INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY is the final Indiana Jones picture, the only one not directed by Steven Spielberg (ALWAYS), and the only one not conceived by George Lucas (AMERICAN GRAFFITI). Personally I did not ask for such a thing. Even if the boys were still in charge (they chose to just be producers, with only Spielberg being hands-on) I’m one of the weirdos who enjoys visiting the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, so I had no need for another one to set things right. But Harrison Ford (EXPENDABLES 3) wanted one more for closure, and I’m glad he did. I think it’s a good movie, and a good ending.
The director is James Mangold (COP LAND, WALK THE LINE, 3:10 TO YUMA), who is also credited as writer alongside Jez Butterworth & John-Henry Butterworth (EDGE OF TOMORROW, GET ON UP) and David Koepp (I COME IN PEACE). Koepp wrote multiple drafts when Spielberg was gonna direct and the other guys drastically rewrote it for Mangold’s version. Mangold is, I can exclusively reveal, not Steven Spielberg; he’s a totally separate person. So by definition the many fine and spectacular action set pieces throughout this movie are not Steven Spielberg fine and spectacular. But I’d say Mangold is a stronger Spielberg substitute (or Sammy Fabelman, if you will) than any of the JURASSIC PARK or JAWS sequelizers, let alone the makers of any Indy-inspired adventure movies such as THE MUMMY. (read the rest of this shit…)
STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER is the kind of thing that happens when a singular voice creates a revolutionary trilogy that changes movies forever and becomes a cultural phenomenon beloved by generations and then years later makes a trilogy of prequels to said movies that are also a cultural phenomenon and also change movies forever in a different way but are disdained by many and after a while he gets so sick of fuckin hearing about it that he sells off his entire life’s work for nearly five billion dollars and gives most of it to charity while a giant entertainment conglomerate treats his creation as an all-consuming brand centered around a third trilogy that ends the saga but is made by three different directors with no plan for where the fuck it’s going and the first guy does a good workmanlike job, then the second knocks it out of the park with a soulful and distinct followup that severely pisses off a small faction of people we only know about because of the internet and then the third guy gets fired so the first guy has to come back and figure out how the fuck to conclude a story he designed for some other poor sucker to have to deal with and also find an ending to the larger cultural phenomenon he’s been mimicking and for some reason he feels the need to alienate the people who like the movies by pandering to the people who didn’t.
SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE (not to be confused with 
This movie has a reputation as kind of a mess. Admittedly it is a 2 1/2 hour broad comedy about paranoia right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. In my opinion a 2 1/2 hour broad comedy about paranoia right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor was not necessarily one of the top two or three things the world hoped for as Steven Spielberg’s followup to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND. But fuck ’em. It’s what they got and they oughta fuckin appreciate it. 
