It’s 1936, and a youngish archaeologist named Indiana Jones is about to be buried alive in an ancient Egyptian tomb. His nemesis, Belloq, gloats from above. Recalling an earlier conversation they had over the value of a dime-store pocket watch after a thousand years, Belloq offers a cutting quip.
“You’re about to become a permanent addition to this archeological find,” Belloq says. “Who knows? In a thousand years, even you may be worth something.”
It’s 1969, and luckily, Indiana Jones wasn’t buried alive after all. He is, however, getting—and feeling—older by the day. Only he doesn’t feel like he’s gaining value. He feels as though he’s losing it.
Forget the days when underclassmen would write “love you” on their eyelids and blink slowly in the handsome Dr. Jones’ direction. When his students shut their eyes these days, it’s to take a quick nap. Forget the years when he came back to a home filled with love and family: His only son, Mutt, died in Vietnam. His relationship with wife, Marion, was wrecked by the grief, and she left him.
The man who survived the blood of Kali? Who braved the most devious of medieval traps? Who ran pell-mell from a gigantic boulder and nonchalantly brushed tarantulas from his leather coat? That man is 30 years gone. A big adventure these days might be more fairly called Indiana Jones and the Afternoon Nap.
Or so it would seem.
But then, on the day of his retirement, a familiar figure walks through his classroom door: Helena Shaw, Indy’s goddaughter. She’s after the Antikythera, an ancient Greek construct that was her father’s obsession. What does it do? No one really knows. The technology it represents shouldn’t, technically, exist for another thousand years. But Helena’s dad—in his crazed, waning days—thought that it might be able to manipulate time.
Whatever it does, its Greek creator (the famed Archimedes) thought it was so powerful that he broke the thing in half.
Indy has one part of the Antikythera: Helena wants his help in finding the rest. Or so she says.
But she’s not the only one after the fabled mechanism: Dr. Voller, once-and-future Nazi, has his eyes on the prize, too. And you can guarantee that the bespectacled baddie has his own plans for it.
Nazis. We hate those guys.
We can’t quibble with stopping Nazis. And, as we all know, Indiana Jones (for all his faults and occasionally questionable choices) has stopped more than his fair share. The stakes are high this time around, because even though Germany lost the war, Dr. Voller is scheming to make everything … Reich.
Helena’s not the do-gooder that Indy is. She’s on this particular quest for (as Indiana Jones himself once said) fortune and glory. Or so she says, at least. Indy sees something more in her, though: A desire to connect with her late father. She develops a real attachment to her godfather, too.
Helena also serves as a guardian/friend/mentor to a teen named Teddy. Now, their relationship is hardly perfect, given that it’s based on stealing and cheating and all sorts of bad behavior. But Helena has managed to keep Teddy relatively safe and off the streets, and she might be the closest thing to a mother/friend that Teddy’s ever had. And when things get particularly dangerous, we see the lengths that they’ll all go to save one another.
We also see some nice messages about friendship, marriage and reconciliation.
When the movie opens in flashback (during the final days of World War II) we see that Indiana and his friend, Basil Shaw, are after another biblical relic. The Nazis have in their possession the Lance of Longinus—the spearhead that pierced Jesus’ side during His crucifixion—and Indy and Basil are attempting to liberate it.
The spear is revealed to be fake (though we see it again in a later scene).
The Antikythera, meanwhile, is very much real and (again in flashback) very much in Nazi hands. We hear that if the ancient dial finds its way into Hitler’s hands, “He will be God.”
We hear that Archimedes was a “mathematician, not a magician.” Indy says that he doesn’t believe in magic, but he does allude to his many experiences that he can’t explain. He’s come to the conclusion that “It’s not so much what you believe; it’s how hard you believe it.”
A picture of Christ is seen hanging on a wall. A Bible reference (Philippians 22) is scrawled on a subway wall. A Catholic statue makes its way through a Sicilian street. Indy alludes to earlier adventures, including drinking the blood of Kali. (The name refers to the Hindu goddess of death, and the blood itself apparently held magical powers.)
Helena wears a top that reveals a bit of midriff. She was also engaged to a violently lovelorn mafia don. Indy walks around shirtless and in his skivvies. A couple shares a kiss or two.
The violence in Dial of Destiny isn’t as gross as we’ve seen in previous Indiana Jones adventures: No melting faces, no monkey brains, no one gets chopped up by airplane propellers. But the body count is quite high.
We can “thank” the opening flashback for a great many fatalities. Cars and motorcycles crash and fly around, killing and sometimes throwing free their occupants. On a train, a huge machine gun goes haywire (thanks to the sudden demise of its operator) and shoots dozens of people (most of whom fall off the train). Several folks are killed via handgun, too. A guy is killed a bit grotesquely while on the top of said train.
Several people—many of them entirely innocent—are flat-out murdered in the film. One or two are shot in the back as they try to run. One man is handcuffed to something underwater and presumably drowns. Another person nearly drowns, as well. Bullet lead flies frequently, often finding fleshy termination. (Not everyone dies from these gunshot wounds, but many do.)
People are killed via arrows and (more grotesquely) gigantic harpoons. Cars crash. Planes crash. Trains crash. Bridges collapse. Boats are dynamited. We see several corpses. Punches upon punches are thrown. People are threatened. Various vehicles careen in disturbingly unsafe ways. Indy says that he’s been shot nine times. We hear that Indy’s son died in the war.
Characters must brave eels (which can, and do, issue a painful bite), tarantulas and giant centipedes.
We hear several misuses each of “d–n” and “h—.” Language such as “crap” and “p-ss” is also used. God’s name is misused three times, once with the word “d–n,” and Jesus’ name is abused once. A racial slur is used.
Indiana’s first scene in 1969 finds him in his apartment, empty bottles strewn about. After Indiana retires, Helena finds him in a nearby bar, drinking. She joins him, and she tries to encourage him to join her quest over glasses of whiskey. He spikes his coffee with a bit of liquor from a flask. The consumption of liquor is fairly common throughout.
Characters—especially Nazis—also smoke. Voller often puffs on cigarettes, while another character chomps on a cigar.
Teddy is a skilled thief. Helena tells Indy that they actually met when Teddy tried to steal her purse. He swipes several possessions during the film, including some money from a couple of Italian kids who made fun of his clothes. While he’s often forced to give the stuff he steals back, he uses that money to buy ice cream.
Helena lies frequently and steals the Antikythera. (She calls it “capitalism.”) She also calls out Indy for his questionable archaeology—saying he’s more a tomb robber than noble scholar. We hear that Indy broke a promise to a friend.
We learn that the American government has shielded an ex-Nazi from prosecution and put him on the payroll, using his expertise to help win the Space Race. (It seems that they’re willing to let a great many things slide when it comes to the behavior of him and his ever-present attaches, but his CIA handler will only go so far for him.)
There are references to blackjack and gambling debts.
Time.
Indiana Jones’ adventures have always been, in a way, about time. A 3,000-year-old ark. A 2,000-year-old cup. Stones too ancient to guess. With each new exotic setting, Indy and his friends dive into the dirt of history, peeling away pages of time.
Paradoxically, time has always seemed on the verge of running out on Indy, too. The torch fades. The tank trundles to the edge of the cliff. Even though he’s after such timeless artifacts, Indy always needs to do something right now, before the boulder catches up to him.
On one hand, Indy deals in eons. In the other, seconds.
It seems altogether fitting that Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny deals so explicitly with time and the desire to turn it back. Here, we can feel the weight of time not just on Indiana Jones’ adventure, but on Indy himself.
Turns out, he didn’t need to worry about the careening boulder. The thing that threatens to crush Indiana Jones is the sands dropping through the hourglass, one grain at a time.
And yet he still has something to say. And do.
Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is no Raiders of the Lost Ark. Like Indy himself, the franchise is well past its prime. But it is a reasonably entertaining adventure story that is far better than Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (the franchise’s midlife crisis, perhaps?) and comes with, if not a treasure, at least a keepsake. A bittersweet poignancy at its core. And while it loses its way sometimes in its own convoluted story, it still boasts heart.
Of course, any archeological dig turns up plenty of unwanted detritus, and Dial of Destiny is no different. You’ll turn up shovelfuls of muck: foul language, irresponsible behavior, drinking, smoking and, of course, tons of violence. Nope, the Indiana Jones franchise didn’t turn all sweet and innocent while you weren’t looking.
But compared to some of the previous installments, the Dial of Destiny does dial the content back—just a touch. So maybe Dr. Jones did mellow in his old age.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
