Eileen and I finally saw the fourth installment of the Indiana Jones “trilogy plus one”. To say I was disappointed doesn’t come close to accurately capturing my mood as I left the theatre. Shock, dismay, and anger would be more appropriate. Really? This is the best Indiana Jones film that can be made for $400 million dollars?

I didn’t really have high hopes even before I went to the cinema, but nobody prepared me for this. But, alas, I should have known right from the beginning when I saw the story credits included George Lucas. Somebody should really tell him that his scripts are terrible.

And he should listen up, and learn that CG of nuclear blast out in the desert, Communists chopping down the Amazon rain forests, aliens from somewhere other than Earth, and a big-name director are not suitable replacements for a well-written script. There was almost no redeeming value in this script, which I can only suggest is likely better to wrap up dead fish than to use in a high-talent action film.

Had it not been for the nostalgia of the original Indiana Jones movies, I would say this is the worst movie I’ve seen in a very long time; The Scorpion King, maybe, is still leading by a little bit. The most recent Star Wars movies are certainly in the running as well (and guess who was also involved in those scripts!) I think I see a pattern… It makes me wonder who really wrote the original Star Wars script.

In addition to George Lucas there is another name credited with the story. If I were Jeff Nathanson I would have asked to have my paycheck delivered to my house but my name dropped from the credits. David Koepp, the poor fellow credited with the screenplay, should have asked for similar treatment. Apparently the production went through eight writers, probably they just kept firing and hiring until they found someone who could tolerate working with the story as set out by Mr. Lucas.

This film was so cliche, so predictable, and so sloppy that it is possible that even Steven Spielberg must look back and think to himself “oh crap how did I get roped into this one.” Fire ants the size of grapefruits? The character Mutt swinging from trees like Tarzan? Mutt is the son of Henry Jones? Area 51 aliens? Shudder. Even a great director can’t fix a terrible script.

As you might have guessed, I won’t be picking up the Indiana Jones boxed DVD set for Christmas.