"National Treasure, I watched Indiana Jones, I knew Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones was a friend of mine. National Treasure, you are no Indiana Jones."
As a rule, I try to stay as far away from Jerry Bruckheimer movies as possible. I've learned that he and I don't exactly see eye to eye on things. A few notable exceptions are Black Hawk Down and the first Pirates of the Caribbean.
So when National Treasure came out, I couldn't have been less interested. As my DVD library is currently boxed up and waiting for the movers to deliver it to my NYC doorstep, I've been bumming films off my fellow NYU students.
The other day I found myself with a copy of National Treasure in my hands.
"Wait a sec..."
"Take it. It's fun. I promise. You'll like it."
I liked it alright, I guess. For about 90 minutes. And that's what Bruckheimer's films do--entertain for approximetly two hours and then fade utterly from the memory. Cinematic Chinese food. They have no gravity. No staying power. Nothing at all that would make me want to come back to them time after time, convinced there is more to mine there.
So I have to laugh when I read Paul Fischer of "Dark Horizons" quoted on the back of the DVD saying, "National Treasure is the Indiana Jones of the New Millennium."
The Indiana Jones films thrill me whenever I sit down to view them. They are possessed of the sort of iconic imagery and power, larger-than-life characters, and spectacular situations which keep me coming back; keeps them in my mind's eye long after I turn off the TV; keeps them classics decades after they debuted. National Treasure is at best a footnote, a cinematic speed-bump.
Why am I getting so worked up over this?
If you'll excuse me, I have to go speak to a fellow NYU film student about his taste in movies.