KWIF is Kent's Week in Film, where each week (or so) I have a spotlight movie, of which I write a longer, thinkier piece about, and then whatever else I have watched that week I do a quick little summary of my thoughts.
This week:
Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023, d. James Mangold - in theatre)
Asteroid City (2023, d. Wes Anderson - in theatre)
J.S.A.: Joint Security Area (2000, d. Park Chan-wook, tubi)
Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002, d. Park Chan-wook, plex)
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Waller-Bridge here plays Indy's estranged goddaughter, Helena Shaw. As the film reminds us, Indy is terrible at family, and if you pay close attention to Raiders of the Lost Ark, he's kind of not a good guy, despite being the hero of the piece. Helena enters the picture as a seemingly chipper acolyte of the Indiana Jones brand, but very quickly proves that her allegiances are her own, as are her less-than altruistic intentions. She draws a mournful, self-loathing Indy out of his funk and back onto an adventure that he wouldn't otherwise survive if not for having good fortune, good friends, whip-smarts and a smart whip.
Helena gets to be the action hero stand-in for moments where old-man Indy would otherwise seem far-fetched (and has to play the rescuer of her aged godfather on multiple occasions, not unlike Indy had to with a still robust Sean Connery back in The Last Crusade), but that does not deprived Ford of his own adventurous moments as well. Indy is definitely not "along for the ride", but the film, both in world and in a metatextual sense, is well aware Indy is not the man he used to be.
If that's a sticking point for the fans, I get it. It's painful to watch your heroes age and be sort of shadows of what they once were. One could look at Star Trek: Picard, or Rick Flair wrestling at 75, or Top Gun:Maverick (or, as a recent knock-off action figure called it, "Top Pilot Maverich"), these kind of sad attempts to recapture the boomer magic, or one's youth, or to validate ones worth as they see themselves replaced. I didn't feel that with Dial of Destiny. Mangold, with Logan, seems to understand the melancholy of aging, how to let it exist within a story without ignoring it when it nor overwhelming it. He seems to get how to present it as the flavour text of an action-adventure film. If you just don't want to see it, or dislike seeing it, that's understandable, but it is well done here.
The film opens with a cracking half hour, an end-of-war 1945 set piece that feels like prime Indiana Jones. It's a pretty satisfying short on its own. After the terrible, godawful, upsetting CGI face-swapping effects of The Flash, the deaging/deefakery of this film is pretty solid (seriously guys, we need to stop complaining about the quality of deepfaking in films, because it's just going to incentivize "them" to try and perfect it, and then we'll be in serious trouble when we can't actually tell). The alternative would be throwing Alden Ehrenreich in there (former Young Indy portrayer Sean Patrick Flannery is almost 60 now, and River Phoenix would've been 55). It's *barely* distracting, at least to me, your milage may vary.
With both Crystal Skull and Dial of Destiny I've heard heaps of complaints about going too far with the finale, as if aliens or time travel are any more fantastical or unbelievable than the wrath of god, hearts being pulled out of chests in ritualistic sacrifice, or meeting a centuries-old knight guarding they holy grail. What Dial of Destiny maybe doesn't get right is it spends too much time there, and the longer it spends the more problematic it becomes (especially from an archeological standpoint). It could have been more swift and clever but it ultimately didn't bother me in the viewing, nor in hindsight
Like with the sequel trilogy of Star Wars, this film will please or displease depending on your ability to accept characters having moved past their heroic archetype mode into more complex people. If you love the Indy series from the 80's and always wished there were more adventures of the characters you love from the time when you first loved them, well, that's really not going to happen, at least not on film, and not with the performers who made the roles what they are. Is it better to let sleeping dogs lie than to watch your heroes become old and fragile, and possibly die on screen? Why are we okay with heroic sacrifice of the young in films, but seeing them age, and confront their flaws is a step too far? Does it ruin what came before to see where they wind up? Or does it just expose our own discomfort with acknowledging the years have crept up on us too? Should our escapist movies be total escapism, or can't something real, even meaningful, not slip through?
This is a legitimately fine, enjoyable, often fun adventure movie, with sharp dialogue and John Williams giving one last horn-filled kick at the can (it's not his best or most memorable work, but it helps carry the through line of the series). Even better, it's a legitimately fine, enjoyable, often fun Indiana Jones movie that at least closes out the series with a truly beautiful moment that made me weepy.
Letting go of nostalgia, this is total middle of the road, but having seen Indy at its most offensive, middle of the road will certainly do. I'd rank it 3rd in the series. Certainly not better that Raiders or Last Crusade, but Far less problematic than Temple of Doom, much less aggravating than Crystal Skull, and far less ridiculous than either (but with the right level of ridiculousness for an Indiana Jones movie).
The Flash Scale: better than The Flash
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Where often an Anderson movie can dazzle with ornate imagery, full of precision details that kind of boggle the mind, the nesting-doll structure of Asteroid City with it's mid-50's setting, is much more spare but exactly as precise. In the theatre setting that frames the film, the stage is evocatively decorated, rather than built up to the nines in usual Anderson fashion, all coded perfectly to pop in black and white. In the story-within-the-story of the town of Asteroid City, it's a very orange-saturated midwestern desert landscape with not a lot to see along the vista but a few clouds and mountains. A (puppet? stop-motion? cgi?) road-runner darts across the screen from time to time, eliciting a "meep-meep" implying this exists within a surrealist Looney Tunes environment.
The massive cast of Anderson devotees and new conscripts descend upon the town where five brainiac children who have created wild inventions of science are being given an honour from science and/or military (there's a point to be made about how often advancements in science tend to be as a result of military backing) as well as gathering to witness a unique solar phenomenon. When that solar phenomenon attracts a strange visitor, and word leaks through the military lockdown, pandemonium happens. But that's all the story within the story. The ur-story is about the writer of "Asteroid City", his casting process, fears and triumphs, which are displayed as a stage play that surrounds the making of "Asteroid City" as a stage production itself. This tier has Bryan Cranston in a Rod Serling-esque role standing outside of it all, narrating from a distance creating yet another level of separation from the telling.
The common thread between both the story and the story within the story is the connection between characters, how they interact and relate, which is all in that expected Anderson dead-pan snappy patter. The fact that both levels are still presented as fiction seems to allow Anderson to push this rapid-fire dialogue even further away from emotional performance. What I noticed here, and can likely be applied to most, if not all Anderson films, is everyone is forthright and honest. There's little to no inference nor subtext to the dialogue. People speak their truth in an Anderson world, which I think is what makes it so disarmingly funny, but also what Anderson haters likely rebuke. If one were to accuse Anderson of artificiality, it's not a false accusation, it's kind of the whole point. I have to wonder if Anderson is trying to understand human emotion, or if he understands it so intimately it allows him to explore it with such dispassionate interest.
I found Asteroid City an absolute delight, full of all the usual hallmarks, but also many, many surprises. I came out of it wondering what exactly Anderson was trying to say through the artifice and still have no idea. But I have no problem just enjoying what is presented at face value, and maybe, upon repeat viewings, it will unveil itself.
The Flash Scale: you better believe it's better than The Flash
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I don't think I ever knew, until quite recently, that J.S.A.: Joint Security Area was a Park Chan-wook film, nor did I have any concept of what the film was about. I knew it was a record-setting film from South Korea, but I gauged that film against the typical American blockbuster, which is my own dumb bias. The poster/DVD cover looked pretty drably like S.W.A.T. or some other cliched police action drama, so I never bothered to explore what the film was actually about.
Turns out its a fascinating dramatic tragedy about cross-zone agents from both sides who wind up becoming incredible friends, but can't ever seem to fully shake the conditioning that each of their respective governments have instilled in them about the "other side". Eventually they are discovered, and an incident erupts. This brings in neutral forces from the U.N. to investigate the incident.
The film opens with Lee Young-ae's Swiss-born, but of Korean descent, Major Sophie E. Jean as she starts her investigation, with persons of interest on both side of the border having delivered clearly fabricated, conflicting reports of the incident. Sophie's investigation takes up the first act of the film, but is almost an extended red herring as to what the film is actually going to be. Where we think it's to be some form of investigative procedural, the second act backtracks to the beginning and through the development of the friendships between the North and South Korean men, and then the third act is largely about the incident, and how the fallout impacts the men, as viewed through Sophie's eyes.
It's a surprisingly delicate story that ponders the complicated history between the Koreas, and really wants to assess how the two countries view each other. The point, I think, is to portray both sides as human, and not as something "other". I don't know that the procedural element of it is fully necessary, and, aside from providing some key history about the post-war division tied to Sophie's origins, I don't think it contributed much. But, overall, a captivating, enlightening, and heartbreaking film, though light on the visual flourishes that would become benchmarks of Park's directorial style.
The Flash Scale: better better than The Flash
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Old Boy is Park's most famous film (in North America, at least), the one that crossed over, and Lady Vengeance is seen as the, let's say... enjoyable one of the trilogy, but Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance really set the tone for what Park's career would become. It's clear from J.S.A. and Sympathy that Park is really fascinated by tragedy, and while J.S.A. takes it very, very seriously, Sympathy is a whole different beast altogether.
The "Mr. Vengeance" of the title isn't a single individual. The story of the film is a two sided coin, always connected but one side cannot see the other. The first side finds Ryu (Shin Ha-kyun), a deaf-mute factory worker laid off just as he's trying to save his ailing sister with a necessary kidney transplant. Ryu is not a match, and so he "trades" his liver for another, only to wake up post-surgery to find he's scammed. Ryu's anti-capitalist, revolutionary girlfriend, Yeong-mi (Sens8's Bae Doona) convinces him to kidnap his ex-boss's daughter, with the promise that they won't be evil kidnappers but to have the child love hanging out with them. Without saying too much, things don't go well.
The flipping point finds the boss, played by the impeccable Song Kang-ho (also from J.S.A. and Oscar-winner for Parasite) out on his own mission of vengeance against the Ryu and Yeong-mi, with its own disastrous consequences.
It's all just a pile-on of misfortune and misery, but it's (attempted at least) to be tempered with an exceptionally irreverent sense of humour throughout. This would be devastatingly funny if director Park weren't so good at elevating the tragedy out of the surreal. As is, it's too painful to laugh. It's a visually stunning picture, with shot composition and colour sense that still seem utterly unique 20 years later. Park is clearly criticizing the health care system in South Korea with this film, as well as satirizing its capitalistic nature. It's clear he's not a fan of either, but without more knowledge, I'm not well versed on the true impact of the critique, except to say that I felt it.
I didn't like watching this movie, I found it challenging to enjoy, but it's so purposeful and well crafted that it's really, really hard to dislike, and impossible to dismiss.
The Flash Scale: can't really even be put in the same conversation as The Flash. It's like comparing apples to The Flash.
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