[8.3/10] Nostalgia is a trap. So is “they don’t make things like they used to.” If you read *The Tale of Genji*, a novel written a thousand years ago, you’ll find that the characters there lament the decline of the next generation and wax poetic about the good old days. It’s easy to look at the past with a gauzy hue and toward the future with a dark tint.

But by god, it is the rare blockbuster, today or in any age, that comes with as much charm, craft, and above all else *character* as *Raiders of the Lost Ark*.

You’ll be hard-pressed to find any tentpole release in the modern day that feels this real. Don’t get me wrong, the film is stylized. Director Stephen Spielberg deploys his typically brilliant shot selection and cinematography. He and cinematographer Douglas Slocombe find unique framings that catch our protagonist’s eye through a latticework or wide shots that carry the excitement of a frantic Indy running away from a horde of angry locals. The production team plays around with light and shadow, especially, using them to heighten a big entrance or color the mood of a given scene. The compositions are elegant, but plainly constructed.

Likewise a few obvious green screen setups amid swirling clouds give the film an appropriately *Ten Commandments*-esque quality in places. And in the climactic final scene, the animated smoke and spirits that swirl around hero and villain alike come with an ethereal, but obviously unreal vibe that pervades the set piece. No one would mistake this rollicking archeological adventure for a taste of cinema verite.

And yet, the world of the film feels lived-in and populated, with crowds of people in dusty squares and packrat spaces within cozy corners. The movie seems profoundly tactile, with close up shots of Indy’s hands sweeping away sand and feeling for the groove in an ancient map room emblematic of Spielberg and company’s approach. The locations seem authentic and alive, from the intricate ancient temple that spawned a thousand imitators to the windswept desert plains lined with workers. And not for nothing, it is a profoundly sweaty, dirty film; the characters perspire and get wounded and roughed up and messy from beginning to end.

The modern day blockbuster is often pristine, sometimes to the point of being antiseptic. None of that quality is present in *Raiders of the Lost Ark*, a movie that is tremendously crafted but nonetheless feels rugged and ragged in all the right ways for the story it’s telling.

That freewheeling quality extends to the characters, Indiana Jones in particular. Spielberg and creative partner George Lucas harness the cheat code that is Harrison Ford’s motley charm. But despite his prodigious skills. Indy comes off nicely imperfect and downright human in places, in a way few action heroes are allowed to be, thanks to Lawrence Kasdan’s script.

Yes, Indy is a sharp-eyed adventurer, plotting his way through booby trap-ridden temples and knocking around bad guys like nobody’s business. He’s sly enough to talk his way out of trouble, or at least delay until the cavalry arrives. He’s smart, even a touch nerdy despite his knockaround bona fides, checking Egyptian symbols against his notes and writing down his discoveries. He’s undeniably manly and slick, in the tradition of Ford’s 1980s archetype roles.

But he also gets tricked and outfoxed at every turn. He sprints frantically from the locals chasing after him and crashes haphazardly into the water. He takes as many blows as he delivers and gets knocked on his ass more than a few times. He falls asleep pre-coitus. He relies on his ex and his best friend to save his behind from some tight spot he’s found himself in on more than one occasion. And in one hilarious moment, he admits that he’s making all of this up as he goes along.

In short, he’s a bundle of talents but also human foibles, to where he’s not as much a role model or idol but some tomb raider with sweaty schmuck energy able to hack it just long enough to win the day. It’s charming, even endearing, in a way a square-jawed, endlessly admirable good guy just isn’t. More than anything, Indy as a protagonist supports that enjoyable rough-and-tumble energy of the film.

It helps that there is remarkably little exposition in *Raiders of the Lost Ark*. After the opening sequence, we get a few conversations with Indy’s benefactor and some G-Men to set the stage. But from there, we get remarkably little detail on Indy’s history with Marion Ravenwood, his rivalry with René Belloq, or his friendship with Sallah. Spielberg and company just throw the audience into the water, let the conversations and dynamics evolve naturally, and expect us to keep up when the performances and the personalities involved fill in the gaps organically.

It works! There are remarkably few scenes to signpost what happened or what’s happening with Indy and Marion. And yet, from the way they react and respond to one another, from mutual disdain to charming banter to mutual rescues, you buy their playfulness not just as a couple but as partners. For her part, Marion is certainly an object of affection, a point underscored a little too much and too often. But she is also spunky, rambunctious, and full of guts and guile on her own terms. She drinks and fights and stands her ground with the best of them. Ultimately, she is Indy’s equal, not his trophy, and a spirited, memorable performance from Karen Allen boosts every.

The same goes for nearly all of the major roles of the film. Ronald Lacey is downright terrifying as Toht, the malevolent gestapo inspector, torturing and intimidating with a sadistic glee. Sallah is gregarious and warm, helping his pal out of jam after jam and conveying the sense of a longtime brotherly relationship between the two. Paul Freeman’s Belloq is a worthy adversary, regularly getting the best of Indy, managing up with his Nazi benefactors, and coveting Marion in a way that both humanizes him for the attraction and demonizes him for his callous possessiveness.

Those players make a fairly simple “multiple camps look for a macguffin or two” plot come alive. There are double crosses, daring schemes, tricks and ruses that would boost any action-adventure flick. But throughout all of them, these characters spark off one another, they joke with one another, they taunt or tease one another. It makes the quiet moments and the big action set pieces alike no mere exercises in big screen spectacle, but the playground of colorful personalities whose interactions with one another are full of life.

Those action sequences are damn good, though! The opening entrance to the temple and escape from boulders, betrayers, and rival adventurers alike is rightly iconic for how much exquisite detail and excitement Spielberg and company pack in. The search for kidnapped allies through the streets of Cairo, the race to the ark, and the fisticuffs along the way are all aces. And the closing ethereal onslaught, with melting faces and biblical torrents of fire, adds a striking horrorshow element to the theatrics.

Admittedly, In some places, the up-tempo fireworks can go on to the point of exhaustion. The stretch from Indy uncovering the Ark to he and his pals getting it on a boat out of town stacks sequence on top of sequence, with little time to stop and take stock. The action is undeniably well-done, but in the absence of downtime, the attention wanes and the impact diminishes.

Despite that, Spielberg and company aren't afraid to let moments breathe when they need to. In Cairo, Indy and Belloq have an extended verbal tet-a-tet that holds the same creative shot for minute after minute to heighten the atmosphere. The wordless scene where Indy finds the right height for the Staff of Ra and spotlights his destination is a masterclass in letting a steady build lead you to an exciting crescendo. Even the casual playfulness between Marion and Indy on the boat back home feels like the kind of softer, human moment that's missing from too many movies.At its best, the mix between calm and craziness throughout *Raiders of the Lost Ark* helps the piece land on both fronts.

There’s not much of a point to it all, but it doesn't really matter. There’s an interesting throughline (it would be too much to call it an arc) of Indiana Jones as a skeptic of the supernatural only to find himself faced with the mystical will of god. There’s a recurring theme of Indy tracking down his prize through guile and derring-do only to have some interloper take it away from him in the end, whether it's Belloq or the government’s infamous “top men.” And to the same end, there’s a motif of Indy losing prize after prize in his adventures, only to find something more valuable in rekindling his relationship with Marion. But in truth, this is all set dressing to the scene-by-scene fun and excitement the film has an offer.

There are setups and payoffs, from a disdain for snakes to poisoned dates. There are little fun bits of character in so many flashy set pieces, from Marion guzzling from a stream of whiskey before taking down a brute, to Indy famously just shooting his sword-spinning adversary. And there’s odd but endearing quirks at play throughout, from Nazi-sntiching monkey accomplice who falls victim to his owner’s own evil scheme to a bare knuckle Bavarian brawler felled by a propeller blade. *Raiders of the Lost Ark* is full of distinctive choices in a way few movies writ large, let alone blockbusters, are.

That said, while the throwback nature of the movie comes with an attention to detail and permission to be sloppy and whimsical that seems to have been drummed out of other pictures, it also comes with some distasteful reflections of the time. *Raiders* comes with multiple uncomfortable instances of brownface. While Indy’s friendship with Sallah and sympathy for the plight of the laborers helps soften the blow, a lot of the non-white locals across Indy’s travels are treated like disposable mooks at best and embarrassing stereotypes at worst.

Jones’ globe-trotting adventures, true to their influences, come with a certain exoticizing gaze that is rooted in backwards tropes and perspectives. It’s a problem, and it’s something that can't be simply compartmentalized because it pervades the film.

But taking the good with the bad, *Raiders of the Lost Ark* still feels like a glorious anomaly in any age. The wild-eyed energy, the faltering hero, the memorable personalities, the sparkling-yet-shaggy sequences, and the fantastic texture of the piece all elevate the film into rarified air.

Nostalgia remains a pit no less perilous than the one the villains dump Indy and Marion into. Every age, of fantastical cinema and real life history, comes with its ups and downs. But by god, they don’t make ‘em like this anymore.