I went to see the new Lara Croft: Tomb Raider movie with Becky today, and I enjoyed it immensely. It’s a very fun flick. During the (awesome) climactic scene, though, I couldn’t help but think (and indeed, whisper to Becky), “This is so Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.”

But really, that’s not an insult. I firmly believe that the word “ripoff” is not, in and of itself, a derogatory term. After all, virtually all plotlines, from Shakespeare to Star Trek, are ripoffs of something; there are no new ideas, really, just old ideas creatively developed. So the important question isn’t whether something is a ripoff, but whether it’s a good ripoff or a bad ripoff. And in my opinion, Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life is a good ripoff.

It is also a fine demonstration of Hollywood’s rather recent discovery that the James Bond / Indiana Jones formula — special-effects-loaded movies centering around an action hero who routinely escapes impossible situations and saves the world roughly twice a week — works just as well, if not better, when the hero is a woman. (The Charlie’s Angels franchise is another example of this phenomenon.) For teenage and twentysomething guys, who are the presumed core audience for such movies, the only real difference is that instead of looking at the hero and thinking “I want to be like him,” they think, “I want to be with her” (or, more specifically, “I want to have sex with her”). But they’re just as likely, if not moreso, to want to watch the movie. (Who doesn’t want to see Angelina Jolie prancing around in various bathing suits, wet t-shirts, and other skin-tight outfits? C’mon, people!)

The feminist in me, however, notices that one major aspect of the James Bond / Indiana Jones stock hero has not yet been applied to the equivalent stock heroines: sexual promiscuity. Sleeping around is a huge aspect of Bond’s character, and to some extent of Indiana’s, too; but women who sleep around are still considered sluts in our society, not sexual conquerers, and that’s one double-standard that seems to be rather persistent, even in this enlightened age. (You could argue that it has a biological basis — men are programmed to spread their seed, seeking quantity of mates rather than quality, whereas women naturally seek quality — but in this age of safe sex, that hardly seems sufficient justification for perpetuating the double standard. If Lara Croft doesn’t want to get pregnant by some sleazy but hunky guy she meets during her world-saving quests, surely she could carry some condoms along with her guns and gadgets!)

See biscuit.
Eat biscuit.
Mmm… biscuit.

It looks like we may have to contend with our fifth thunderstorm in four days. Woohoo!

Becky in front of her new house. She moves in tomorrow.