Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

How or why this film made it past the gate we will never know. No wonder Spielberg stepped away as the project’s director, with James Mangold taking up the dubious mantle. Unconvincingly set in 1969, the story sees Indiana Jones seeking to locate the Antikythera; which is an ancient device created by Archimedes that can supposedly breach time. Upon this wafer-thin premise our hero teams up with his estranged goddaughter Hilary Shaw (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) to prevent one Jurgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen), a German turned NASA scientist, getting his Nazi paws on the device and thus rewriting history.
Throughout, Harrison Ford plays the title role with all the humourless charm of ageing bloodhound. Phoebe W-S as Shaw, is a fish out of water and her performances range from irritating to cringeworthy. The fact that her character is a grifter, liar and thief, willing to sell out to the highest bidder isn’t AT ALL endearing. Likewise, her pick-pocket, child sidekick, Teddy Kumar, played by Ethann Isidore, whose character is less loveable Artful Dodger and more dorkish delinquent.
Stalwart (and underused) performances  by Antonio Banderas as Renaldo, and John Rhys-Davies as Sallah cannot even save this franchise. When veteran, Karen Allen, as Jones’s love interest turns up, she looks about as uneasy as we felt – Can one be too grateful for the cut away to Indiana’s hat?
Mads Mikkelsen as the resident Nazi upstages everyone, and is the only character that is watchable, so much so that you kind of wanted him to win, not, I’m sure what the producers intended.
The action sequences are predictable and some of the CGI is actually risible; as is the premise that a Tuk-Tuk with a two-stroke engine can keep pace with that of a Mercedes. Ditto, in that the film-makers want you to believe that the boy, Teddy, can miraculously pilot a plane based on his  earlier childish role-play. Suspension of belief is pushed to borderline stupidity, when ships from the past, aka 212 BC,  are able to aim (anchors? spears?) at a WWII Battle of Britain-style bomber and bring it down. (However did they win the war?)
John William’s worthy soundtrack valiantly tries to lift the film’s creeping predictability, which, after about half-an-hour in, had me eyeing the exit sign with desperate longing.
The less said about this 295-million-dollar howler, the better.
Rating: One dial short of watch-able