INDIANA JONES
YOU OVERWHELMINGLY VOTED IN INDY, THE WHIP-CRACKING WONDER, AS YOUR NUMBER ONE. IN TRIBUTE, WE UNPACK THE ELEMENTS THAT MAKE UP CINEMA’S GREATEST HERO
“Nothing shocks me, I’m a scientist!” So claimed everyone’s favourite academic in Temple Of Doom. Well, he might be surprised this time.
THE CHARISMA
There are a lot of broad ideas of what a screen hero looks like: maybe a fighter pilot, or a good cop, or a man in spandex. But the most memorable of screen heroes are beloved because they have fresh shadings within the confines of the old stereotypes. Inspired by 1930s adventure serials that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas grew up watching, Indy hacks through jungles, fights Nazis and rides motorbikes — but with his robust physicality, easy-going sense of humour and enigmatic chin scar, Harrison Ford defies bland heroism.
Naturally, Ford looks the part to play a hero: square-jawed and slightly stubbly, with twinkling green eyes and a roguish grin. He’s a thoroughly believable womaniser, but not quite the too-smooth proto-james Bond or a collected, gentlemanly Errol Flynn swashbuckler. Ford subtly undermines his own charm. In Raiders Of The Lost Ark, Indy asks Marion to kiss him in all the places he isn’t injured, but after their lips lock he drifts straight off into an exhausted slumber. In Temple Of Doom, he tries to tempt Willie into his room with a show of manly indifference — only to wind up fighting off an
THE DERRING-DO
Dr Jones’ perilous brand of heroism has buffeted him from pitfall to cliff edge, from careening mine cart to wheeling biplane, from spike room to snake chamber. For an archaeology professor he is surprisingly athletic, as handy with a bull whip as he is with his field tools, and, when the need arises, unafraid to bruise his knuckles or blister his trigger finger.
Indy’s main spiritual ancestors were Allan Quatermain and James Bond (not forgetting a sprinkle of Scrooge Mcduck tossed into the mix for good measure), and while he’s not quite so smoothly proficient as those guys, he’s no less daredevilish. He’ll throw himself into deadly situations with scant consideration of the outcome — or the possible physical harm it will inflict. As he says in Raiders, “I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go.” Which is why he’ll exit a fuel-haemorrhaging plane in an inflatable
THE FANFARE
As per Raiders’ tag-line, “The Ultimate Hero In The Ultimate Adventure” needed the ultimate choon. As the story goes, composer John Williams played Spielberg two options for the Indiana Jones theme on the piano, and the filmmaker’s simple direction was, “Why don’t you use them both?” The two melodies became the theme and the bridge of Indy’s musical calling card, embodying the character’s qualities to a tee: simple, determined and direct.
Unlike most movie character motifs, which build to a triumphant statement of the signature hero tune, Indy’s theme emerges fully formed as he swings into a South American river, as if he is his own man from the get-go. The march proves to be incredibly malleable, reappearing with the lightest touch outside Indy’s house, in epic sweep mode during the flight to Nepal, and in a triumphant version as Jones climbs aboard the sub cheered on by pirates (in Temple Of Doom, a warmer rendition reflects a hero concerned with saving children). The bridge, in a comical extended form, underscores his discovery of the snake on a plane but delivers rollicking momentum during the truck chase. The result is a throwback to a bygone era of movie adventure music that delivers a thousandfold in the present. IAN FREER