Detecting a lack of “heart” in Kingdom, jacksonpublick writes: “This is the same director who took 5 minutes out of his shark thriller to show an exhausted Brody bonding with his kid, and another 10 to show Brody, Hooper and Quint bonding on the Orca.” As Mr. Publick is no slouch at injecting emotional truths into compact, fast-moving narratives, maybe he has a point, maybe Kingdom does move too quickly, but I found plenty of “heart” in it — just in different places from where I was expecting to find it, and in different forms. There is plenty of interpersonal communication in the narrative, but it often turns the dynamic of the previous movies on its head (another classic Spielberg ploy). As

  correctly notes, almost every action that we expect from Indy is inverted in this movie, from the source of his employment to his habitual actions. And so the outgoing, daring Indy we know and love from the other movies now becomes the watchful, guiding, worrisome patriarch of the new one. His actions are still active, but they are the actions of a protective father instead of a carefree young (or middle-aged) man.

The “protagonist bonding with his kid” scene happens near the top of Act II of Kingdom, as Indy and Mutt walk through the gorgeous Peruvian Marketplace set on their way to the sanatorium. On the way, they discuss Mutt’s home life and the relative use of education. The first part of this conversation turns out to be important to the plot, the second part is important to the theme. Mutt craves experience, while his mom insists upon his gaining knowledge first. Seeming purely expository on first viewing, the scene picks up emotional gravity second time around.

Indy and Mutt arrive at the sanatorium, where we get a lingering glance at capital-M Madness as Mutt stares, horrified, at a mad Peruvian (a reference to a similar beat in Silence of the Lambs?). That moment, plus the interior of Oxley’s cell clearly indicates that this is, thematically, the Sanatorium For Men Who Know Too Much. (Thank goodness crazy people are graphomaniacs — otherwise, how would we ever know what had driven them crazy?) Oxley has left the extremely subtle thematic clue “RETURN” carved into the walls of his cell from top to bottom, along with several images of deformed skulls — whatever could this elusive message possibly mean?

(A couple of readers have complained that the puzzles in Kingdom are too easy, and that Indy has no problem solving them and is never wrong. I disagree: Indy is wrong several times during Kingdom and here is one instance — he thinks Oxley wants to return the Crystal Skull to its place of origin, when Oxley wants only to return it to the grave of the Conquistador Guy who stole it.)

Indy and Mutt venture out to the graveyard of Conquistador Guy, which is guarded by scary guys in skull masks, one of whom Indy kills (in defense) and one whom he drives off. I feel bad for the scary guys, who don’t seem to be employed by anyone, but are, rather, only trying to protect the cemetery from grave robbers — that is, people like Indiana Jones.

Inside the tomb of Conquistador Guy, Mutt finds skeletons of Mayans with deformed skulls. Indy explains that the natives would alter their skulls to look more like their gods. Mutt protests that “God doesn’t look like that,” and Indy answers “Depends on what your God looks like.” This comment looks ahead to the revelation of who the crystal skull belongs to, but also looks backward to the atom-bomb scene. 20th-century America established its 50-year run of world supremacy on the basis of the atom bomb, and in the process killed the old god and created a new god of Technology. As the narrative of Kingdom will eventually reveal, the ancient Mayans were way ahead of the US in worshiping a technological deity.

I’m not sure now why Indy and Mutt go to the Tomb of Conquistador Guy, except that it meant a lot to Oxley. In any case, they don’t find what they’re looking for — they find, instead, this Crystal Skull geegaw. (One of my companions at the movie complained that the Crystal Skull was a bad prop to build the movie around — too big to carry in a pocket, too small to have a proper amount of gravity, and present onscreen for too long to remain mysterious. Characters have to clutch it like a baby, or grocery bag, leaving them unable to fight or climb or run.) No sooner do they get the skull but they are captured by Irina Spalko and friends,including Indy’s friend/enemy Mac.

Spalko tells Indy the things he didn’t know about the crystal skull, ie that it is the skull of an extraterrestrial (“E.T.!” exclaimed Sam, who only just saw E.T. a few weeks ago), and, much as she earlier forced him to look for the box in Hangar 51, now forces him to gaze into the eyes of the crystal skull. And, just as Indy was conflicted earlier by his desire to know vs. his desire to stay alive, this time around submits to the temptation of the skull — the temptation to know.

(How extensively applied is the theme of “knowledge vs. experience” in Kingdom? That is, how badly does Indy want to know what’s inside the box and what will he do to find out? To hint at the answer, Spalko is wearing a haircut inspired by Louise Brooks, who was the star of a movie titled Pandora’s Box. Kingdom is, I’d say, Spielberg’s most thematically dense movie after Jurassic Park.)

Indy gazes into the crystal skull (an homage to Hamlet?) and it almost fries his brain — obviously, in the opinion of Kingdom, too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing. This is an essentially conservative viewpoint and points to the fundamental change in Indy’s (and, most likely, Spielberg’s) character. The young Indy was all about charging forward, taking chances, stealing fortune and damning consequences, the old Indy is about proceeding with caution, careful planning, replacing what has been taken and protecting those close to him.

He is also presented with Oxley (beforehand or afterward, I can’t remember now), who has gone stark raving mad from gazing into the skull — a preview of things to come. The “kingdom” of the title, it will eventually be made clear, is knowledge itself, and the ruler of the kingdom of knowledge must be careful about gazing too deeply into the skull — knowledge, without experience, can only lead to amorality and death.

Spalko reveals her evil plan to Indy (your basic “rule the world” scenario, although Spalko, at least, is a patriot who shows no signs of wanting to overthrow or outlive Stalin — more than I can say for Raiders’ Belloc or Crusade‘s Donovan) and then demands that he help them get some sense out of Oxley. Indy refuses and is presented with Marion Ravenwood, the woman he loved and abandoned at least twice that we know of, and who is, we are told, Mutt’s mother. So Indy, at the close of Act II, has acquired an almost-family, and has suddenly taken on the responsibilities of not only a mentor to Mutt but a guilty ex to Marion (and, for that matter, to Oxley). Indy’s character of charging forward and leaving a “trail of human wreckage” (in Marion’s words) comes careering home to him in this moment and forces a change within him — looking out for himself vs. looking out for others.

More later.

He is born into the world of the movie from a car trunk, kidnapped by Russians led by Irina Spalko, and forced into helping them uncover an artifact from “Hangar 51.” We are told that he was found “digging in the dirt” in Mexico — that is, working as an archaeologist, gathering artifacts to put in a museum.

(What is Mac doing in the trunk? Is he also an archaeologist? What were they doing in Mexico together? It’s unclear. What is clear is that Mac is a reflection of Indy — Indy searches for artifacts to put them in museums, Mac searches for treasure to enrich himself. Indy is an academic — “a teacher”, as Mutt says, with varying degrees of credulity.)

Indy helps Spalko find the box she’s looking for — partly because she’s forcing him to, partly because he is also curious about what’s in the box. We are told that he participated in the retrieval of the thing in the box from “ten years ago,” and yet he knows little more about it than Spalko does. Spalko seeks the artifact for its power, but Indy simply wants “to know.”

Once he “knows” what’s in the box, his intent becomes “to put it back where it belongs.” This is a marked change for Indiana Jones, who up until now was content to trash temples, grab the idol, and put it in a museum (or hand it over to a gangster, as he does at the beginning of Temple of Doom). “To put it back where it belongs,” which we can shorten to “to set things right” for our purposes, is Indy’s motivation throughout Kingdom.

He seeks knowledge of the thing in the box (which is mummified remains) and soon finds himself confronted with the ultimate product of the 20th-century’s thirst for knowledge — the atomic bomb. (Later in the movie, Spalko quotes Oppenheimer quoting Shiva, but Spielberg surely remembers that Oppenheimer’s [or somebody’s] first words upon seeing the explosion of the atomic bomb was “Science has now known sin.”) This all seems thrilling and chaotic in the context of a first viewing, but the pursuit of knowledge, and the danger of that pursuit, is the theme that ties together all the plot lines of Kingdom. (Hence the emphasis on Indy being a “teacher.”)

After witnessing the terrible destructive power of the atomic bomb, the next thing that happens to Indy is he finds himself being interrogated by a couple of g-men about the thing in the box. (In a rare non-Spielberg reference, the scene directly recalls the interrogation of Richard Kimble in The Fugitive.) Indy, who fought the Nazis not once but twice to keep them from taking over the world, now finds his patriotism being questioned by a couple of Men in Black. The man who is pulled out of a car trunk after a 19-year absence finds himself in a world very different from the one he left at the end of Last Crusade. Things he once knew to be true are now called into question by the reigning authorities. The “intelligence” men, we would say, have acquired too much knowledge — their wealth of knowledge has blinded them to what anyone could plainly see.

(Indy being rescued from his interrogation by “General Ross” hard upon surviving an atomic blast is another question — what is Bruce Banner’s antagonist doing in this movie?)

The “intelligence” men are so far gone in their pursuit of knowledge that they ransack Indy’s office at his university (which I guess is Yale), force him out of his job and even force his boss out of his job. So the “intelligence” men, in their pursuit of knowledge, trash the traditional pinnacle of knowledge, the university. The American intelligence men are aided in their quest by Russian intelligence men, the “good guys” in unintended league with the “bad guys” against our protagonist.

(The corollary to “knowledge” in Kingdom is “experience.” The intelligence men may “know” things, but Indy’s “experience” proves things — General Ross says as much to the g-men. Pure knowledge, the movie suggests, is destructive, while knowledge combined with experience can be a useful tool for achieving things — like solving a puzzle, finding a lost friend or escaping a trap. The atomic bomb is a perfect example of knowledge minus experience.)

Enter Mutt. Mutt has lost his beloved Oxley (which, well, let’s just accept for now that Oxley is important to Mutt — we are told this rather than shown it, but let’s go with it for now). Indy has his own emotional attachment to Oxley (which we will understand later) and agrees to help Mutt — if he can keep them one step ahead of the Russians, who are after Indy for reasons that will eventually become clear.

(The “knowledge vs. experience” theme is underlined during the motorcycle chase scene, where Indy advises a student that a real archaeologist knows that he has to “get out of the library.” This would come as a surprise to the younger Indy, who advised his students the exact opposite.)

Mutt has a coded note from Oxley which Indy decodes after a furrowing of his brow and the two of them head off to Peru in search of Oxley.

Now then: who is Mutt? Mutt is, of course, another reflection of Indy. We could say that he has neither Indy’s knowledge nor his experience, but he does have his determination, his recklessness, his will. (There’s a nice moment during the motorcycle chase where Mutt grins about some stunt he’s just pulled and Indy frowns disapprovingly, an exact echo of a similar moment between Indy and his father in Last Crusade. This is how we know Mutt is Indy’s son before Indy does.) Mutt feels things too much, does things on impulse, in general lacks direction — lacks a father, one could say. It would seem that Oxley is a sort of father figure to Mutt, and nothing excites Spielberg’s emotions more than a child separated from his father.

(Now that Spielberg is a father himself many times over, his movies, which were once full of father’s abandoning their families, are now full of older, wiser fathers returning to their families, and Kingdom, we shall see, is not only a worthy addition to this new tradition, but a specific repudiation of Spielberg Past — but don’t let me get ahead of myself.)

Mr. Publick finds a lack of “genuine emotion” in the movie, but I find the opposite — Indy gets put through more emotional changes more quickly than in any of the other movies. First he’s tired and pissed at the Russians, then he’s angry at Mac for betraying him, then he’s terrified and awed by the atomic blast, then he’s suspicious and angry at the g-men, then he’s quickly hurt and then forgiving to his boss at the university, then he’s concerned about Oxley, all in the first act. Maybe that’s the problem — if the movie doesn’t stop and underline the changes, the sheer number of them starts to feel like glibness or superficiality.

Anyway, unless I’m mistaken, everything from Hangar 51 to Indy’s departure for Peru with Mutt constitutes the first of four acts, which makes this a good place to stop for now. We could say that Act I is: Indy, thrust into a world he cannot recognize, where the use of knowledge has been perverted to cast doubt on experience, is given an opportunity to find another lost academic and seizes it.