One of the "secrets" to success requires traveling on failures, so before Steven Spielberg could ever create the darkness that works so well in A.I. and Minority Report, he had to experiment with his gloomier side in earlier works. Arguably his most failed attempt at darkness occurs in 1984's Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where Spielberg clumsily mixes subterranean cult activities with the Wizard of Oz and an amateurish blonde I Love Lucy figure. Fortunately in the newly released DVD box set that includes a worthwhile extras disk of background featurettes, it's sandwiched between the fabulous Raiders of the Lost Ark and the charming and fun Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It will forever remain the forgotten step-sister that won't see further play in my DVD player. Even Spielberg seems embarrassed by that film--he's probably never going to watch it through again either.

So why did Spielberg craft such a project? The answer rests with producer George Lucas, who had seen how successful his follow-up darker episode to Star Wars had been. He wanted something "different" from the first Indiana Jones movie, but essentially was adopting the same formula that worked for his blockbuster. One factor that Lucas overlooked, however, was that he had hired a different director for his Star Wars sequel but stayed with Spielberg for the Indiana Jones series. Perhaps Irwin Kershner could have tapped the dark side of Indy more effectively or Lawrence Kasdan could have fashioned a stronger script, but what we are left with is a mish mash of clever ideas and set pieces that never find a proper tone and simply don't hold together very well. Even John Williams overdoes the score this time, and Spielberg attempts to cover the film's emotional lapses with his excessively loud and sappy soundtrack.

Set in 1935 Shanghai, Temple of Doom opens with a promising homage to 1930's musicals as American Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw) sings and dances through the credits in "Anything Goes," which visually foreshadows the fires of the Indian cult that will force them to adhere to the lyrics. It's a year earlier than the Ark of the Covenant adventures, and mercenary archaeologist Indiana (Harrison Ford) deals a Chinese artifact to double-crossing underworld figure Lao Che (Roy Chiao) inside the Obi Wan Club (a "wink" to Lucas). Before long, chaos ensues. Diamond and poison antidote McGuffins are kicked around a dance floor while machine gun fire blazes among the club patrons before Indy and inadvertent partner Willie are rickshawed away by Indy's plucky 11-year old cohort, Short Round (Jonathan Ke Quan), but that's not the end to the dangers as we know from Saturday morning serials and from the first of the trilogy.

Eventually, the trio lands in a remote impoverished Indian village that mysteriously suffers from drought and famine and has no children. A native shaman explains how the village has remained under a curse ever since its sacred Sankara stone was stolen, and Indy becomes intrigued for reasons of fame and fortune with an added dose of humanity after an emasculated child prisoner escapes and staggers home--a scene so staged that it invokes more disgust with the filmmakers than intended pity.

After a jungle elephant journey with vampire bats mimicking Dorothy's encounter with the wicked witch of the West, the trio lands inside Pankot Palace, where the bulk of the plot unfolds. A 13-year old boy serves as a figurehead maharajah while the real power rests with the evil Mola Ram (Amrish Puri), High Priest of the Thuggee Cult that specializes in literally ripping hearts out before lowering sacrificial humans into its fiery subterranean Temple of Doom. The centerpiece of its wicked alter are three Sankara stones that glow brilliantly when together, but inconspicuously exist in natural browns when separate. Should all five of the world's stones be brought together, Mola Ram would then rule the entire planet. So Indy's task is well defined and predictable. The only question is how much fun our hero will have along the way.

Alas, there's not a lot of joy in Pankot. It's not all a loss--the opening sequence, the surreal Indian dinner featuring chilled monkey brains, and the mine cart roller coaster chase scene are fun enough to bring a few smiles and DVD technology allows us to select scenes. Most of the rest are forgettable or painfully manipulative. The large group scenes of children rushing en masse to surround Indy and Willie represent some of the most wooden choreography that Spielberg has ever staged, only amplifying how emotionally sterile the entire film turns out to be. In Raiders, Ford is far more playful and achieves some chemistry with Karen Allen, but here both Ford and Capshaw simply go through the motions--there's little energy and no heart to their performances.

Capshaw's role is especially thinly drawn and weakly written. Serving as little more than "comic relief," her hackneyed lines portray her as a stereotypical ditsy blonde, preoccupied with glittering diamonds, her manicure job, and sexual appeal. Her lines express the fantasy that she could've been Indy's "greatest adventure," but her delivery is so flat and phony that she can't be taken seriously. And that's just how Spielberg treats her in the production--strictly goofball window dressing to blunt the overall gloomy aspects of the film. She must have talents unseen on the screen since she does capture Spielberg's heart during the process--they marry in 1991.

Besides marking when Capshaw and Spielberg first meet, the main historical significance of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom lies with the MPAA rating system. Heavily criticized for its darkness and intensity when released, many felt its PG rating failed to adequately warn parents about its content. Spielberg agreed, and contacted Jack Valenti; thus, the PG-13 rating was born. I remember the furor surrounding the film upon its release, but the main problem rests not with its purported darkness, but with Spielberg's inability to find a way to find a consistent tone for the film.

The style is definitely Spielberg. Spicing suspenseful darker scenes with obvious slapstick, goofy lines, or sappy sentimentality just doesn't work. His stilted attempts to soften Doom's gloom only create a sense of manipulative phoniness, like a generic roller coaster ride that you have no desire to board again--at least not for 19 years. On the plus side, the weakest of the trilogy still has a few decent set pieces left over from discarded ideas from Raiders, and it instructively demonstrates exactly what doesn't work with Indiana Jones.