James Mangold's Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is hopefully the last film in the franchise. While not as execrable as Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, the latest film is tired and feels rote, a pastiche of a pastiche. It is overlong, at two and a half hours, and should have jettisoned one of its four chase scenes. The film has four credited writers, but probably had twelve uncredited ones. It feels overstuffed, yet this viewer finished the film unsatiated. Mads Mikkelsen is always a good fit for a Teutonic villain and Phoebe Waller-Bridge is an improvement over Alison Doody, but Antonio Banderas' appearance feels truncated.
Mangold is a competent action director, but the action sequences here feel workmanlike. I did appreciate the CGI work on the siege of Syracuse and the train sequence. The series has always had trouble replicating the charm of the banter between Karen Allen and Harrison Ford in the first film. Mangold has very little feel for comedy and the father/daughter friction between Ford and Waller-Bridge seems forced. There is no need for repeated cracks about Ford's age. That said, I was impressed with Ford's performance and I am not a huge fan. I've always thought he was a bit constipated as an actor with a narrow scope ranging from macho jerk to officious grump. Here, he has a sense of dignity and self-deprecation that reminds me of John Wayne in Rio Lobo. As for Indiana Jones, though, I'm crying uncle.
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