In Dial of Destiny, Spielberg has checked out and cashed in.
Why did Spielberg abandon Indiana Jones? Not directing Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny — Spielberg was busy ruining West Side Story and fabricating The Fabelmans, instead — makes for the sorriest news of parental neglect since millionaire influence-peddler Hunter Biden got his child support reduced. But Spielberg’s neglect affects many more people. The Indiana Jones series is part of Spielberg’s artistic pedigree. Although devised as escapism, it illustrated his singular visual wit and his father issues, seemingly tied to conservative patriotism (acknowledging the dangers of Communism and the trauma of the atom bomb). Plus, it featured Hollywood’s most startling, personal encounter with the specter of Adolf Hitler.
Dial of Destiny — Indiana Jones, Part 5 — doesn’t go any further or deeper, despite archaeologist-swashbuckler Indy (Harrison Ford) making another go-round of world-historical incidents. This time Indy, set in 1969, is joined by Helena Shaw, his mercenary, adventurous goddaughter (played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from TV’s lewd Fleabag series and the James Bond franchise-killer No Time to Die).
While essentially sexless like most other boys’ action movies, Dial of Destiny’s MacGuffin is another revered historical relic, a gizmo created by Archimedes of Syracuse and considered by scientists to have time-travel capabilities. It’s a MacGuffin by definition because the characters care more about it than we do.
That’s the biggest difference between this counterfeit sequel and a real Spielberg movie where sought-after objects — the Ark, the Holy Grail, the Crystal Skull — made us realize the spiritual significance of Indy’s actions. This time Archimedes’ artifact is just a franchise gimmick. Nearly three hours of noisy chase scenes drown out the unmistakable insincerity.
Spielberg is listed as producer (so is George Lucas), but the hands-off approach to hero and heroics — taken up by glorified hack James Mangold — result in undeniably hollow, by-the-blueprint “thrills.” Spielberg the great pop artist has checked out, same as with West Side Story and The Fabelmans misfires, exposing the cravenness that has recently come into his work.
Prior to Indy and Helena retrieving the Dial (broken in two parts, the Antikythera, then the still-lost Graphikos), the adventurers first pursue the Lance of Longinus (the spear used during Christ’s crucifixion). It turns out to be a fake — a small but shocking indication that Spielberg isn’t Spielberg the ecumenicist anymore. This bit of skepticism casts a pall over the rest of the film, limiting the traditional expected pursuit of righteousness.
Dial of Destiny is the most cynically conceived of all the Indiana Jones films, which were building toward moral radiance. Nothing in it seems original — Indy’s mission is at cross-purposes with Helena’s, yet their dubious partnership harkens to The DaVinci Code, while several set pieces evoke The Time Machine and Back to the Future. Producer Spielberg succumbs to his lessers whom he either inspired or who imitated him (Robert Zemeckis, Ron Howard, Mangold, and the entire Marvel gang).
Raiders of the Lost Ark, the series’ beginning, is often cited as the favorite movie of Spielberg haters who prefer it to his more visionary, ethically centered films. Here, Spielberg appeases those dullards just as he did in the hands-off Jaws sequels. This contempt for the popular audience was also implicit in West Side Story’s social-justice disenchantment.
The thrill is gone. Not that Raiders absolutists can tell the difference. Mangold and co-producer Kathleen Kennedy cater to misplaced nostalgia — a certain shift toward deception signified by the Dial of Destiny itself displacing the popular political notion of Occam’s razor. Mangold and Kennedy deny the simple explanation of Hollywood greed and political cynicism in preference for yet another cultural hoax.
When Dial of Destiny’s screwy plot combines 1960s politics and post–World War II refugee astrophysicists through the villain figure Dr. Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) and his black henchwoman, it merely confuses today’s facile Nazi scare tactics and racial unrest. Mason (Shaunette Renée Wilson) is modeled after the Sixties black activists, yet she looks like an Angela Davis clone from Marvel’s Black Panther. This quasi-historical updating of Indiana Jones seems part of a scheme to boost the franchise’s ESG score. It’s as if Spielberg had nothing left to say about an American trailblazer who represents political heroism. Perhaps it’s because Spielberg himself has given up that quest.