Bulls*** Fan Theory Corner: Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom Reconsidered

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September 3, 2011 by Josh

Temple of Doom is without question the odd duck of the Indiana Jones trilogy (I prefer a version of the world where Crystal Skull doesn’t exist). One can easily see the similarities between Raiders and Last Crusade; both feature Nazis, strong-willed female leads, desert settings, relics pulled from the Judeo-Christian tradition, and John Rhys-Davies. Temple of Doom departs sharply, barreling through the jungles of India with a half-cocked understanding of Hindu customs and a little too much reliance on gross-out sight-gags, and a scrappy child sidekick. Since it is a bit of a black sheep in a prestigious bloodline, it is my contention that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom takes place entirely in the cerebral cortex of one Short Round.

How did I reach this conclusion? First off, the opening musical/dance sequence. One can simply shrug it off as Spielberg’s boner’s thank-you letter to Kate Capshaw, but I think it a little more provocative. Mostly because it’s a DANCE SEQUENCE IN AN INDIANA JONES MOVIE, and most of the lyrics are sung in Chinese, the English refrain being “anything goes”. This suggests the rules that govern Indy’s reality have been suspended, leaving our hero in a great deal more peril than any previous or future installment of the series. Indy barely escapes the opening sequence alive; narrowly escaping death by poison and gunfire and a fall from a 10 story building. And he’s saved by a pre-pubescent Asian boy. As the film goes on, more scenes depart from any semblance of plausibility. Namely the life-raft parachute, a fist fight in which Indy sends a thug sliding at least 6 feet across the ground, and the much-beloved mine cart chase. The reason these bits do not fit in with the other two movies: plausibility. The stunts in the other films are nowhere near as outlandish. They are definitely unlikely, but they are a little easier for the mind to wrap around than a life-raft falling from the sky or a mine cart stomping a landing.

Besides the complete disregard for the laws of physics, the over-all aesthetic of the film is completely foreign to those of Raiders and Last Crusade. The Indian setting of Temple of Doom is far more colorful and stylized than the drab deserts of the other two. Yes, part of that is a simple change in setting, but many of the scenes are bathed in an otherworldly red glow, evoking far more dread than any of Indy’s other adventures.

Then, the characters. Willie Scott is quite the odd-woman-out when compared to Marion Ravenwood and Elsa Schneider. Willie is the eternal damsel in distress, a spoiled rich girl torn from her element, a male fantasy. The women of the other two films, while vulnerable in their own ways, also show a distinct tenacity and unbreakable will to live. They could serve as true companions to Indy in an ideal world. Willie just manages to ruin his day. Then there’s Short Round. Including a 10 year old in the dangerous world of archaeology is grossly irresponsible on the part of Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. No matter how tenacious Shorty is, the fact that he survived the whole ordeal is a miracle. Even though he did make it out alive, Indy should probably face some sort of child endangerment charge. Because of this further breach of plausibility, one can only conclude that the world of Temple of Doom is entirely in the boy’s head.

It just makes more sense this way. The stylized, nightmarish set-pieces, fantastical impossible physical stunts, and a damsel in distress, these are all elements of fantasy, more so than anything in the other films. And if it is a fantasy, it couldn’t possibly by Indy’s. Why would he want the liability of caring for a small child? Why would he want a vapid bimbo when he could go on awesome adventures with a capable companion? He wouldn’t.  Short Round wants to be Indy’s best friend, he wants him to save a damsel in distress and eat chilled monkey brains, and we get to come along for the ride.

These points may all seem like strikes against its favor, but the truth is, Temple of Doom may be my favorite Indy film. It’s such a blatant rejection of the precedents set by Raiders that it borders on self-parody. But it manages to maintain a sense of dread that makes it stand out from the other films. And, these differences allow people like me to overanalyze it and make bullshit claims about what’s really going on.