Forget Star Wars, forget Hulkamania and the Ninja Turtles—for me, growing up in the early ’90s, it was always Indiana Jones. More specifically, Raiders and The Last Crusade on fuzzy VHS, plus a few tattered old comic books.
I was truly enthused for Kingdom of the Crystal Skull back in those naive days of 2008, expecting another classic adventure, before it ended up being the worst movie I’d ever seen. It felt like a cheap rip-off of Tomb Raider, the kind of comprehensive embarrassment that nearly discredited the entire franchise.
So when Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny was announced a few years ago, I was reflexively against it. Hadn’t Lucasfilm and Spielberg trashed their legacies and our childhoods enough? Disney had already ruined Star Wars et al with gratuitous wokery, why rub salt into the wounds?
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