Last December, I talked about Final Destination being a rarity among film franchises for ending on a high note. Now it’s time to talk about its antithesis.

Fall from Fortune and Glory

Indiana Jones left an indelible mark on the world when he made his debut in 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark. Working with a number of brilliant screenwriters, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg managed to create two equally excellent sequels over the next eight years, making Indiana Jones one of the most successful film trilogies of all time, rivaling the original Star Wars trilogy and the Back to the Future trilogy in terms of sustained quality.

The end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade promised that there would be no further adventures for the whip-wielding archaeologist. He and his companions literally rode off into the sunset, and there they should have stayed. Despite that, we got The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles and the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, both of which were harmless enough fun, never taking away from the mystique and novelty of the three films.

Unfortunately, it was too tempting to leave well enough alone. So Lucas and Spielberg teamed up one more time, well past their prime, to make another Indiana Jones film in 2008. I never saw it, and I don’t intend to ever watch it. I believe I’ve explained it before, but my brothers all told me to avoid it like the plague, and I followed their advice.

Not Interested in More

I was recently offered a chance to watch Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny for free as a team-building activity by my employer. And I politely declined the offer. I have no interest in watching it, even if someone else is paying for the ticket. The same is true of every Marvel movie since Spider-Man: No Way Home and just about every other film franchise I can think of.

I especially don’t want to see Indiana Jones be embarrassed and stained by another substandard outing that demonstrates his owners’ inability to let him ride nobly off into the sunset. It pains me to see so many beloved intellectual properties get resurrected long after they should have been retired. It’s always better to leave audiences wanting more instead of dreading more.

Victims of Their Own Success

That’s all I feel when I think of continuing adventures of Indiana Jones, Ghostbusters, James Bond, superheroes, and other creations I grew up with. They are all victims of their own success. They started with a spark of inspiration, and some of them managed to sustain that success through multiple films and even decades. But their time is over.

Each one should be allowed to die and be remembered fondly rather than being forced to live on and be looked upon with pity. Nostalgia has its time and place. I yearn for a return to solid stories and old-fashioned filmmaking.

Ironically, there is no final destination for film franchises. They will go on forever as long as there is money to be made from them. That’s the case with any commodity, I suppose. But I wish that serial storytelling could be in a higher category than breakfast cereal.

This is the Deja Reviewer bidding you farewell until we meet again.

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