Harrison Ford and Phoebe Waller-Bridge in 'Dial of Destiny'

The first three Indiana Jones are forever part of the reasons I love and respect blockbuster cinema. The Speilberg-Lucas tandem hit solid home runs with these film installments that punctuate the 1980s, offering a delightful melange of history and action, mixed with the right amounts of fantasy and magic. Harrison Ford set the right tone of a modern hero with swagger and persistence, and ready to get out of tight fixes in the easiest way possible - as opposed to being stupidly heroic or inflicting pain on oneself. Who can forget when he reached for his revolver, eschewing mano-a-mano combat; and we all laughed. The less we say about the attempt to revive the franchise in 2008, the better. My three sons grew up in the early 2000s on a steady diet of these Indiana films; and while we were all excited at the prospect of a new installment, it seemed we were ready to watch Indiana with his father, but not be entertained by Indiana offering his fedora to the next generation. So, the news that a fifth concluding chapter was on its way, and the fact that Harrison Ford is now 80 years old, had to be met with both hope and reservation. James Mangold directs, and I have great respect for his canon of films - Logan, Ford v. Ferrari, Walk the Line, 3:10 to Yuma, and Girl, Interrupted are among his more notable achievements. I especially loved the way he handled Logan as an anti-superhero outing, giving us a jaded, riding-into-the-sunset protagonist, and that offered me some confidence that Mangold could perform the trick of bringing this franchise to a fitting, rousing finale.
Raiders of the Lost Ark is the film you should watch if you want to prepare for this Dial of Destiny. The timeline of Dial’s prologue is the closing days of World War 2; and we get an AI de-aged Indiana, with Basil Shaw (Toby Jones) interfering with the Nazis plans to ransack every country they’re leaving behind, and stumbling on archaeological treasures related to Archimedes. Then it’s a hop, skip, and jump to 1969, and Harrison portraying an Indiana who’s roughly 70 years of age. A ghost from the prologue crops up in the form of Nazi Jürgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen), who has since changed his name and has found favor working with NASA and helping the USA put men on the moon. Out of the blue, Basil’s daughter (and Indiana’s goddaughter) Helena (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) shows up, and all hell breaks loose, as macguffins, false leads, twists and turns now ensue - all in the name of Indy-fun and games. No spoiler here, so just be forewarned that there are times when fan service and shots of nostalgia seem to overtake the narrative. No surprise to find that Sallah (John Rhys-Davies) makes an appearance, having emigrated to New York. And of course, there are more surprises in store. The fantasy and magic elements are here as well, but perhaps a mite too far-fetched so we lose credibility. In Raiders and in Last Crusade, these elements were very much bound within our regular suspension of disbelief.

The AI de-aging of Harrison Ford for the film’s prologue; and how he looks for the main section of the movie.

Perhaps as a salute to Short Round of Temple of Doom, we have a young sidekick in the form of Teddy (Ethann Isidore). But he’s more a sidekick of Helena, and can be annoying above anything else - a far cry from how we enjoyed Short Round. Antonio Banderas and Boyd Holbrook have minor roles, but are t asked to do much. I’ll offer a stiff salute to Harrison Ford, as his commitment to the role is never in doubt. Phoebe is basically playing Fleabag without the knowing looks to the camera, and it works; while Mads is thankfully given more texture as the main villain, then he has in his Marvel outings. But I’m still waiting for the Hollywood film that will properly utilize the acting range of Mikkelsen. There’s nothing really wrong with Dial, and it does provide closure in a meaningful manner. But the film magic of those first three iconic films is missing here - we aren’t left with our mouths hanging open, or flinching as split-second life or death decisions are made, and captured onscreen. Maybe those first three chapters spoiled us rotten; but ultimately, while Mangold ‘stretches his arms, they don’t reach Spielberg’s’.