[Though it was originally written before we recorded the Indiana Jones podcast, and though these positions of the author were more or less covered in that discussion, we are presenting here Matthew Belinkie's original musings on Indy 4. They are, if nothing else, of historical interest. --Ed.]

My freshman year of college, I was really really excited about Star Wars: Episode 1. I bought a plastic lightsaber. I tuned into MTV for the premiere of the “Duel of the Fates” music video. Downloaded all the trailers, including the TV spots. And then I went to see it on opening day… and I claimed to love it. Lord help me, I came out of that theater and said I was totally satisfied.

Of course, that state of denial didn’t last long. Gradually, over the next year, after seeing it again and talking to others, I had to admit the movie was a huge disappointment. But initially, I wanted it to be good so much that I just couldn’t bring myself to admit that it wasn’t.

I’m not going to make that same mistake now. As much as I wanted a fourth amazing Indiana Jones adventure to add to the other three I have memorized, Crystal Skull doesn’t cut it. Here’s some of my initial gripes.

First of all, if you ever intended to sit down on a beach somewhere and enjoy John Philip Sousa’s 1902 novel The Fifth String, stop reading now. This is going to be a spoiler-heavy review. (If you do want to check the book out yourself, the etext is available here.)

The Fifth StringAs you might expect from America’s foremost bandleader, the novel is about a musician. As you might NOT expect, it’s about a violinist. But it turns out that violin was Sousa’s first instrument, and always one of his best. So there.

The violinist in question is Angelo Diotti, a famous virtuoso arriving in New York to make his American debut. On the night before the performance, he attends a party and instantly falls in love with the daughter of a prominent banker:

He seemed hypnotized by the vision, which moved slowly from between the blue-tinted portieres and stood for the instant, a perfect embodiment of radiant womanhood, silhouetted against the silken drapery.

Don’t worry - I had to look up “portiere” too.