If you care at all about this sort of thing, chances are quite good you already know: Sir Sean Connery was recently all, "I'm just not that into you" to Lucas, Spielberg, and Indiana Jones IV. Turns out, dude is really, really rich, well on his way to 80 years old, and not all that keen on ending his retirement to once again don the specs, trilby and bumble as Hank Sr.
Which, of course, only goes to further cement my theory: As blindingly awesome as it is to get paid millions and millions of dollars to fly to exotic locales and be an impossibly enormous movie star, it's several times blindingly awesomer to just have millions and millions of dollars, and not have to do, you know, anything. Something to consider, should you ever find yourself in the position to choose.
"I do, however, have one bit of advice for Junior," Connery told some lucky-ass AP writer who now gets to tell people that he talked to Sean Connery. "Demand that the critters be digital, the cliffs be low, and for goodness sake keep that whip by your side at all times in case you need to escape from the stunt coordinator."
That's Connery playfully jabbing a finger in Harrison Ford's eye, being all, "Enjoy the money, dude. Don't break a hip." (Not a direct quote.) See, Ford's not quite 12 years younger than his onetime onscreen pappy, which puts him at around 65, come this July.
Which brings us to the inevitable question: Does it really matter, either way, whether the (less-than-remarkably) elder Dr. Jones is back?
I should stop, at this point, and reveal a little something about myself, as it may color the way you read the rest of this babbling.
I'm not sure exactly how it happened (or didn't) -- I mean, I'm roundabout the right age and all -- but I don't really go crazy over Harrison Ford. I know, I know: I can't help it, though. It's not like I think he's bad or anything, and I certainly enjoy the Indy flicks, but the whole thing just doesn't blow my mind like it seems to do everyone else's.
Except for Temple of Doom. I could watch that sucker all day. Give me heart extractions, boxcar rides, and snake surprise every time.
What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that when I preemptively opine on the possible quality of IV (a bit of a silly exercise already), take it with a grain of salt, as your Indy-centric tastes and mine likely don't converge. (That's assuming, of course, that you're interested at all in the first place.)
Disclaimers aside, I figure, hey: No use cryin'. Would it have been at least more interesting with proto-Bond? Surely. Isn't anything? But it's over. And I'm not sure the action scenes won't be problematic enough as it is. Like I said, I respect Ford -- he's a walking legend -- but anyone who saw him nearly get his ass handed to him by Paul Bettany (who's a phenomenal actor, but not all that, um, beefy) last year in Firewall might have cause for concern. Everybody loves Shia, but we're not ready for the mantle to pass just yet. Still, Rocky Balboa worked, if only because Rocky's always the underdog. If they do the same with a creakier Indy, if they address the issue rather than run from it, I might buy it.
What really stokes confidence, though, is the other casting: With Ray Winstone, John Hurt, and Cate Blanchett along, how could things be that bad?
I'l admit: I'm interested. Get 'em, Dr. Jones. Singular or no.
Brian Villalobos lives in Austin, Texas (practically), writes on film and TV, and totally cried at Stuart Little.