon to horizon.
Which reminds me of another grand adventure that trod heavily on racial lines-- George Stevens' Gunga Din (1939). Indians are depicted here as either ignorant buffoons or homicidal heathens (though the putative villains, the Thuggee cult, did actually exist). It's more difficult to condemn the implicit racism in Stevens' film for several reasons: the producers were cunning enough to present a sympathetic Indian character (the eponymous Din, played by Sam Jaffee), and-- better yet-- they show the Englishmen to be equal if not bigger buffoons in their slapstick antics.
The cries of racism probably weren't strong enough; in Spielberg's next movie Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) the attitude towards foreigners-- in this case East Indians-- is even more virulent. Jones helps a poor Indian village recover their magic mcguffin;* not a case of the white archeologist-adventurer recovering a powerful device for the free world so much as powerful malevolent Indians oppressing their poorer brethren (the white adventurer is merely a benefactor). Spielberg's view of India (a country steeped in dire poverty, ancient architectural and cultural marvels, and great natural beauty) is almost unredeemably ugly, the ugliest I've seen in any picture supposedly set in that country (actually shot in soundstages in Elstree Studios, England, and in Sri Lanka (the location scout must have deliberately chosen the least appealing spots), so that it doesn't look convincingly Indian, either). Offsetting this-- well, other than the poor victimized village and a spoiled brat of a prince who turns out to have been under hypnotic control, there aren't any mitigating circumstances.
*From Alfred Hitchcock: "mcguffin" being the device (uranium, stolen secrets, ancient talisman, whatever) that sets the plot in motion which the audience couldn't care less about.
A royal feast midway through the picture is especially insulting, with offerings of pregnant pythons slit open, eyeball soup with distinctly human eyes (uncooked), and chilled monkey brains. Spielberg doesn't even bother to get details of his gross-out fare right (none of these dishes are served in classic Indian cooking,* which has its own share of strange and wonderful dishes).
*eating live monkey brains is most often attributed to the Chinese not the Indians-- and even then there's little actual documentation.
The sequel does exceed Raiders in number and quality of inventive action setpieces. The Chinese nightclub sequence with its diamond-delivering Lazy Susan, giant bulletproof gong, and Kate Capshaw singing "Anything Goes" in Mandarin, is a chopsuey wonder (here Capshaw's song sets the tone); the mine scenes feature an innovative (for the time) chase; the battle on the bridge is genuinely thrilling (and not for the acrophobic). If pure popcorn entertainment can in any way justify a picture's cultural insensitivity, this is one of the better arguments I've heard from Hollywood in recent years. It almost makes its case.
Might add that Temple of Doom had a subtler, more insidious effect on future popcorn movies: far as I know, this was the first chase explicitly shot and edited like an amusement park ride, with lengthy footage of the action seen riding inside the mine car. A special-effect wonder-- I remember reading production stories about how a camera was mounted on little tracks, riding up and down scale model recreations of a mine-- and here at least the connection between chase and roller-coaster feels witty; the elaborate effects are in the service of jokes, at least one of which was actually funny ("Water! Water!"). With time and endless repetition (by anything and everything from the Star Wars prequels (1999 - 2005) to Ice Age (2002), Chicken Little (2005-- notice how American animation features are the worse offenders?) and the recent Horton Hears a Who! (2008)), the cliché has become tiresome.
The louder cries of racism and a temporary ban in India may have prompted Spielberg to reconsider: with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), Spielberg abandons use of foreign cultures as hate effigies and takes aim at the convenient Nazis (when the swastika appears midway through the picture and Jones slumps back, saying "I hate Nazis," it's almost with a sigh of relief; Nazi jokes can only offend skinheads).
Spielberg took care to include a little local color: the canals of Venice, of course as background to a motorboat chase, the stone facades of Petra, a desert city carved out of a mountainside acting as stand-in for the ancient temple hiding the Grail. Middle Eastern characters are at best loyal sidekicks (Sallah, played by Englishman John Rhys-Davies), ambivalent antagonists (The Brotherhood of the Cruciform Sword, who at some points cross paths with Jones, then drop out of the picture entirely), or cannon fodder.
The action setpieces are-- serviceable (maybe three stand out: a young Indy Jones clambering his way through a chugging circus train; a flagpole wielded like a knight's lance on a motorcycle; a fighter plane confronted by a chivalric umbrella). The movie's feature attraction is really Indiana's ambivalent relations with his father (Henry Jones, Jr., played by the legendary Sean Connery). Of the three, Raiders comes off as perhaps the 'freshest' (considering most of its elements were secondhand), Temple of Doom staged the best action (and worst violence), Last Crusade was the most politically acceptable (translate: not out-and-out offensive), and emotionally complex (which isn't saying much actually).
The series as a whole is a fine example of popcorn entertainment (if you can set aside the frankly racist content of the first two pictures) but compared to earlier fare, well...
Take Gunga Din. The Indy movies barely have a story--just a Macguffin hidden away in some remote death-trap for Jones to uncover; Gunga Din which does do its share of borrowing borrows from the best: the plot and premise of The Front Page transposed into an army comedy, where one officer (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) threatens to marry and leave the British Army while two fellow officers (Cary Grant and Victor McLaglen) scheme to keep him enlisted. If the Indy movies have one star turn (Ford, and at one point Connery), Gunga Din had three (Fairbanks, McLaglen, a magnificently physical Grant); if the Indy movies have Rube Goldberg action setpieces, Gunga Din has Rube Goldberg comic setpieces (and who's to say a comic setpiece is not an action setpiece, only funnier?), plus a rousing finale that makes full use of all the character detail and comic goodwill built up in the past hour. All in all, the Indiana Jones series aren't all that bad; it's just that there's better out there, if you're willing to go and look for it.
First published for Businessworld 5.23.08)
8 comments:
Not having seen Temple of Doom in a good many years, I was struck by many of the instances of racism and commercial insensitivity you mention here. Having only seen the films in my youth, much of these characteristics remained shrouded in a clouded glimpse of realization: though I never reacted toward the racial and cultural insensitivity back then, the retroactive knowledge of these traits lingered into my consciousness at a point in time much later on when I could discern their appointment. The confirmation came only recently when I watched the last half of Doom with friends in Singapore.
Taking nothing away from your analysis, but much of the fabled mine cart chase scene and the in-scene beats of the shenanigans (pursuer becomes fleer, et cetera) that precede it remind me of similar thrusts and chase/battle scenes found Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back and, later, Return of the Jedi, none of which I dare claim as original choreography, of course.
Just before I departed for Bangkok, the subject of streetside vendors and whether or not I should partake in their offerings arose. The owner of an adventurous tummy, my well traveled friends made it a point to provide cautionary tips for me to keep in mind, knowing that I have no preconceptions and appear willing to eat just about anything without question. They offered this to avoid, in their words, any Temple of Doom monkey brain moments I might otherwise have to endure, which I thought was funny.
As a final note, I ate frequently along the street-side without prejudice and no horror stories, though it must be said that something is weird when raw octopus tastes better than the streetside roasted variety, but I further digress. . . .
I don't see it myself. Most of the chasing done in the Star Wars flicks is based on the maneuverings of WW 2 planes (the final battle in Star Wars is exactly that). Empire's chase is somewhat different--but then Irvin Kershner's a distinctly different filmmaker, more graceful, more visually flowing (Return's chases, especially in the forests of Endor, are--well, I think it's a mix of dirt bike and weed hacker).
I submit that the mine car scene is unique in its rollercoaster sensibility, with a single line of direction, along the mine car rails.
Yeah, Temple of Doom was just bad news all around, that fab opening excepted. And like you, I am always struck by how much meaner it seems than something like Gunga Din, which the whole Kali plotline was ripping off, not to mention the standard Baghdad-and-boobs epics where there's a certain goofy respect for Mideast traditions, or at least the Hollywood version. (Boy was I flummoxed when I got older and realized women in devoutly Muslim countries do not wear those see-through things across their face.)
You do a good job of skewering the casual racism in the first one, but there is also the figure of Sallah, and his warm family hearth, very much shown as a counterpoint to Indy's lone-wolf existence and the comforts he's missing. One of the things I resented about the third movie was the way they made Sallah into a buffoon, along with Denholm Elliott--the characters didn't deserve that treatment.
Always nice to see you round here, ma'am.
I'm of mixed feelings about Temple--it's the most racist, yes, but it also has the best action sequences, I thought.
Forgot about Sallah--good point.
does anyone think porn is the only business still thriving during the credit cruch? I think many folks seek refuge in buying and wanking porn during the crunch
You must have not been reading Variety recently. Avatar's taking in huge business. Hollywood's crap machine is as powerful as ever.
How do you think credit crunch affected porn?
Not familiar with it nowadays--I really should ask a friend of mine. But if they're still doing it on video and it's still crappy, I imagine they're doing fine. I just wonder if all the amateur (and what's the difference nowadays?) productions aren't cutting into the market.
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