The Definitives
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Director: Steven Spielberg
Cast: Harrison Ford, Karen Allen, Paul Freeman, and John Rhys-Davies
Rated: PG
Runtime: 115 min.
by Brian Eggert
Entered into
The Definitives:
05/07/2008
Original Release Date:
06/12/1981
Every frame of Steven Spielberg’s spectacular adventure Raiders of the Lost Ark exudes an enduring iconography, not only because from scene to scene the film bursts with nonstop energy, but the production displays a simplified classicism harbored in ports of nostalgia. Whether this reminiscence derives from the film’s historical imagery, kinship to Saturday matinee serials, or recycled ideas worn by uncountable imitators since its release in 1981, a timeless bond melds the audience and film, headlined by archetypal hero Indiana Jones.
Scenes and effects sequences are immediately recognizable. Never deriving from a direct source, they emulate cliffhanger-laden serials from the 1930s-1950s—those featuring heroes like Flash Gordon, Dick Tracy, The Phantom, The Perils of Pauline, and Tarzan, among others. Each Saturday a serial series would return to theaters, running through its succession chapter after chapter, week after week, always seemingly ending with the penultimate finale. A serial adventurer confronts insurmountable dangers bringing him inches from death, leaving him to stop the Bad Guy, save The Girl, plant a smooch on her lips, and locate his treasure with golden light splashed onto his face from his find. The story is the same every time, embracing all-out excitement enough to keep audiences coming back and finish out the fifteen to twenty consecutive episodes.
Raiders of the Lost Ark does much the same, simply without a week between the serial’s deathly setup and learning the outcome. Instead, instant gratification supplies nonstop escapism. Set in 1936, the picture tails us behind Harrison Ford’s embodiment of the part-time college professor and full-time history-defending Indiana Jones. We watch him dodge poison tipped darts, survive snake-filled tombs, outsmart nefarious Nazis, and in the end, of course, save the day. But how draining it is to endure Indy barely surviving an onslaught of never-ending dangers! Those with breathing troubles should avoid viewings, as we constantly gasp and hold our breath with barely a moment allowed to catch up. Setup as a series of cliffhangers like so many serials, the plot moves from place to place, from Peru to Nepal to Egypt and so on, never allowing our attention spans to relax, keeping us perpetually thrilled.
George Lucas conceived the idea back in 1973, similar to his design for Star Wars, whereby the conceptual makeup of his film(s) would mirror that of serials from The Golden Age of Hollywood both in theory and in execution. He pitched The Adventures of Indiana Smith to Steven Spielberg in 1977 while the two were on holiday together in the Hawaiian Islands, both recovering after their productions of Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind were completed. Lucas envisioned a James Bond thread based in the serial mythos and set around a soldier of fortune archeologist; though, Lucas’ model would later be guided away from dark playboy hero into the duality of professor-adventurer. Retooling the name from Smith to Jones and perfecting character attributes with screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan (Return of the Jedi, The Big Chill), Lucas and Spielberg sat down and brainstormed what would later become key sequences in Raiders of the Lost Ark, and its 1984 prequel, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. From their talks, Kasdan constructed the screenplay and refined the jumble of ideas coming from his producer and director.
Indiana Jones requires a MacGuffin—the device around which the film’s events revolve, and yet its specificity remains wholly inconsequential—otherwise what is our adventure-seeker seeking? Early concept talks between Lucas and filmmaker Phillip Kaufman pinpointed the Ark of the Covenant, but this plot apparatus could have been anything: a Maltese Falcon, Sankara Stones, Captain Kidd's lost treasure, the Holy Grail, Cortés’ gold, or the unearthed tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi. A known Christian symbol, the Ark was built under God’s instruction (complete with mathematical assembly instructions) to contain the tablets with the Ten Commandments inscribed by Moses—lending Spielberg’s picture a religious MacGuffin inciting immediate identification and wonderment thereof. Kaufman receives story credit as a result of his contribution.
Scheduling and contract conflicts with Magnum P.I. barred Tom Selleck from accepting the Indiana Jones role, leaving it open for Harrison Ford. Lucas popularized Ford as Han Solo in his Kurosawa-inspired space epic, making the otherwise unknown actor a cowboy of the stars. And despite the popularity Ford’s Solo would receive between A New Hope and Return of the Jedi, Indiana Jones became the actor’s most popular role. Often noted for his dry humor, Ford’s naturalism is his greatest appeal. He carries out the bulk of his own stunts, so when Indiana Jones is dragged behind a Nazi truck we see Ford’s face and not some stuntman’s. He is perhaps the most easily identifiable physical presence in Hollywood, represented by his signature haphazard run. The actor’s wobbliness emphasizes Jones’ peak appeal: his vulnerability, his humanness. Indiana takes blow upon blow leaving him bruised and battered, and when the adventure is all over, he takes a nap...
Instantly legendary, Indiana Jones bears a reputation before his Ark adventure begins: as “an obtainer of rare antiquities.” The government agents asking him to acquire The Ark of the Covenant know his reputation, referencing Indy’s fantastical exploits as renowned. Who else but the famous Dr. Jones would they entrust with such a task? His first filmic story feels as though it should be his fifth, as he needs no origin tale to be understood; rather, his onscreen persona is so singular and immediately cogent that within the first fifteen minutes we have all requisite information: Always covered in dust from whatever cavern or tomb he exhumes, Indiana Jones is a pseudo-cowboy exploring the world’s historical frontiers, even riding the occasional horse and exemplifying cowboy iconography. He penetrates the vast unknowns of history looking for fact, though he often finds himself directly engrossed in a given culture’s mysticisms, the upshots of which make him spiritual, not religious, but certainly a romantic.
As a result, since Indiana Jones fights quintessentially villainesque Nazis, in opposition of them he stations himself as quintessentially good. Indeed, the passionately Jewish Spielberg takes aim against Nazis and represents them as utterly evil—an antithesis to the holy realm signified by the Ark. When the Nazis’ swastika is imprinted upon the wooden crate containing the relic, we hear burning radiation singe away their stamp. Historically used by Abrahamic, Buddhist, Christian, and Hindu religions, and others, the swastika dates back to the Neolithic Period, formerly signifying universality and good luck. Nevermind its origins or positive uses. The Nazis’ particular brand of malevolence and prominent use of the image wipes away all any application before or since their (relatively) brief rein of terror, mutating the symbol into the signature of evil, which Spielberg underlines to perfectly thematic ends. Consider the possibility of a less absolute villain, such as the morally ambiguous Frenchman Belloq (Paul Freeman). Without working for the Nazis, he would surely fail to provide the intended contrast, leaving Indiana Jones merely a soldier of fortune competing against another like himself, rather than a do-gooder of superhero proportions.
Beyond recalling religious and historical iconography, Spielberg delves into the history of film. Raiders of the Lost Ark is preceded by the Paramount Pictures mountain logo, an icon used in some form or another for the company’s nearly one-hundred years of making movies. An image familiar to moviegoers, the logo fades into a similar mountaintop landscape in the film’s Peruvian jungle scenes filmed on location in Hawaii (whose peaks were scouted for this very reason). Each Indiana Jones film begins similarly, from the embossed Shanghai gong in Temple of Doom to Utah’s Arches National Park scenes in The Last Crusade. The effect connects the viewer with a history of filmmaking as amusement, suggesting Spielberg seeks to appease imaginations, as opposed to creating something real to be ruminated over.
Spielberg invents his own brand of image writing with his film’s grand tangible special effects setups, yet-unmatched in their natural splendor and scope even with today's computer technology. Some filmmakers use advanced CGI to conceive their effects, including Spielberg in a number of his later science-fiction undertakings. Here Spielberg remains grounded by the film's tactile effects, in ode to their origins from Saturday matinee serials. There is nothing computer-generated about a giant rolling boulder chasing Indiana down a spider web-laden corridor, Indy going face-to-face with a cobra, Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen) hanging from a statue’s jaw in an evening dress, or Indy’s fisticuffs with a brutish Nazi ending in a propeller disaster. And yet, with such epic-sized physical imagery, subtler details like the interlude map trailing Indy’s course from country to country remain equally characteristic and illustrative of Spielberg’s throwback classicism.
All conceived by Lucas’ genius company Industrial Light & Magic, the naturalistic execution of the production design by Norman Reynolds feels familiar, playful, gritty, and genuine. The whole of the viewing experience seems like a young boy plopped down in the sand, playing hero with his toys… Only, with a budget backing his imagination. The boy’s action figures are actors, and his playsets are the stuff of Hollywood movie magic. Spielberg’s vision is rendered with a childlike intimacy, married with an adult vision, creating unsurpassed escapist cohesion.
Revolutionary and unsurpassed as Raiders of the Lost Ark was upon its release, its roots remain heavily linked to Golden Age cinema, keeping with the lasting classicism of the entire picture. The direction and presence of certain actors springs from early cinema action yarns, with Spielberg’s touch recalling the fluid camerawork and visual consideration of actioners by legend Michael Curtiz (The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Sea Wolf). Spielberg even occasionally throws some of his action up on the wall in silhouetted shadow—such as in Marion’s bar scenes or Indy inside the Ark’s tomb—a staple of Curtiz’s oeuvre. Meanwhile, Ford carries the undeniable charisma of Humphrey Bogart, and the brash physicality and humor of Errol Flynn, meeting somewhere in the middle with a charming impetuousness. Karen Allen as Indiana’s love interest is never reduced to merely a damsel in distress; she partakes in drinking contests and throws hard punches, but never forgets her femininity, recalling Barbara Stanwyck’s greatest roles. And lest we forget the nefarious Major Toht (Ronald Lacey), the spitting image of Peter Lorre; both laugh with a sinister, nasal hee-hee we love to hate.
The film’s legacy exists in the incandesce that emits from the entire production, glowing with the gilded repute of Golden Age cinema and the inescapably associated historical imagery therein. We remain in awe of the product, like Indiana Jones himself standing before his glimmering prize, the rays of some treasure illuminating his face. Our faces too are enlightened. Made with heart, sweat, and the noble initiative to simply entertain in the purest form by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, Raiders of the Lost Ark is a blueprint standard for every adventure film to follow.