Raiders of the Lost Ark (Paramount Pictures, 1981)

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If I had to describe my philosophy on writing, I would say that my voice is at it’s best when I am embracing the spirit of brutal honesty. In my opinion, the best writing is when the author shares a unique, unfiltered perspective expressing total clarity. I believe this is as true for books and screenplays as it is for movie reviews, or whatever you would call my particular brand of analytical self-handjobbery.

For that reason, I must be honest and admit that this is my third time sitting down to review the Raiders of the Lost Ark. I am struggling to find a perspective to take on this movie. That’s not because it’s not good – it is actually extremely well crafted and dripping with mainstream appeal. If you aren’t familiar, I believe that “what is good” and “what I like” are two distinct things, and Raiders solidly qualifies as both. I just don’t feel like there’s much to say about it. Alas, that leaves me little choice: If I can’t find a perspective on the film itself, I must try to understand why I can’t find a perspective on the movie.

This sort of absurd self-indulgence (or self-consciousness) is exactly why I’m a hit at parties. Err, why I’m hit at parties. With fists.

This is Not the Greatest Movie in the World, This is Just a Tribute

In reviewing my long list of stray thoughts while watching Raiders, one of the comments I found the most amusing is that “this movie feels like a tour through EPCOT.” If, somehow, some way, you aren’t familiar, EPCOT is a Disney theme park in hot-as-balls Orlando that is basically a place where you can go and eat and drink around the world. There’s not much to do there, and it’s very gimmicky. It’s really kind of stupid, which is why it’s my favorite of the parks. Sure, there are some rides. But the one that sums it up the most is Canada’s ride, which is just a short documentary about Canada from 1981 that is displayed in a 360 panoramic view.

Raiders is from 1981. Coincidence?

Yes. Yes, I think it’s honestly just a coincidence.

But the reason I find this comment so amusing is because the film feels so perfectly crafted that it does not feel like reality; it feels like a tribute to reality.

The set design. The practical effects. The blocking. The action sequences. The over-the-top characters – caricatures, more accurately. It all feels so slick and polished that it’s almost cloying. Almost.

I don’t think it ever strays into territory that feels too campy. It is precisely calibrated to be just real enough, but retains the fantasy of the adventure. The movie’s kind of like a candy apple: it’s based on something real, but with lots of artificial sweetening on top designed to delight the senses.

If I sound like I’m being dismissive here, I’m not. I think that the degree of artistry in the film is astounding. But who gives a shit what I think? Don’t take my word for it – look at it’s pervasive influence on pop culture: the references to the stone ball chasing our protagonist, the set pieces of fighting in, on, and generally all around vehicles, perhaps even the formula for the action-adventure genre itself.

Think about it: How many films follow a lone hero on a quest to obtain some object (also known as a MacGuffin), which is also being sought out by a malevolent institution bent on world domination, and happen to find a love interest in between action set pieces?

I mean, it’s basically half the movies in the MCU. Hell, it even applies to Wonder Woman.

Don’t Stop Believin’

Did you know that Journey is a supergroup? I didn’t until I googled “bands made up of people from other bands” and stumbled onto the “List of Musical Supergroups” page on Wikipedia.

That’s my method. I’m not proud of it. But it’s the truth.

But yeah, Journey – purveyor of classics like “Don’t Stop Believin'” – was a supergroup, comprised of musicians from Santana, the Steve Miller Band, and The Tubes and Frumious Bandersnatch, the latter two of which I can’t speak to, but it’s on Wikipedia, so it must be true.

Given it’s outsized influence, it should not be surprising that Raiders was created by a kind of movie supergroup:

  • Produced and Story by George Lucas (Star Wars)
  • Directed by Steven Spielberg (Jaws)
  • Screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan (Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back)
  • Scored by John Williams (Fucking everything ever, he’s John Williams!)
  • Starring Harrison Ford (The Star Wars Holiday Special)

So what does that give us?

  • The sprawling epic adventure, magic, and special effects of Star Wars
  • The blockbuster scale and villainous Nazis, and occasional nod to Judaism of Munich, Saving Private Ryan, and Schindler’s List
  • The keeping George Lucas in check of The Empire Strikes Back and, notably unlike Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, where we find out what Lucas will do if given money and an endless supply of sycophantic underlings reinforcing every bad idea that passes through his head
  • The feelings of a score by John Williams – oh god, so epic
  • The portrayal of the lovable scoundrel that only Harrison Ford can provide

In fact, something about Raiders feels very Star Wars-y to me. It’s almost as if someone sat back, said, “Let’s take the guys who made a metric fuck-ton of money with Star Wars, but have it directed by the guy who made a metric fuck-ton of money with Jaws,” and then sat back and did a line of coke off a Rubik’s cube.

(I am aware that doesn’t make sense, but it’s thematic, OK? I’m sure the coke would get all trapped in the little gaps in the Rubik’s cube. Wasteful, really.)

Raiders is basically Star Wars minus everything holding Han Solo back, including pesky things like a heart. You’ve got a rogue that travels to exotic locales, has a troubled past, meets a dark-haired beauty who shares an awkward kiss in front of him, fights fascists, that sort of thing.

But actually, one thing that struck me is how Indiana Solo is basically just Han Solo with a heart. I mean this guy is a dick. In the course of 115 minutes he manages to throw sand in people’s faces, get a guy sliced up by a propeller, shoot a guy holding a sword, kick a guy in the nuts, abandon a love interest to stay with Nazis so he can keep going on his adventure, AND pilfer ancient temples to rob indigenous cultures of their priceless historical artifacts.

Indiana is certainly much less redeemable than Han Solo, which I actually like. He struggles, he fails at times, he gets an ass kicking. He fights dirty. He truly loves archaeology, or at least he must if the pay is so bad he’s got to go through all of this shit. Above all else, he is totally unrepentant.

I mean, I would have changed majors for sure. Then again, what good did studying film do me? Writing crass movie reviews for fun? Yikes.

Oh, by the way – “Don’t Stop Believin'”? 1981, too.

Shocked and Offended

I would be remiss to point out one other little thing: I can’t believe this movie is PG. I would say it’s 99.9% PG. The other 0.1% is a guy getting shot through the head like a zombie in a Romero film and people’s fucking faces melting off from looking directly into the Ark of the Covenant. I am not bothered by this – personally I think it’s kind of awesome – but I have a kid now so I think about that kind of shit. I’d be scarring my kid for life, which obviously he gets more than enough of by having me as a parent.

Won’t someone think of the children? Won’t someone think of the fucking children? What the fuck, man? I mean, does this shit look kid friendly to you, bro?

Raiders of the Lost Ark: WHAT'S IN THE BOX?!
What’s in the BOX?!

I wonder if that’s mayo and ketchup? Hm, I’m hungry, now that I think about it.

Verdict

Worth watching. I don’t know that anyone needs to buy it – it’s the template for like every other action adventure film ever made. In a sense, if you own any movies at all, there’s a pretty good chance you already own one of its descendants.