28 May 2012

No Time For Love, Dr. Jones


From that depressing moment when we wake up alive, we proceed to spend our entire day existing in a world of lies. With friends, families and strangers being granted the curse of speech, every living moment is simply another adventure up the river of bullshit. If Piers Morgan is anything to go by then the general rule should be that if it has a pulse and something resembling a face then just don't trust it, stab it with a fork, burn it with fire.

It's not only an exposure to people either that we should be worried about. All day long we're bombarded by adverts convincing us to buy shit that we don't need in exchange for our dignity, souls and, worst of all, cash. They tell us that wearing deodorant will get us laid and that eating chocolate will result in an orgasm. The only way that buying an aerosol might get you fucked is if you sprayed it directly into your victim’s eyes. There's only one possible process in which chocolate can make you cum and that's by slipping it melty-end first up the arse hole. In that unrealistically honest world ‘Toblerone’ would be shaped less like a mountain range and more like a sweet, honeycombed cock. With popping-candy…

Believe it or not but cinema too is guilty of its fair share of truth bending. If Pretty Woman was real, Julia Roberts wouldn't have found love with Richard Gere. She'd have been a crack addicted single mother who'd end the film rolled up in a rug and plunging headfirst towards a polluted river.

More importantly though according to the movies, archaeology is an action packed adventure through dangerous jungles after treasures and trinkets of huge cultural significance. In reality archaeologists are rarely allowed out in the sunlight and are only released to scrabble around in mud and dig up some shiny shit that was dropped a good time ago by a couple of long-dead wankers. If you ask me, an archaeologist is just a road sweeper with a degree.

But fuck it- I don't watch movies to see the truth, I watch them for entertainment. Watching the Indiana Jones Franchise is more fun than visiting a museum and anyone who says different is clearly wearing their anorak too tightly. At this point there are four movies in the series and despite the luke-warm reviews for Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I do hope they make another. Although, I do hope they make it quickly as I'd much prefer to watch Dr Jones searching for something because it's valuable and not just because his dementia has set in. As soon as we get to Indiana Jones and the Wreaking Stench of Piss it's probably high time to hang up the whip.

Now regarding the current four films, I'm not an idiot. I know that without question Raiders of the Lost Ark is clearly the best and most well made film of the franchise. I think it could also stake a claim to being one of the few perfect movies in existence. There are no skinny aliens, Jones always shoots first and it's presented in good old fashioned 2D. So far the only 3D film I've been excited about is Titanic and that's only so I can get a more accurate look at Kate Winslet's rounded tits.

As much as I love Raiders however, my guilty pleasure has got to be the hugely under-rated Temple of Doom. I'm not saying that it's the better film but simply that I get more boyish-giddyness out of it- kind of like visiting a prostitute for fun whilst your partner sleeps in bed at home. It's not that you love the whore more it's just that she lets you stick it up her bum without threatening to leave you the next day.

Temple of Doom starts off in a Shanghai nightclub and with an enjoyably catchy musical number. This is our introduction to Willie who is to be both Dr Jones's fresh slice of screaming fanny and also one of the biggest gripes people have with this film. After she finishes warbling and Indiana stops playing pass the poison with a couple of sinister looking misters, the two exit the club via the traditional method of jumping out the window. Luckily, to break their fall is Short Round, a young Japanese child who is both being groomed by Jones for his own personal reasons and also the second character in this film to get on some peoples tits.

After being chased by a mob of gunmen for seemingly not paying his drinks tab, Dr. Jones and his gang board a plane to escape. Unfortunately though the pilots’ shifts end mid-flight with them deciding to empty the fuel tank and fuck off home. I'm assuming this isn't standard aeronautical procedure although it's probably less dangerous than eating some of the shit they serve on commercial flights. I'd honestly much rather see the pilots pissing off past my window than put some of that processed gunk in my mouth. I ordered some bacon once that arrived to me in a small tin tray looking like a pork chopped vagina. Thanks to that flight, both Kermit and I now know what it feels like to go down on a pig.

As he sees the plane is about to crash, Indy has the genius idea of leaping head first out of the open door and surviving the fall in an inflatable dingy. Personally I wouldn't have thought that a thin sheet of rubber would make much difference at a height like that but I'm not a Doctor like Jones is, so fuck it what do I know. Thankfully the children's inflatable prevents the gang’s legs from penetrating their shoulders and instead they all go on an exciting ride down to the base of a mountain. At the bottom they are greeted by a surprise cameo from a mental looking Ghandi.

At the local village, Indy is finally told the plot of the film. Apparently both a magical stone and all of the local children have been stolen by a nearby ruler. If he can return the stone then everybody will be very grateful, if he has time to grab the kids too then even better. We're told that the people living here are starving due to the lack of food. Bringing the kids back would just result in more mouths to feed so sod them- just get the shiny fucking rock and let’s move on.

So like King Bitch of the Peasants, Jones does as he's told and trundles off to grab their treasure. This latest adventure takes in a lot as he encounters the usual booby-trapped rooms, a Donkey Kong mine cart chase and even witnesses the human sacrifice of a man that I'm pretty sure is Spud from Trainspotting.

Of course this film isn't as good as Raiders but that doesn't make it bad. For me the whole point of an Indy movie is to simply be fun and I don't think anyone could say this is dull. With its rip-out-hearts and demonic baddies, the film has been criticised for being too scary with Spielberg himself even stating that, “It was too dark, too subterranean, and much too horrific.” Personally, I just think this argument is a little bit bollocks- as a 10 year old watching it for the first time, I loved every second. Sure I got scared at times but that just added to the enjoyment. If I was that traumatised by it I wouldn't have spent the next few days putting my hand over people’s chests in an attempt to remove their hearts. In the end I figured it was quicker to just use a knife and blame it on God.

The action here too is just as exciting and just as relentless as you'd expect from a genre king like this. There's the opening club shoot out, conveyor belt wrestle, and of course the run away mine chase. Once things kick off, they just don't let up to the point where even I felt tired just from watching. If woman was made from one of Adams ribs then I can only assume that Harrison Ford was made from a slither of Thor's scrotum. The amount of stunts and scrapes that poor Dr. Jones goes through really is enough to make me wonder what my teachers were moaning about. All in the name of education, Indy is caught by a cult and forced to drink poison from a decapitated head. We only had one teacher who'd have been prepared to do that and that was mainly because she was a suspected alcoholic. 

The humour too is in my opinion much more obvious in this film. Temple of Doom caters exactly for my inner 8 year olds needs by clearly upping the icky with more bugs, gore and suspiciously coloured gunge. If I was Kate Capshaw and a fat man showed me his ‘snake surprise’, I think I'd be relieved when things started slithering across the table and he kept his porky little knob hidden firmly under his chubby pocket of belly-flab. Some people think the jokes here are a little too broad compared to the previous movie but they're wrong. Slap-stick or not they're still funny in the intended manner. The last movie had a singing Gimli, a Nazi-monkey and a fat man who can't take his drink, so neither film is exactly Oscar fucking Wilde.

When it comes to people’s gripes with this film, it seems the finger of blame is pointed at the inclusion of both Willie and Short Round. Regarding Willie, yes, she's a wailing pain in the arse but she's supposed to be. From what I can tell, she's a throw back to those scream-queens of ye olde Hollywood, with the pleasure being in not enjoying her company but seeing her in trouble. Willie has a horrible time throughout this movie and I'm glad because seeing her upset amuses me. When she shows up I don't think “I hope she survives”, I think “fuck her- throw another fucking spider in her face”. People wonder why Indy likes her but I don't think he does. He carries a whip around for God’s sake! Do we really think that kind of kinky, pervert is out hunting for marriage material? He's a guy and she's presumably got a working vagina so personalities are really not that relevant.

As for Short Round, I genuinely like him and I think the affection that Indy has for him is very sweet to watch. It's nice to see that Jones has a paternal side with it also being interesting to witness how similar his parenting is to his own father’s. Both Indy and Dr. Henry Jones prioritise teaching their kid independence which might also explain why we never see Short Round again. Either the child has been taught to stand on his own two feet or more likely Jones one day swapped him for a couple of camels at the market. The desert is a big place, if you're going to brave it you'll be needing something to fuck... Camels keep better secrets than little Japanese boys.

These two characters don't annoy me because throughout the film we're taking the piss out of them. Plus has anyone else seen The Fifth Element? I think once you've seen Chris Tucker in that then nobody ever seems annoying again. No matter what bible-bashing pain in the arse knocks on my front door, the first thing I always think is ‘Thank God it's not Chris Tucker’. If I can't see what that whiney slab of noise is doing, then there's always a chance he's just been killed in a car accident. I'm not saying that's what I'd want but just that's it's possible... In comparison, I think Willie could only be as irritating as Tucker if she stuck some bagpipes up her fanny and gassed out an hour long queef of sloppy, Scottish pain.

However- just because I don't mind those two doesn't mean I think the film is perfect. The main baddy doesn't show up for the first hour and even then we don't get to know him properly. He's kind of like Darth Maul in that he puts in a brief appearance, looks cool and then dies. It's not that I want to start dating these characters but it would be nice to know how they became the tattooed bloody rotters that they did. Mola Ram is the big-bad in Temple of Doom and yet he basically only pops up for a cameo at the end. Kind of like turning up at your own birthday party just to announce you're going home. Although I guess it's not too much of a problem because like a birthday party, everyone else is already having a good time without you.

Temple of Doom is so much fun that it deserves its status as a bona-fide classic. If music bypasses our logic and hits us directly in the emotion then this film heads straight for our inner youth and gives it a kick up the arse. It's well made, exciting, funny and everything you could want from an Indiana Jones film. I do like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull but there's no doubting that this film looks even better when compared to a bomb-proof fridge, pixelated gophers and renowned actual cannibal Shit laBeef swinging with the monkeys.

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