I don’t think I can write about Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny without first divulging my extreme fandom for the franchise. As a wee kindergartner in 1984, I remember being mesmerized by the head-exploding and face-melting greatness that was Raiders of the Lost Ark (on a basement VCR at my babysitter’s house, who I’m sure didn’t know I was watching). A few years later, it was Short Round and the still-beating, burning hearts of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
In 1989, as a fifth-grader, my brother and friends conned one of our moms into driving us out to the movie theater on a school night to see the debut of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade in a rare Wednesday opening. None of the other moviegoers seemed to mind that an overexcited gaggle of pre-teens cut in line so they could be the first ones in the theater. That night was also the first time I’d ever heard someone use the term “chill pill,” as in “Take a chill pill, kid. They’ll let us in soon.”
Admittedly, there was less excitement for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull nearly twenty years later, but my brother and I still managed to catch an opening night screening, and I’m glad we did. Sure, it had lost some of its luster, and its reliance on questionable CGI brought the whole production down a notch or two, but it was still a good time and faithful to the spirit of the franchise.
When I heard there were plans for yet another installment slated for 2023, I couldn’t help but be apprehensive. Despite the ending of Crystal Skull being less than I’d hoped for, I was afraid another film might be akin to flogging a dead horse, and that idea is not something I ever wanted for my beloved Indy movies. But then I saw the first trailer for Dial of Destiny, and all my misgivings went out the window. I found myself positively giddy for another chapter.
It was quickly decided that my daughter and I would fly up to my hometown and see the premiere of Dial of Destiny with one of the same friends I’d gone to see Last Crusade with back in 1989. So, with our kids in tow, we settled into the packed theater and waited for the lights to dim. And then my entire childhood came rushing back to me.
I know what the critical consensus for Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is, and I honestly can’t find a serious argument against it, except for this: No other movie this century has so successfully transported me back in time as this one. I would argue that those panning the film, especially those who were kids when the original three were released, have forgotten the feeling they got the first time they saw the hat donned and the whip cracked.
Because of this, they’ve missed that Dial of Destiny taps directly into the same magic as the previous films, regardless of the protagonist’s age or any other contrived reasons for dismissal. I loved it, my daughter loved it, and that I got to share that important piece of my childhood with her is worth more than any silly grown-up’s opinion about this fantastic movie.
I urge you to judge Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny for yourself, but when you do, I ask you to picture yourself in much smaller shoes. Then ask yourself: What does that kid think about the adventure unfolding before their eyes?
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.