A lament to childhood lost

Many of us grew up with a childhood hero. Someone we'd look up to, someone we respected, someone who could do no wrong, and someone who we aspired to be.

For me, that person was Indiana Jones. He was everything I wanted to be as a child. I imagined myself travelling the world, searching for treasure and taking on the bad guys with my trusty whip at my side.

I had a whip as a kid, and spent many an afternoon practicing (although I was never able to master it quite like Indy). He was someone I idolised so much, I even studied archaeology at university.

Tonight I watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. This was something I had been looking forward to for some time, the eager anticipation of seeing my hero in another instalment of pure adventure almost too much to bear.

I have learnt the hard way, through bitter experience, not to have too many expectations when it comes to sequels. Especially sequels with a very long period in between. Even more especially when the original or originals are such fine pieces of stand-alone cinematic work. I use Star Wars here to illustrate my point. Now, don't get me wrong, I did enjoy the three prequels, but they were certainly nothing on the original three, and definitely did nothing to add to them. As standalone films, they were OK, as additions to the original three films, I think they were wrong on so many levels.

With this film, though, it was almost impossible for me to not have expectations. If Einstein came back from the dead and said he was going to do a bit more work on his Theory of Relativity, we'd have some expectations. If JFK came back from the dead and said he was going to sort out this whole sorry mess in the US, we would likewise have some expectations. And so it was the same with me and Indiana Jones. You don't go and watch another adventure with your favourite hero after almost twenty years without some sort of expectation.

Were my expectations met? Well, sadly not quite. In two short hours I watched my entire childhood, everything I ever believed in, crumble and fall away before my eyes. I was devastated. Not quite to the point of hysteria, but not far off it. I could not, still cannot, believe what they did to my Indy.

They had my Indy chasing aliens. They gave him a kid, and they married him. They gave him cheesy lines, way more cheesy than the earlier three films, and...well, he just wasn’t the same. He just didn’t feel like my Indy anymore.

Now, I know twenty years is a long time, and people change. Of course Indiana would have changed. But he never would have become they lame old man I saw tonight. No way. The real Indy would have kept his charm, his cool and his wit well into his old age. He would have been the Rolling Stones of archaeology. Still rocking, not quite what he used to be for sure, but still undeniably cool.

Thanks to George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, though, he simply is not. He’s not the cool hero he should be. He’s now the Barry Manilow of archaeology. Old, cheesy and someone you’re too embarrassed to admit you like (even though you might keep a few tracks buried deep in your iPod – I don’t though...honest).

I tried to talk about this with my partner. He didn’t get it. I tried harder. He still didn’t get it. I tried everything I could to get him to understand, and he just couldn’t. After things started to get a bit heated, I asked him who his childhood hero was. He gave me two. McGyver and Michael Knight. Seriously. I’m not kidding. These two people were actually his heroes. Soon after I got over my hysterical laughter, the conversation ended. Obviously, when your heroes are possibly the two lamest guys on the planet, they can do no wrong, as they can’t possibly be any more wrong. Therefore, I can see how it would be hard for him to understand how my hero was no longer cool, as he was totally unfamiliar with the concept of a cool hero.

I never did finish my archaeology studies. Which is probably a good thing, as I think I’d have to resign and hang up my whip. The fear of ending up like Indy would force me out of the profession.

I think movie producers need to better understand the impact their film making can have. They need to appreciate just how important a character can become. They need to understand that we do sometimes form personal attachments to the characters we see on screen, we bond and we become friends. They have a responsibility to bear this in mind when they mess around with our friends and heroes. To some of us, they aren't merely characters on a script to be trotted out whenever a dollar needs to be made. These aren't just characters. To some of us they are part of who we are, part of what defines us, moves us and inspires us.

So, after tonight, my childhood will never be the same. My hero is no longer a hero. My childhood has retrospectively lost something that it can’t get back. I’ll get over it in time. Sadly, though, when I look back at my childhood in future it just won’t quite be the same.

Goodbye Indy. You inspired me, and filled me imagination and possibility. I'll miss you. My hero, my idol...and my friend. I miss the times we had together all those years ago. But most of all, I hate what they did to you. You deserved better.