I went into the new Indiana Jones with zero expectations and still came out disappointed. The Mummy is better, The Mummy Returns is better – and those are rip-offs! Murdering insects that crawl into the bad guy’s mouth? Check. A greedy dope of a man who tries to grab up as much treasure as he can when the temple’s falling apart? Yuh-huh. An adventuring bickering family jumping around jungles and trudging through temples? Oh yeah. How does Stephen Sommers have Steven Spielberg beat at his own game? Shit, even the names are similar. The dopey treasure-stealing man, played by Beowulf himself Ray Winstone, says near the end of the movie something to the effect of “What a stupid legend. A waste of my time.” Brother, you took the words right out of my mouth.
Of all the stories, of all the titles, of all the ideas George Lucas and Steven Spielberg could’ve used they decide on The Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls, a plodding yarn about ancient aliens with psychic powers and the Russians want their skulls or their spaceship and Area 51 shows up and the Ark makes a cameo and John Hurt is some crazy guy and Marion Ravenwood shows up somehow and Shia LeBeouf leads an army of monkeys as he swings through vines or whatever. Remember the Star Wars prequels? Okay, same fucking thing happened to Indiana Jones.