I woke up this morning with all the trepidation of a condemned man on the dawn of his last day. God knows I wanted a cigarette and my last words were already waiting patiently on my lips: "You wanna talk to God? Let's go see him together. I've got nothing better to do..." Instead I was meeting an old lover. I set myself up for disappointment; after all, things that were once that wonderful can rarely ever be again. I actually fussed a little over my outfit. Was I dressed appropriately? Was my hair out of my eyes? Would I resemble at all the girl I was when we first met? Fresh faced and mop-topped, without all the care I wear in the circles under my eyes today? I had to talk myself down from a shot of Jameson to calm my nerves, reminding myself that it was still morning. I left my apartment early to gingerly make the trek to our rendezvous spot. I thought it only fitting that my mp3 player only found melancholy love songs to play today. When I got there, I took a seat and placed my jacket on my chair, as if to reserve a spot for him. A few feet away from me, a young and handsome man waited alone as well, also marking an empty chair with a jacket. We nodded to each other, a rare and fleeting moment of human connection in a day that had to feel just as lonely for him as it did for me. What if the love of my life didn't show? Or worse, what if he showed up without even a shadow of the man I had grown to love and spent a lifetime worshipping. I would soon have the answer. The lights dimmed and my heart leaped to my throat, my eyes welling with tears as that cherished name came across the screen once again.
A few confessions: I have said this before, but I haven't extrapolated as I must now. My apartment is covered in Star Wars memorabilia, it's true. Star Wars has always been marketed better. In truth, though, my heart belongs to Indiana Jones (that's Dr. Jones, to you). When I was first introduced to him, I was too young for him (five when
Last Crusade released), much like Marion Ravenwood was when their paths first crossed. I was a child and I didn't fully understand but I do now. My love has grown and developed as I have, waxing and waning from adolescent lust that I didn't quite comprehend (particularly during two scenes in
Raiders and
Last Crusade that I'm not proud of...) to wishing that every man that broke my heart had the good sense to leave "forever", only to return years later wearing a leather jacket and a fedora so I could greet him with a right cross to the jaw. (Marion Ravenwood served as a role model for a young Shannon which today makes a lot of sense...) Before I became old and cynical at 24, and I dreamed of marriage, I wanted an Indy/Marion themed wedding far more than a Han/Leia wedding. (Shut up. I would have walked down the aisle to "Marion's Theme" and Marion had a white dress even!!!) Most importantly though, Indiana Jones deepened my love of knowledge and my desire to quest wherever I needed to to find it because he made it so noble and exciting. At three, before even hearing of Indiana Jones, I was deeply set on becoming an Egyptologist, so you can imagine what happened when I first saw
Raiders of the Lost Ark three years later. I've watched
Raiders of the Lost Ark and
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade countless times (yes, more than I've watched Star Wars) and recently have come to appreciate
Temple of Doom for
what it is. The point is that these movies through worn out VHS cassettes and oft played DVDs are a part of who I am, perhaps more than any other movies ever. I put a lot on the line by even seeing this today. I risked my childhood and several angry hours of potential ranting.
For the most part, I was not disappointed. I will freely admit that nostalgia probably saved this movie for me. I have never seen an Indiana Jones flick on the big screen, and I was entirely charmed alone by the notion of finally doing that. There were very few references to the trilogy that I found to be heavy handed. In fact, I can only think of one. Everything else was in keeping with the characters (perhaps save Marion) and made me smile, laugh out loud, or clap. And the allusions that touched me the most were not quotes, or jokes, but just thematic moments, enhanced by a musical theme from whichever movie they were referencing. For instance, there was a particularly nice moment on the motorcycle calling to mind another nice moment on a motorcycle. This might be a touch best resonating with fans like me that can quote an Indy movie just by a random score track being played, though. (That was a game for my high school sweetheart and I during long phone conversations: he would fast forward to a random part of
Last Crusade, make sure there was no dialogue or sound effects and play a couple seconds to see if I could quote the next scene...)
But like so many love stories, this one does not have a happy ending. There is no ride into the sunset, no closing kiss for Dr. Jones and I. This is not just because of the dismal third act of the movie, either. Our reunion suffered, as so many reunions do, from the very relics and memories that spawned the necessity of reunion in the first place. The memories and the fondness associated with them become their own entity, and grow to replace that which they memorialize in the first place. This is not to say that I no longer love Indy, only that once again my love has evolved and grown. He's older now. So am I. While the cynical intellect and chiseled jaw are still there, my dearest Dr. Jones is not the man I fell in love with anymore. My suspicions are that he never was, as people my age were raised with Indiana Jones as his own entertainment empire, and not the loving tributes to early film adventure serials that the films were intended to be. And now that I'm older, I can accept that. I can love my new understanding of the thing. And I can still hold on to the girlish crush that I've had since 1990, when I sneaked
Raiders of the Lost Ark to the basement, and I ran screaming from the room at the sight of all those spiders only to return timidly just in time to see Marion throwing back shots - a particularly rebellious act for a woman in my super-Catholic household- and sat enthralled as the adventure unfolded in front of me. No, there was no "Happily Ever After" for us, I knew there couldn't be, but there were bittersweet tears of joy at the person I've become and the character he's remained. It was good to hear what he's been up to and comforting to know he hasn't compromised himself. While I wouldn't say no to another drink with him someday, I can finally stop wondering "what if..."
Indiana Jones. I always knew some day you'd come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable.
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blindmeadowlark's journal
