In this new series, members of Team Experience wax rhapsodic on films they've never been able to stop watching. Here's Lynn Lee...
Conventional wisdom holds that Raiders of the Lost Ark, the O.G. Indiana Jones, is also the best Indiana Jones. Yet the Indy installment I love the most is Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, which I’ve watched more times than I can count and can practically quote from beginning to end. It’s one of my cinematic comfort food go-tos. I can count on it to put a smile on my face and – perhaps more surprisingly – a tear in my eye.
I suspect my deep affection for The Last Crusade is at least partly rooted in the fact that it was the first Indiana Jones movie I saw, and the only one I ever saw in a theater...
(This may also be why so many of my fellow late Gen X/early Gen Y peers seem to share my opinion that Last is best.)
True story: the first time I saw it, I somehow managed to miss all the title cards and all the costume and production design clues, meaning I had no idea that the movie took place in the 1930s. I instead concocted an elaborate back story that had Indy fighting in the present day against an undercover Nazi army who had somehow kept Hitler alive & in hiding for the past 40 years! Despite this profound misunderstanding of its basic premise, I loved The Last Crusade so much that it became one of my favorite movies – and still is, three decades later.
The most common critical take on Indy’s third outing is that it was a welcome reset after the misfire of Temple of Doom, but essentially a lesser, jokier replay of Raiders; basically a Raiders “Lite” that substituted the Holy Grail for the Ark of the Covenant. However, I’ve always found The Last Crusade to be the most purely fun of the Indiana Jones adventures, in that it strikes the ideal balance between comedy and suspense. We get that sense right from the outset with the opening sequence starring River Phoenix as young Indy in a lively yet lightly tongue-in-cheek mini-origin story, all the way through to the movie’s climax, sealed by the Grail Knight’s immortal, Monty Python-worthy deadpan “He chose poorly” punchline.
Last Crusade also had a special ingredient that allowed it to reach both sublime comic heights and unexpected emotional depths neither Raiders nor Temple of Doom ever attained. I’m of course referring to Sean Connery’s pitch-perfect turn as Indy’s dad, Professor Henry Jones. The moment he emerges from the shadows with an incredulous “Junior?” is when the movie really hits its stride—and oh, what a glorious stride! Although Connery was only a little over a decade older than Harrison Ford and could probably have played Indiana himself a little more than a decade earlier, he’s brilliant as the fusty, tweedy scholar with a flair for tart quips who gets caught up in his son’s more swashbuckling style of archeology. It’s a joy and a hoot watching Henry shift from initial shock at Junior’s methods to wholehearted participation, whether he’s deploying weapons as unlikely as an umbrella or a fountain pen or popping up like an ebullient gopher from the bowels of an enormous tank. Yet Henry also serves as the movie’s moral voice, never more rousingly than when he’s impressing on his son the urgency of keeping the Nazis from the Grail—or telling the “goose-stepping morons” themselves through gritted teeth that they should try reading books instead of burning them.
But I would be remiss if I didn’t pay equal tribute to Indiana Jones himself. Indeed, it’s Ford’s chemistry with Connery that makes the movie so endlessly rewatchable, and his comic timing is at its best here—whether it’s Indy’s reflexive “Yes, sir!” to Henry’s “Junior?” or his dumbfounded reaction when he realizes that he and his dad have both slept with the same woman (Allison Doody, excellent and also unexpectedly rewatchable as the Nazi-with-a-conflicted-heart). As their frosty relationship gradually thaws in the heat of their shared quest, it’s impossible not to get invested in the Jones rapprochement. Spielberg, for whom absent fathers and strained parent-child dynamics are like spinach to Popeye, gets full mileage out of this ostensible subplot that’s really the main plot; in fact, The Last Crusade just may be the most satisfying distillation of the director’s favorite themes. (He would try another, less successful variation on them with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls; even though I enjoyed that movie more than most, Ford and Shia LaBoeuf never come close to capturing the Henry-Indy magic of Last Crusade.)
And it still works, every damn time. I still tear up when Henry embraces his son after thinking he’d lost him over a cliff, and again near the end – as Indy’s reaching in vain for the Grail that’s just out of his grasp – when Henry says very quietly, using his son’s preferred name for the first and only time, “Indiana…let it go.” To be sure, in both instances Henry quickly returns to putting “Junior” in his place, but we feel confident by the end of the movie that their relationship is in a better, stronger place than it ever was. And isn’t that what we were rooting for all along? Lose the girl, lose the Grail, find your dad—sounds like the perfect Spielbergian ending.
previously on "Over & Overs"
Julie & Julia and Moonrise Kingdom