One of those occasional Steven Spielberg disasters, though a far more interesting one than The Lost World: Jurassic Park. This is another ill-advised sequel – hastily constructed, poorly cast (I still cringe thinking about Kate Capshaw, Spielberg’s future wife) – yet there are moments that run so wildly off the rails you watch the picture with something approaching glee. I’m thinking, in particular, of the willfully anachronistic opening song-and-dance number and the dinner of baby snakes and monkey brains. Less amusingly outrageous are the scenes of extreme violence, which involve either the ripping out of hearts or the whipping of children. (Along with Gremlins, Temple of Doom helped usher in the PG-13 era.) There are instances that manage to evoke the Indiana Jones mystique – that mine-car chase, the standoff on the rope bridge – but too often the movie makes you wonder if Spielberg and series producer George Lucas might have been going through some sort of drug phase.
