Disney's Challengers, part X: A thriving animation studio, somewhere in the world

AN AMERICAN TAIL: FIEVEL GOES WEST

1991

Directed by Simon Wells and Phil Nibbelink

Written by David Kirchner, Charles Swenson, and Flint Dille

Spoilers: moderate

Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should

WE'RE BACK! A DINOSAUR'S STORY

1993

Directed by Phil Nibbelink, Ralph Zondag, Dick Zondag, and Simon Wells

Written by John Patrick Shanley, Flint Dille, and Sherri Stoner (based on the picture book by Hudson Talbott)

Spoilers: moderate

Steven Spielberg, part XXXIX: Hey, I know a song, it's called "While You Were Singing, I Got Stabbed In the Head By a Puerto Rican"

WEST SIDE STORY

2021

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Tony Kushner (based on the play by Jerome Robbins, Arthur Laurents, Leonard Bernstein, and Stephen Sondheim)

Spoilers: severe

Walt Disney, part XXXV: I hope you're proud of yourself—and those pictures you took

WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT

1988

Directed by Robert Zemeckis

Written by Jeffrey Price and Peter S. Seaman ("based on" the novel Who Censored Roger Rabbit? by Gary K. Wolf, but at least the book properly punctuates its title)

Spoiler alert: forget it, reader, it's Chinatown

Disney's Challengers, part VII: Your mother can't be with you anymore

THE LAND BEFORE TIME

1988

Directed by Don Bluth

Written by Judy Freudberg, Tony Geiss, and Stu Krieger

Spoiler alert: high, but 'cmon

Disney's Challengers, part VI: And the streets are paved with cheese

AN AMERICAN TAIL

1986

Directed by Don Bluth

Written by David Kirschner, Judy Freudberg, and Tony Geiss

Spoiler alert: moderate

Steven Spielberg, part XXXVIII: Pop has finished eating itself, and now it's after you

READY PLAYER ONE

The dumbassed pop culture stew and incredible visuals make it a great time at the movies, but the tension between what it says it is and what it actually is makes it more interesting than it ever had any right to be.

2018

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Zak Penn and Ernest Cline (based on the novel by Ernest Cline)

With Tye Sheridan (Wade "Parzival" Watts), Olvia Cooke (Samantha "Art3mis" Cook), Win Morisaki (Toshiro "Daito" Yoshiaki), Philip Zhao (Akihide "Shoto" Karatsu), Mark Rylance (James "Anorak" Halliday), T.J. Miller ("I-R0k"), Ben Mendelsohn (Nolan "Nolan Sorrento" Sorrento), and another actor whose name and face is in the marketing materials, but whose identity I won't spoil because it probably would've been a mild but nice surprise if I had not already known it ("Aech")

Spoiler alert: moderate

Steven Spielberg, part XXXVII: All the controlling shareholder's men

THE POST

Gasp!  Will the Washington Post publish the Pentagon Papers in the face of hostile governmental action?  I can't wait to find out!  (So, perhaps you can see that it's at least somewhat despite itself that The Post winds up being the best true story Spielberg's put to film in over a decade.)

2017

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Liz Hannah and Josh Singer

With Tom Hanks (Ben Bradlee), Meryl Streep (Kay Graham), and others, many, many, many others, sheesh

Spoiler alert: they saved democracy?

Joe Dante, part XII: Real American heroes

SMALL SOLDIERS

Kids love social commentary, right?  Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we can't, while still appreciating Small Soldiers' finer points, like its comedy, its violence, its comedic violence, and (especially) its swerves into bona fide, no-kidding horror.

1998

Directed by Joe Dante

Written by Gavin Scott, Adam Rifkin, Ted Elliott, Terry Rossio, and Anne Spielberg

With Gregory Smith (Alan Abernathy), Kirsten Dunst (Christy Fimple), Phil Hartman (Phil Fimple), Wendy Schaal (Marion Fimple), Dick Miller (Joe), David Cross (Irwin Wayfair), Jay Mohr (Larry Benson), Robert Picardo (Ralph Quist), Dennis Leary (Gil Mars), Frank Langella (Archer), and Tommy Lee Jones (Chip Hazard)

Spoiler alert: moderate

Joe Dante, part X: Fun—but in no sense civilized

GREMLINS 2: THE NEW BATCH

Everything that the first one, burdened with establishing the basic premise, simply couldn't be.

1990

Directed by Joe Dante

Written by Charles S. Haas 

With Zach Galligan (Billy Peltzer), Phoebe Cates (Kate Beringer), John Glover (Daniel Clamp), Havilland Morris (Marla Bloodstone), Dick Miller (Murray Futterman), Robert Picardo (Chief Forster), Robert Prosky (Grandpa Fred), Gedde Watanabe (Mr. Katsuji), Christopher Lee (Dr. Catheter), Neil Ross (The Voice of Clamp Enterprises), Hulk Hogan (himself), Howie Mandell (Gizmo), Frank Welker (Mohawk), and Tony Randall (The Brain Gremlin)

Spoiler alert: moderate

Joe Dante, part VII: Adequate voyage

INNERSPACE

The less you expect out of this 80s-style extrapolation of a classic sci-fi trope, the more you're likely to enjoy it.

1987

Directed by Joe Dante

Written by Jeffrey Boam and Chip Proser

With Dennis Quaid (Lt. Tuck Pendleton), Martin Short (Jack Putter), Meg Ryan (Lydia Maxwell), Henry Gibson (Mr. Wormwood), Wendy Shaal (Wendy), John Hora (Ozzie Wexler), Vernon Wells (Mr. Igoe), Fiona Lewis (Dr. Margaret Canker), Kevin McCarthy (Victor Scrimshaw), and Robert Picardo (The Cowboy)

Spoiler alert: moderate

Joe Dante, part V: After all, the only thing that any 21 year old man, who already owns one dog and lives in his family's attic, could ever want for Christmas is a surprise high-maintenance pet

GREMLINS

It's a rollicking good time, that much is for certain.  But indefeasible greatness wasn't in the cards for Dante this time around, even if you'd never know it from Gremlins' enduring reputation, its endless imitators, or its enormous box office success.  No, I suppose I'm definitely in the minority camp on this one.  And that's just for liking it—rather than loving the living shit out of it, as any boy born in the 1980s is required by federal law to do.

1984

Directed by Joe Dante

Written by Chris Columbus

With Zach Galligan (Billy Peltzer), Phoebe Cates (Kate Beringer), Hoyt Axton (Rand Peltzer), Frances Lee McCain (Lynn Peltzer), Corey Feldman (Pete Fountaine), Dick Miller (Murray Fetterman), Howie Mandell (Gizmo), and Frank Welker (Stripe)

Spoiler alert: high

Steven Spielberg, part infinity: Steven Spielberg

I. Duel (1971) II. Something Evil  (1972) III. Savage (1973) IV. The Sugarland Express (1974) V. Jaws (1975) VI. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) VII. 1941 (1979) VIII. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) IX. Poltergeist** (1982) X. E.T.: The Extraterrestrial (1982) XI. Twilight Zone: The Movie* (1983) XII. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) XIII. The Goonies*** (1985) XIV. The Color Purple (1985) XV. Empire of the Sun (1987) XVI. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) XVII. Always (1989) XVIII. Arachnophobia*** (1990) XIX. Hook (1991) XX. Jurassic Park (1993) XXI. Schindler's List (1993) XXII. The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997) XXIII. Amistad (1997) XXIV. Saving Private Ryan (1998) A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (2001) XXVI. Minority Report (2002) XXVII. Catch Me If You Can (2002) XXVIII. The Terminal (2004) XXIX. War of the Worlds (2005) XXX. Munich (2005) XXXI. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crytstal Skull (2008) XXXII. The Adventures of Tintin (2011) XXXIII. War Horse (2011) XXXIV. Lincoln (2012) XXXV. Bridge of Spies (2015) XXXVI. The BFG (2016) XXXVII. The Post (2017) XXXVIII. Ready Player One (2018)

What more could I say, that I haven't said already?  Steven Spielberg is, as far as I'm concerned, a living god—hell, at least a living demigod.  He started off with perfection (and on TV, no less!) with Duel, and only got better from there.  Forty-five years later, the man can boast of the best body of work of anyone who ever touched a camera, with fully eight straight-up masterpieces, virtually flawless in their construction, standing atop more than a dozen other merely great films.  He's the kind of director that when he releases something that's only good, you're disappointed.  Yeah, he's amazing.  And handsome.  The end.

...Okay, I suppose I could try to unify this retrospective into one easily-digestible essay.  Over the past several months, we've surveyed the evolution of a master: from the peerless purveyor of popular entertainment, who invented the blockbuster with Jaws and co-invented the timeless super-franchise with Indiana Jones, to the serious man who sought to chronicle history, beginning with The Color Purple and Empire of the Sun, and finally arriving in full force with the once-in-a-generation event that was Schindler's List, which maintains its status to this day as the only Holocaust movie that anybody has ever actually wanted to watch.

Spielberg the Entertainer came from an innocent and unfettered place, where instinct combined with rarefied technical skills, and he turned dreams into celluloid with nothing lost in the translation.  It is my contention, and I think you might agree, that the less thoughtful and less mature Spielberg was, the better he was; before he was struck with self-knowledge, his films were purer in their raw spectacle and even rawer emotionalism.  He latched like a lamprey upon his two favorite themes, supernatural wonderment and the breakdown of families, especially the breakdown of relationships between fathers and sons, and virtually every movie he ever made was just one more attempt to solve his own personal issues within a seemingly endless series of mind-blowing fantasies.  The wave crested with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, which is still the most perfect distillation of Spielberg's father issues ever made—indeed, maybe the most perfect vehicle for filial emotion ever devised, so that despite the fact that Last Crusade is one of Spielberg's stupidest, most senseless narratives, it is also his most tear-jerking, which, for my purposes, is an easy enough synonym for "profound."  (On that note, could any director have been luckier than Spielberg, when he found his single most important collaborator, composer John Williams, whose ability to dominate human emotions with sound has been equaled only by Spielberg's ability to do it with sight?  I mean, not so much lately, but you know, back in the day, when he was coining iconic themes left and right, like normal folks change their socks.)

But then, something happened: Spielberg realized what he was doing, and self-consciousness seeped into his work.  More often, he toned himself down; or, when he did intend to manipulate your feelings, you could now tell that he was doing it completely and 100% on purpose.  The last time, I think, that Spielberg hit our screens, without a filter, must have been the ending of Schindler's List.  And, yes, Schindler's melodramatic breakdown is what turned a great movie into a perfect one; and don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

Maudlin sentimentality still marks his work.  Only now, it tends to be cut with a whole lot of grown-up cynicism.  A.I. is rightly considered the turning point, and that one is a bleak and unforgiving movie—indeed, its ending is made moderately dysfunctional by Spielberg's apparent unwillingness to own up to just how bleak and unforgiving his story was.  Later, he'd arrive with weepies like The Terminal and War Horse, and they would work—Spielberg's too good for them not to work—but you could see his hand, right there, earnestly trying to poke you right in the fucking eye.

Sometimes, the added thoughtfulness backfired; he's never been a thoughtful filmmaker by nature, and overthinking things (alongside a compulsion to put some kind of emotional satisfaction into everything he made) perhaps led to that idiosyncratic condition, known as the "Spielberg Ending," where things either fall apart as a logical construct, or just keep freaking going, despite the fact that a conclusion was reached forty minutes ago.  For examples of the former, see The Lost World: Jurassic Park, A.I., The Terminal, War of the Worlds, and, according to most commentators, though not yours truly, Saving Private Ryan.  For the latter, see Catch Me If You Can, Lincoln, and even, to some degree, the otherwise bodacious Adventures of Tintin.  (And The BFG is a special case: the ending certainly makes sense, but you'd almost prefer it if it were just plain broken, if only it were also satisfying.)  It all began, however, with The Color Purple—notably the first "Serious Spielberg" film there was, and which marches on long past the point where it needed to have stopped.

But note well that this isn't to dismiss the even more numerous Spielberg movies that end like glittering flawless diamonds: Duel; The Sugarland Express; Jaws; every Indy movie, even the one no one likes, but especially the first three; Close Encounters; E.T.; Empire of the Sun; the aforementioned List; Amistad; SPR; War Horse; Munich.  (In fact, if you want to get technical, Munich has a Spielberg Ending that goes on for like a whole damned hour, and has a potentially-filmbreaking attempt to shoehorn in the director's usual melodramatic fixations, albeit in a very unusual way—sex!—but Munich actually uses its longeurs to say something for once, rather than just indifferently wind down a narrative that the director didn't know how to finish.  And that's one reason why Munich is so damned great.)  Oh, but lest we forget: if you wanted, you could add 1941 to both lists of terrible Spielberg endings; hell, you might even have to.  If you asked me, however, that movie collapses in upon itself like a black hole due to the Zemeckian factor, not the Spielbergian one.

(And that's a good a segue as any for a minor point: over the years, Spielberg also produced 150 or so motion pictures, via both Amblin Entertainment and DreamWorks SKG.  Hey, you don't become a triple billionaire by just directing things, you know.  We have taken a look at some of his most important productions—or, at least, his best—notably in our Robert Zemeckis retrospective, for it was Spielberg who united the Back to the Future Trilogy with money, and the rest is history.  We likewise took a glance at a few of his other productions during this retrospective, taking aim at Poltergeist, The Goonies, and Arachnophobia.  Should we have reviewed An American Tail, too?  Almost certainly!  But, honestly, An American Tail kind of sucks, and I really, really didn't want to watch it twice in a single calendar year.  So please accept DreamWorks' attempt to step on Disney's feet, The Prince of Egypt, as a consolation prize; since at least that piece of Greater Spielberg is actually awesome.)

Anyway: Spielberg's growing cynicism, fueled by the new political climate after September 11th, hit its peak with Munich—his last masterpiece for a long while, and by far his most adult motion picture of all.  But even as the old, child-sized tools went unused, new frontiers beckoned to Spielberg, and at least since 1993, an experimental bent, and a renewed love for formalism, has increasingly defined a director who was once (and to a huge degree remains) a committed populist: and so we have, in order, List, a black-and-white movie with radically different shooting styles, depending upon which character is in focus; Jurassic Park, one of the first examples of a CGI-driven cinema of attractions; Saving Private Ryan, a war-is-hell exercise that does its level best to make you puke on your living room floor; Minority Report, a bleach-bypass antiseptic dystopia; Munich, a paranoid thriller that could have been made right alongside the terrible events it depicts; Tintin, proof that Spielberg could make one hell of a bitchin' cartoon, and also that mo-cap animation could work (take that, Zemeckis!); and War Horse, which is so classicist in its influences that, in the context of 2011, it honestly feels experimental.

That leaves us with his Late Period work, where the new thoughtfulness of the Serious Filmmaker has threatened to overwhelm the instinctive Entertainer; indeed, it's only here that the Two Spielbergs actually seem to diverge, since even Spielberg's very dourest films (List, Amistad, SPR) were all still intended to be compelling.  But, in 2012 and 2015, Spielberg set himself to the creation of a pair of edifying historical bores, Lincoln and especially Bridge of Spies, adequate films that still have the power to moderately entertain—but could thrill no one.  Meanwhile, The BFG simply feels fatigued; though at least it's fun (not to mention actually attractive, for the first time in a while in a Spielberg joint).

Does that mean what you think it does?  Of course: we couldn't close a Spielberg retrospective without once again mentioning the muse who led him into the second half of his career, good old Janusz Kaminski, Spielberg's cinematographer on virtually everything he's done since Schindler (the only exception was the cartoon).  So: Christ, Janusz Kaminski, what is your deal?  You can be amazing one movie, and wretched the next.  Schindler remains the DP's greatest achievement, and that's certainly not nothing; indeed, any man who could shoot such disparate films as A.I., Minority Report, The Terminal, and Munich can only be called "genius."  But as Spielberg visibly disengaged from aesthetics in 2012, in his zeal to deliver history without special adornment, at least beyond the essential "movieness" of all of Spielberg's films, what he and Kaminski actually did was simply default to their basic aesthetic—and their basic aesthetic is obnoxious and awful.  (See also, Catch Me If You Can, a near-waste of its time period.)  The BFG, whatever its flaws, at least represents a recognition that if you have a cinematographer like Kaminski, he must be given concrete tasks.  Do that, and he is amazing; do nothing, and what you get is merely a shaft of light, stamping on a human face forever.

So let us celebrate the man, despite his late-career slip!  (I guess that's why he's only a demigod, right?)  If we're lucky, he'll be with us for years to come, and his next films are already announced: The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara (another chronicle, which at least promises to be less narratively and emotionally dry than Bridge of Spies) and Ready Player One (which I assume will be kind of like Pixels, except not psychotically terrible).  (ETA: And that is not exactly what Ready Player One was--it's more like A.I.: But Fun--but I guess Pixels Except Not Psychotically Terrible does capture a lot of it.  Meanwhile, there's The Post, which just kind of snuck up on us, but proved that Spielberg's ability to chronicle history has not permanently atrophied.)

In the spirit of celebration, then, you will find below a ranked list of all of Spielberg's movies, from Duel to The BFG The Post Ready Player One and damned near everything in between (regrettably, Spielberg's third TV movie, Savage, is not available in any form I'm aware of; it is the sole omission).  What I want to direct your attention to is not just how many are great, but also how few of them are actually bad.  How many filmmakers can say that, in forty-seven years and thirty-one theatrically-released films, they only made three crappy ones, plus one lousy TV movie?  The answer, of course, is "nobody."

33. SOMETHING EVIL  (3/10)

32. THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK  (4/10)

31. ALWAYS (5/10)

30. 1941 (5.01/10)

29. BRIDGE OF SPIES  (6/10)

28. CATCH ME IF YOU CAN  (6/10)

27. HOOK  (6/10)
26. THE SUGARLAND EXPRESS  (6/10)

25. LINCOLN  (6/10)

24. THE COLOR PURPLE  (7/10)
23. THE BFG (7/10)

22. WAR OF THE WORLDS  (7/10)

21. INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL  (7/10)

20. WAR HORSE  (8/10)
19. THE POST (8/10)
18. CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND  (8/10)
17a. TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE*  (8/10)

17. EMPIRE OF THE SUN (9/10)

16. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN  (9/10)

15. E.T.: THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL  (9/10)

14. THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN (9/10)

13. AMISTAD  (9/10)

12. THE TERMINAL  (9/10)
11. A.I.: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE  (9/10)

10. JURASSIC PARK  (9/10)

9b. POLTERGEIST**  (9/10)

9a. THE GOONIES***  (9/10)

9. MINORITY REPORT (9/10)
8a. ARACHNOPHOBIA*** (10/10)

8. MUNICH  (10/10)
7. DUEL  (10/10)
6.  SCHINDLER'S LIST  (10/10)
5. READY PLAYER ONE (10/10)

4.  JAWS  (10/10)

3.  RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK  (10/10)
2.  INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE  (10/10)

1.  INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM  (10/10)

Films marked with one asterisk (*) indicate anthology films which Spielberg directed one segment of, but since the specific anthology film I'm referring to is Twilight Zone: The Movie, and Spielberg's segment kinda blows, I don't feel comfortable treating it like a Spielberg flick.  Maybe if this were a Joe Dante or George Miller retrospective, I'd be willing to attribute the ownership—but not so much here.

Films marked with two asterisks (**) indicate films "directed" by Tobe Hooper, but actually directed by Steven Spielberg.  Maybe.

Films marked with three asterisks (***) indicate films which Spielberg produced, and had a real hand in, but did not direct.

Steven Spielberg, part XXXVI: Clearly, snozzcumbers do not offer adequate nutrition for the growing giant

THE BFG

Spielberg comes back to the kid's adventure, and the severity of the disappointment quite naturally overshadows the modesty of the achievement.

2016
Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Melissa Mathison (based on the novel by Roald Dahl)

With Ruby Barnhill (Sophie), Mark Rylance (The BFG), Penelope Wilton (Queen Elizabeth II Windsor), and Jermaine Clement (Fleshlumpeater)

Spoiler alert: moderate

Steven Spielberg, part XXXV: Everyone will hate me, but at least I'll lose

BRIDGE OF SPIES

The story itself is just a little dull, so instead of talking about that, roughly half of this review is dedicated to the great/terrible cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, Kaminski's undiagnosed compulsive disorder, and Spielberg's morally-unsound enabling behavior toward his poor DP.

2015

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Matt Charman, Ethan Coen, and Joel Coen

With Tom Hanks (James Donovan), Amy Ryan (Mary Donovan), Alan Alda (Thomas Watters, Jr.), Austin Stowell (Francis Gary Powers), Will Rogers (Frederic Pryor), and Mark Rylance (Rudolf Abel)

Spoiler alert: N/A

Note: this is a re-edited and slightly expanded version of a review written in February 2016, the major difference being that I've mildly softened in my visceral reaction to Kaminski's body of work—it helps that I've seen practically all of it condensed into a couple of months; but, never fear, my disgust has certainly not softened when it comes to his work in this film

Steven Spielberg, part XXXIV: For example, to prepare for the role of Abraham Lincoln, Day-Lewis was actually elected President of the United States

LINCOLN

As a history lesson, Lincoln is a worthwhile sit, even though it's a long one.  As a cinematic object, however, Lincoln is a decidedly flat experience.  It is elevated by its rarefied acting and interesting character work, but not to the point that you'll find me wholeheartedly recommending it; but then, movies about the political process are just about my least favorite thing in the world—so, please, consider that a disclosure of my bias.

2012

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Tony Kushner (based on the book Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin)

With Daniel Day-Lewis (Pres. Abraham Lincoln), Tommy Lee Jones (Rep. Thaddeus Stevens), David Strathairn (Sec. State William Seward), Sally Field (Mary Todd Lincoln), Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Robert Lincoln), Gulliver McGrath (Tad Lincoln), James Spader (W.N. Bilbo), Lee Pace (Rep. Fernando Wood), and much, much more

Spoiler alert: he went to go see a nice play

Steven Spielberg, part XXXIII: Fantastic beasts and where to find them

WAR HORSE

Spielberg once again goes to war, and this time he brings a horse named Joey, whom you do slowly grow to love (even if you aren't very likely to love any of the hardly-glimpsed character sketches that surround him).

2011

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Lee Hall and Richard Curtis (based on the novel by Michael Morpurgo)

With Jeremy Irvine (Albert "Albie" Narracott), Emily Watson (Rose Narracott), Peter Mullan (Ted Narracott), Lyons (David Thewlis), Tom Hiddleston (Capt. James Nicholls), Benedict Cumberbatch (Maj. Jamie Stewart), and so on and so forth, there are an awful lot of people in the film, and also many horses

Spoiler alert: somewhere between moderate and high

Steven Spielberg, part XXXII: Blistering barnacles!

THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN

Spielberg teams up with Peter Jackson for a throwback adventure into the past, rendered with all the tools of the future, and the film they made together is truly something to behold.

2011

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, and Joe Cornish (based on the comics by Herge)

With Jamie Bell (Tintin), Andy Serkis (Capt. Haddock), Nick Frost (Thompson), Simon Pegg (Thompson), Toby Jones (Mr. Silk), and Daniel Craig (Sakharine)

Spoiler alert: moderate

Steven Spielberg, part XXXI: The Old Indiana Jones Chronicles

INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL

Hardly the travesty of the holy Original Trilogy that crybabies constantly say it is, the fourth Indy film is actually a rather fine adventure movie that does almost everything it does pretty damned well—but, unfortunately, does very little perfectly, which I'm afraid does set it decisively apart from its predecessors.

2008

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by David Koepp, Jeff Nathanson, and George Lucas

With Harrison Ford (Dr. Henry "Indiana" Jones, Jr.), Shia LaBeouf (Henry "Mutt" Williams), Karen Allen (Marion Williams nee Ravenwood), John Hurt (Dr. Harold Oxley), Ray Winstone (George "Mac" McHale), and Cate Blanchett (Col. Dr. Irina Spalko)

Spoiler alert: you saw it, and you probably hated it

Steven Spielberg, part XXX: But killing Palestinians isn't exactly cheap

MUNICH

Munich was its director's last masterpiece for a good long while, but a masterpiece it was nonetheless.  Whatever else, you still have to admit that taking on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict represented a somewhat braver thing than simply suggesting that the Holocaust was bad.  Plus, do you know how many cool explosions Schindler's List has?  That's right.  It has none.

2005

Directed by Steven Spielberg

Written by Tony Kushner and Eric Roth (based on the book Vengeance by George Jonas)

With Eric Bana (Avner Kaufman), Daniel Craig (Steve), Ciaran Hinds (Carl), Matthieu Kassowitz (Robert), Hanns Zischler (Hans), Matthieu Amalric (Louis), Michael Lonsdale (Papa), Geoffrey Rush (Ephraim), Omar Metwally (Ali), and Ayelet Zurer (Daphna Kaufman)

Spoiler alert: to the best of my knowledge, Israel never faced another terrorist attack again