Saying Goodbye to Indiana Jones in Two Parts

this piece contains spoilers for ‘Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny’.

A dual ode to the pinnacle of the action hero archetype, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Dial of Destiny form a duology of sorts; two films that exist solely to say goodbye to Indiana Jones, despite, in each case, the film preceding it having already done so. Though that sounds like a mess, both films end up serving a unique purpose of their own, slotting into the overarching story and finding something relevant to say, even after all this time. 

Neither reach the heights of The Last Crusade, yet both earn the right of existence, and work as a conjunctive send-off for the one character of them all who deserves the extra effort. Among all the discourse and vitriol, seeing the light from both sides is the ultimate glory for any well meaning archaeologist (Indy fan, for short).

Opening on the opening of each of these closing films seems fitting. Crystal Skull begins stranded in the desert, with a downbeat, annoyed Indy at the will of Nazis (of course), who are in search of a hidden higher power in Area 51. He’s accompanied by a new friend with a supposed long history, who then immediately betrays him in favor of some bloody money. It’s a familiar structure, one that soon breaks down into a cluster of swashbuckling set-pieces that lead to Indy’s eventual escape. Compare this to Dial’s opening, a flashback to Indy in his golden years. He’s young, energetic, and a bit hostile. The trademarks are still there; a new (old) friend, rip-roaring action, and more Nazis. 

But Dial opens on a reminder, whereas Skull opens on a continuation. The two are in perfect continuity yet lend themselves to two different purposes… or perhaps, preferences? A potential re-watch of the Indy flicks could yield a full journey through all five, or, for a certain desired effect, you could end it on either or. Indy is similarly old in each, but in Skull, his age is hardly an issue. The film is an unbothered love-letter to the original trilogy. He’s Indiana Jones, what can’t he do? It makes sense for Spielberg to take that route, too, as he was notoriously keen on hearkening back to the first three films during the fourth’s development process.

Yet in Dial, not only has his age caught up to him, but it’s stifled him. He grapples with it the whole way through, and the ending of the flashback opening supplants this theme by immediately cutting far into the future to the man being rattled awake in his New York apartment by some rowdy kids on the floor below, who he then berates in his underwear like any old man would. James Mangold has it his way, and not just here. The difference in direction defines both these films individually, but also feeds the notion that they’re two parts of the same whole.

With Skull, Spielberg pushes the boundaries of reason further than he ever has, aside from the aliens (that was primarily Lucas’ addition, anyway). The action sequences, even with the addition of Mutt Williams to help manage the insanity, pull no punches in Indy’s favor. He’s swinging from dangling lights onto moving vehicles, dodging massive ants whilst fighting a man twice his size, avoiding poison arrows in the dead of night and, infamously, survives a full on nuclear blast by taking refuge in a refrigerator. He’s doing as much as he’s ever done and more here, and aside from a few one-off jokes about his age, he’s in prime form. 

In this way, the film feels like an attempt to immortalize a forgotten age of blockbusters, an age that the first three Indy films inspired; brash, unending adventures keen on movement to the bitter end. Movement doesn’t simply mean action, though. Rather, those films are electric in every moment. Colossal performances and the chemistry between them, breathtaking, larger-than-life visuals, a dedication to difference, they were special. Crystal Skull doesn't meet that metric as often as you’d wish it would, but it deserves a round of applause for continuously trying to. 

Mangold hardly ever speeds things up in Dial, and we’re rarely “moving”. Everything is seen and managed through the lens of Indy. There is action, and people talk plenty, but it all feels squandered under the weight of what we don’t see. Indy’s life is clearly in pieces; Marion is out of the picture, and we eventually learn that Mutt’s death spurred the divorce. Despite the Indiana Jones pedigree essentially demanding movement, Mangold proposes a reason to be still, and unravels it carefully through the few conversations in which people actually want to listen to Indy, and not simply use him as a means for a selfish cause. He starts in the distance, and for a while it’s hard to see, but by the final moments it’s all completely opened up at your feet in a way that changes the film entirely. 

Dial of Destiny actually struggles most when it’s trying to be a Spielberg film; the best bits are all purely character moments, committed to the calm. The standout to me takes place in the third act, once Indy realizes that evil Dr. Jürgen Voller has miscalculated his grand time-traveling plan. In hysterics and slowly bleeding out, Indy joyously shouts at the doctor and his team their mishap, laughing in between gasps for air, reveling in their failure. This moment is the most true to Spielberg’s creations in the entire film, above all the high-flying and wit-exchanging. On the precipice of death, Indy loudly celebrates truth prevailing, trading a riotous tribute to the victory of good will for a punch square in the nose. It doesn’t get much more akin to the character at his core than that, and Dial is all about character, so it only makes sense that such a moment is one of the film’s cardinal highlights. 

This takes us to the collective final act. First, Indy escapes a perilous adventure, reunited with the love of his life and his newfound son. A white wedding, an ultimate purpose… and too good to be true, says Dial. Time couldn’t be ignored, even by a timeless hero. Next, a rough restart, one final ride, an ultimate reunion… it’ll never be the same, but that’s okay. Bittersweet is sweet enough.

But in the waning moments of both films, despite having settled down in each, Indy goes back for the hat. The golden through-line is the legend. The hat, the whip, the untold stories and tell-all expressions, they’re immortal. You can’t pass them down and settle for reminiscence, nor hang them out to dry. The legend is forever present, and in the end, both Crystal Skull and Dial of Destiny round off their stories with that sentiment. 

Thus, in providing vastly different experiences while managing to end on the same triumphant note, these two films forge a distinctive, parallel final chapter for the character. Each beautifully flawed and thoroughly earnest. You may take the former on one day and the latter on another, but when you find far down the line, both will still be there, present, touting the tales of the legendary Indiana Jones… and they’ll be just as important then as they’ve always been.