Character Analysis
Truth, Justice, and the Ancient American Way
Indiana Jones has a one-track mind, and it's set on adventure 24/7. There are artifacts to be rescued, bad dudes to thwart, and whips to be cracked.
Oh, and there's a college course or two to teach, and some papers to grade…you know, whenever.
In case you forgot, Indiana's a college professor—and if you did forget, we don't blame you. Indiana's so obsessed with his "fieldwork" that it seems like even he forgets that he's Dr. Jones from time to time.
We get a glimpse of this when he makes a rare appearance on campus and his beleaguered secretary, Irene, tells him that he still hasn't graded that pile of papers. His students literally try to beat the door down just to get a moment with him during his office hours. Indiana responds like the responsible, dedicated, student-focused academic that he is: by climbing out the window and playing hooky.
Like we said, Indiana's got a one-track mind, and it's not on the classroom. It's on real-world cultural preservation. (Sorry, students. You too, Irene.) Check out these two exchanges, for example, both of which center on the Cross of Coronado. Indiana has the first when he's a teenage Boy Scout:
FEDORA: You got heart, kid, but that belongs to me.
YOUNG INDIANA: It belongs to Coronado.
FEDORA: Coronado's dead, and so are all of his grandchildren.
YOUNG INDIANA: This should be in a museum.
Indiana has the second conversation when he's the leather-jacketed adult we know so well:
PANAMA HAT: This is the second time I've had to reclaim my property from you.
INDIANA: That belongs in a museum.
PANAMA HAT: So do you.
As you can see, Indiana is willing to go to great lengths to make sure that what belongs in a museum stays in a museum—and out of the hands of greedy dudes in a variety of hats. And he's always has been that way. Check out how he sums up his personal mission statement for his students, for example:
INDIANA: Archaeology is the search for fact, not truth. If it's truth you're interested in, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall. So forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the world. We do not follow maps to buried treasure, and X never, ever marks the spot.
His name may be synonymous with adventure, but, ultimately, Indiana's guided by a commitment to truth and knowledge, not fame and money.
Man Without a Plan
Just because he's obsessed with adventure and reclaiming treasure for the masses doesn't mean that Indiana's focused or organized. After all, improvising adds to the adventure, right? Just ask Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie, or that dude in your speech class who has clearly never prepared a speech ahead of time. Winging it is a thrill.
Improv isn't always the best game plan, though, and as a result, Indiana routinely finds himself in sticky situations. When he and Elsa roll up to Castle Brunwald on a dark and stormy night to rescue Henry, for example, Elsa asks him what they're going to do. Indiana responds with what's essentially his motto:
INDIANA: I don't know. I'll think of something.
In a lion's den on a circus train? He'll think of something. Hog-tied to a chair in a burning room? He'll think of something. Being chased by biplanes, speedboats, or Nazi tanks? He'll think of something.
Human Resources
Here's the thing, though: Indiana Jones does always think of something. (For real: if he didn't, this movie wouldn't exist. Indy would have bit it, like, an hour into Raiders of the Lost Ark.) Whether he's recovering the Cross of Coronado or posing as a waiter and tossing Vogel out of a zeppelin, Indiana prefers to play it by ear—and he can get away with it because he's smart and resourceful.
Nowhere in the film is this more evident than when he passes the series of traps set in the temple that houses the Holy Grail. First, he remembers that in ancient Latin, "Jehovah" is spelled with an "I" and gets to keep his head. Literally. After he takes the leap of faith on the invisible bridge, he scatters sand across it so that he can find his way back. Most importantly, he correctly deduces that the cup of the carpenter wouldn't be all golden and gaudy: it would be simple and practical.
Where does Indiana's respect for the artifacts and the past come from? Could it have come from his upbringing?
It sure could have.
Like Father, Like Son
Indiana is also defined by his relationship with his dad, which is strained, to say the least. Indiana holds a lot of resentment toward Henry, who wasn't around much when Indiana was a kid—or ever, really. Check out this exchange where Indiana finally lets Henry have it. It's a little on the long side, but that's just because it reveals a lot:
INDIANA: Remember the last time we had a quiet drink? Huh?
Henry pages through his Grail diary.
INDIANA: I had a milkshake.
HENRY: (Looking through his diary:) Hmm. What did we talk about?
INDIANA: We didn't talk. We've never talked.
HENRY: (Looking through his diary:) Do I detect a rebuke?
INDIANA: A regret. It was just the two of us, Dad. It was a lonely way to grow up—for you, too. If you'd been an ordinary, average father like the other guys' dads, you'd have understood that.
HENRY: (Looking through his diary) Actually, I was a wonderful father.
INDIANA: When?
Henry finally looks up from his diary.
HENRY: Did I ever tell you to eat up, go to bed, wash your ears, do your homework? No, I respected your privacy, and I taught you self-reliance.
INDIANA: What you taught me was that I was less important to you than people who'd been dead for five hundred years in another country, and I learned it so well, that we've hardly spoken for 20 years.
HENRY: You left just when you were becoming interesting.
INDIANA: Unbelievable.
Hold up. Henry was, and is, a wildly intelligent man obsessed with antiquities, history, and people who've been dead for five hundred years? Hmm. Who does that sound like?
If you just screamed, "It sounds like Indiana, Shmoop! I mean, duh!" at your computer, points to you—and maybe go easy on the energy drinks.
Indiana and Henry may have a troubled past, but they're extremely similar people—even if it pains Indiana to admit it, or even consciously recognize it. They both have their obsessions, after all. Sure, for Henry, the obsession is more singular, as he's all about that Grail, all the time, while Indiana's, well, jonesing for more artifacts that you can shake a fake Ming vase at.
But the fact remains that they're both men in pursuit of specific passions that, at times, cause them to push the rest of their lives out of focus. For Indiana, that means ignoring things like his teaching career or finding a nice lady to settle down and maybe have a fedora-wearing baby or two with. For Henry, that means ignoring Indiana.
As a result, Indiana's devoted his life to getting his dad's attention and earning his respect. For starters, he joins the family business and becomes a professor, just like Henry. While Henry's bookish and sheltered, though, Indiana repeatedly risks his life to protect the past, and here's why: first, it's an attempt to snag Henry's attention; second, it's the primary way that Indiana tries to differentiate himself from his cautious, studious father; and third, it's a way for Indiana to do one better than dear ol' Dad.
Henry may be an important, reputable academic, but Indiana is a risk-taking adventurer who faces danger so often that it's become no big deal for him, as evidenced in this exchange that he has with Henry while the Nazis are shooting at them from a plane:
HENRY: Those people are trying to kill us!
INDIANA: I know, Dad!
HENRY: Well, it's a new experience for me.
INDIANA: Happens to me all the time.
Outrunning Nazi gunners? Yawn. That's all in a day's work for Henry Jones, Junior. Er, we mean Indiana.
Dear Diary
While risking his life may be no biggie for Indiana, getting his father's approval is a huge deal. Given his dad's love of all things Holy Grail, it's fitting that it's the Holy Grail itself that finally brings father and son together. After Henry's kidnapped by the Third Reich, he trusts Indiana enough to send him his beloved Grail diary for safe keeping. Indiana, in turn, doesn't waste a moment tracking down his dad and helping him escape—even if he still screws up that responsibility, in the way only a son can:
NAZI OFFICER: You have the diary in your pocket.
HENRY: You dolt! You think my son would be that stupid? That he would bring my diary all the way back here?
(Pause.)
HENRY: (To Indiana:) You didn't, did you?
(Pause.)
HENRY: You didn't bring it, did you?
INDIANA: Well, uh...
HENRY: You did!
INDIANA: Look, can we discuss this later?
HENRY: I should have mailed it to the Marx Brothers.
INDIANA: Will you take it easy?
HENRY: Take it easy? Why do you think I sent it home in the first place? So it wouldn't fall into their hands!
INDIANA: I came here to save you!
HENRY: Oh, yeah? And who's gonna come to save you, Junior?
INDIANA: I told you—
(Grabs a Nazi officer's gun and shoots all of the officers dead.)
INDIANA: Don't call me Junior!
HENRY: Look what you did! I can't believe what you did!
Indiana may not be the perfect son, but he's the perfect son for Henry. Their two-man battle against the Third Reich brings out the best in both father and son. It reveals how their strengths and weaknesses not only inform their characters but also complement the other's.
Don't get us wrong: we're not saying that Indiana should buy the Nazis some Starbucks coupons or a nice cookie cake for inadvertently helping him snag his dad's attention and repairing their relationship. We're just saying it's a fitting reconciliation for this father and son who have so much more in common than just ancient Greek skills. Or Elsa.
Indiana Jones' Timeline