By Mike Derderian
I’m sick of politics, treacheries and of what is happening to the entire world. We are nothing but sheep led by bloodthirsty cowboys, who think that they can rope the East as they easily did with the Wild West.
Alas, they are doing it right and soon this region will be nothing but a wasteland and what remains will be pillaged by the hands of raiders coming from the land of doom on a last and final crusade. By the way raiders, doom and crusade are three nouns that combine and form that title of three of my all-time favorite movies: The Indiana Jones trilogy.
Talk about coincidence but my first encounter with the archeologist dates back to 1986, when I first saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984), which is a prequel to the first of the trilogy Indian Jones and Raiders of the Last Ark (1981).
Bad guys of course where blood thirsty Nazis—a trend that became a benchmark in the first and third movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989). Inspired by two of cinema’s best and most renowned directors, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, Indiana Jones was a hit right from the start. He became one of Hollywood’s legendary screen icons and a symbol of the relentless and ordinaire hero bound for an adventure like no other.
To be honest I was bedazzled by Harrison Ford’s mannerism—let’s face it without Ford there’d be no Indiana Jones. We also wouldn’t have cars too…bad joke…but I had to write it.
I grew up repeating his words like: “I hate snakes Jock… I hate’em”, “Willie… we are going to die”, “Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory”, “Mola Ram prepare to meet Kali… in hell” and “Nazis… I hate these guys,” and many more that will stick in your mind too once you watch the trilogy.
Indiana Jones is the know-it-all archeologist, who is after the world’s most priceless and rare artifacts. You don’t see archeologists like Indiana Jones every day now, do you? Traveling the world carrying a gun (usually lost half way through the movie) and a bullwhip and wearing a fedora (a.k.a. the hat) that never falls off his head.
That’s what movie magic does it makes you believe and if you don’t believe you might as well sit home and watch a crappy reality show or captain Kangaroo reruns and smoke cigarettes until your lung collapse—it’s the year of Peeping Toms. Looking from a door hole is no longer a taboo.
Turn your television and you’ll know it is true. Renting or buying the Indiana Jones trilogy—whether in the VHS or DVD format—is buying movie magic at its best and most exciting times in cinema history ever.
I’m not going to tell you that I’m lucky, but I’m, for I have both and every now and then I enjoy watching Indiana doing his thing just for the fun of it.
I simply can’t remember how many times I have seen him pulling a gun and shooting a fierce swordsman; kissing Marion (Karen Allen) in Captain Katanga’s cabin; walking down the bug infested and booby trap packed catacombs of the temple of doom with Short Round (Ke Huy Quan) and boldly ride a horse chasing a Nazi tanker to save his father Doctor Henry Jones (Sean Connery), who is incarcerated in the belly of the metallic beast.