As Indiana Jones, Harrison Ford’s wry, sardonic, vaguely reluctant action-energized masculinity always seems to hold the seed of its own critique. Even in the current flick, he comments wearily on the necessity that he extract himself from touchy situations, assessing his ability to contain threats with quick insight and clear confidence but none of the arrogance or stupid invulnerability that seems de rigueur for so many action heroes.

Indy’s escapades always have an ulterior motive; ultimately, it’s all about the research. The representation of professors on film speaks volumes about cultural stereotypes—see, for only several, recent instances, Smart People, in which Dennis Quaid plays a disheveled, impervious literature prof, and The Visitor, in which Richard Jenkins offers a much more nuanced portrait of a sad, lonely, professionally stalled economics professor. In the Crystal Skull, we first see Indy captivating his class of young acolytes, wearing the requisite suit and bow tie of the 1950s egghead. Donning his battered brown fedora signals his transition to action hero. Gone is the effeminizing suit and tie, replaced with his sweat-stained safari shirt, brown pants, and scuffed boots, his worn but ubiquitous bull-whip by his able side.

When his younger boy-partner admires Indy’s strength, our hero wise-cracks that he’s only a teacher part-time. During the rest, adventure is his playground and he’s proud of his ability to execute his moves. Under every ivory-towered absent mind, it seems, is a superman waiting to loosen his tie and leap tall buildings. But for Indy, the requisite one-against-many fist fights, car chases, and narrow escapes seem subsidiary to the character’s main goal, which is to secure knowledge, as well as the containers in which it’s supposedly borne. In the Indiana Jones series, the quest to know justifies the pursuit of things.

The Crystal Skull, in fact, makes the pursuit of knowledge its overt and primary motive, as the totemic object over which its heroes and villains struggle represents an ancient Mayan ritual symbol that honored the gods and dispensed wisdom. The errant skull must be returned to its rightful resting place, so Indy and his team face a perilous journey down a series of increasingly long, fast, and furious waterfalls, and into and out of various caves and tombs, shoving aside cobwebs and fighting off the creatures of the dark that imperil their way.

(In one of the film’s most unfortunate missteps, these creatures, who stream from the central tomb much as the horrible, giant red ants copiously bled from their mound earlier in the film, are costumed as caricatures of Native American Indians, with feathers, war-paint, and loin-cloths. The extras’ over-the-top make-up screams Disney World ride more than it serves as a scary narrative detail, a gratuitous bit of racism that could have easily been cut.)

The characters line up good and bad pretty much along the knowledge v. things axis—Max, the turncoat double-agent who pretends to be “Jonesy’s” friend, inevitably becomes consumed in the great final conflagration since he refuses to leave the cave of treasures, greedily stuffing his pockets with jewels and gold. The good folks, who survive, are those who “know,” and know enough to constrain their desire by respecting the origins and proper ownership of things. “Oxy,” for example, Indy’s anthropologist colleague, somehow lost his mind in his effort to return the skull to its rightful homestead, but proceeds to regain his coherence over the course of their journey. His appreciation for “the natives” is rewarded quid pro quo: the return of the skull buys him the return of his mind. As they travel, Oxy’s cryptic remarks, which only Indy can decipher, lead them to the skull’s originary cave and allow them to set the world aright.

The film’s villain, on the other hand, can’t keep her obsession with knowledge separate from an imperialist desire to acquire things and cultures. In the final confrontation, when the skull is returned to sit among the twelve others that make up their own tribal council, the Russian villain is incinerated by her own hubris. Played with gleam by Cate Blanchett (even if, as A.O. Scott reported in the Times, her accent slips all over the globe), the icy evil-doer peers too deeply and looks too hard into the skull’s empty eye sockets, chanting, “I want to know” (or rather, “I vant to know”) over and over until the skull’s extraterrestrial powers turn her into smoke, her greed punished with death.

Most notable in this fourth installment of the Indy chronicles is his reunion with Marion Ravenwood, his hard-drinking buddy from the first film, and her newly introduced son, who (spoiler alert, although it’s not much of a secret anymore) turns out to be Indy’s. “Mutt,” played by Shia LeBeouf as a rather vain greaser, has quit school to pursue motorcycle maintenance (a perhaps an oblique reference to a more Zen way of life than the kind Indy pursues, however reluctantly). When he realizes the boy is his, Indy insists he should go back to finish school, again trying to honor knowledge over adventure. Given old Dad’s activities, book-learning is a hard sell.

Ford’s advanced age is addressed head on, providing some of the film’s best jokes. Always the hesitant hero, Indy is now also a profoundly tired one. Mutt calls him “gramps” and “pops” not because of their new familial tie but because Indy seems ancient to him: “What are you, 80?” Mutt asks guilelessly. That Indy doesn’t try to overcompensate for his old bones is one of the film’s sweetest conceits.

Given Ford’s limited ability to perform his own stunts (although he clearly accomplishes enough of them to make his performance impressive for a 65-year-old), this film focuses on his relationships much more than the earlier ones, creating for him a nuclear family that’s solidified in the end by a marriage, of all things. How ironic to see Indiana Jones domesticated, although since more sequels are never out of the question, whether he can settle into the conventional, complacent couple-dom that action heroes always, if sadly and nobly, resist remains an open question.

Until film’s rather ludicrous, conservative conclusion in marriage, Karen Allen, returning as Marion, has fun representing a middle-aged woman who’s more than a domestic help-mate for Indy. She drives their get-away cars over cliffs, confident that they’ll all survive; she delights in fighting off evil physically and intellectually; and she never cowers in the face of the fearsome or revolting challenges that confront Indy’s party on their way to the story’s happy finale. Watching her take such energetic good fun in being part of the crew brings a welcome point of female identification to the typically masculine (and male) action story.

Likewise, Blanchett’s villain, with her silly black helmet-hair and her icy blue eyes—however ridiculous the character or her recycled Cold War conflict—provides a fun display of female power and ingenuity. With two women in central roles—one good, one bad—the Crystal Skull offers more gender balance to the action-adventure plot. Of course, were Indy as young as he used to be, the women might remain constrained in subsidiary, sex-object-to-be-protected roles. Now that he’s older and more conscious than ever of his mortal limitations, Indy’s women can assume a more central role in his escapades—his masculinity has less to lose or to prove.

But that’s part of the fun of it.

Humming to John Williams’ familiar score,
The Feminist Spectator

 

4 Responses to Indy’s Women: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

  1. AWC says:

    Jill,

    I agree that Karen Allen has tons of fun, and it certainly is wonderful to watch her drive jeeps off cliffs with a confidence that twists the knife of fear in the men. But I also think that part of the female identification with Marion is tied up in the marriage trope. In the first movie when Marion encounters Indy after all those years, she punches him in the face for abandoning her. Here, I suppose, her abandonment isn’t total because Indy left her left with a (male) child; therefore the anger and frustration are missing. Instead, she smiles spunkily and partakes in a “couples banter” with which only longtime intimates are usually familiar. I’m not trying to be a downer on the movie; Marion’s a great action character and a good foil for Indy (and it’s a great popcorn movie). I just wish she punched him in the face again.

    Sincerely,
    Andrea

  2. Jill Dolan says:

    Hear, hear, Andrea: I agree with you on this one, and find it unfortunate that the return of Karen Allen is mostly meant to provide Indy with a family, which winds up domesticating both of them. She’s an apt mate because she’s spirited and fearless and has fun, but seeing her in that white dress at the altar at the end sure is disappointing!

    Thanks for writing . . .!
    Best, Jill

  3. Treavor says:

    Just saw this film yesterday– Pleasure to read your blog, as always. The marriage at the end didn’t really bother me, though I did think it a surprising turn of events. Perhaps they want be domesticated so traditionally. I thought the Indy’s action hero identity might pass to LeBeouf character courtesy of that mysterious wind that blew Indy’s hat down the aisle and into LeBeouf’s possession. But Indy snaps it back and puts it on. I read this as a refusal to hang-up his hat (literally), and that he won’t be too domesticated. Given Marion’s zeal and fierce independence (the very qualities Indy likes in her), I doubt she will be too domesticated either–hmm, so now as I type this, it DOES seem odd that marriage would be a fitting end for these two, or that Marion would consent to that white dress, in that very traditional church wedding. Guess the producers wanted a tidy bow to wrap-up this action-adventure saga. Loved your writing about the things vs knowledge theme that pervades the movie — that tension appealed to me throughout the film.
    As ways, fun reading, Treavor

  4. Jill Dolan says:

    Hey Treavor, always a pleasure to hear from you. Yes, that image of Indy’s hat blowing down the aisle, and the potential passing of the torch, was a truly symbolic moment. I do think the purposefully left it an open question: Will Indy continue his exploits? Will Mutt pick up the mantle? Will the jack-knife replace the bullwhip? Hard to say! Thanks, as usual, for your smart response. All best, jd

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