George Lucas and Steven Spielberg returned to epic adventure three years after the critical and commercial success of Raiders of the Lost Ark with 1984’s Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. What resulted reverberates down to the present. Though it was the top-grossing film of that year, many critics were less enthusiastic about it. Parents were also shocked after taking their children to what they thought would be his normal Spielbergian fare. Years later, even Spielberg criticized the film, claiming that it lacks his signature touch and therefore lacks the magic. Should we be so hard on this film? Perhaps if there are issues in the film, we’ve been focusing on the wrong ones. Focusing on the correct demerits may help those more critical of the film to reevaluate their sentiments.

You can’t say that Spielberg doesn’t know how to make an arresting intro to his films. In contrast to its predecessor, Temple of Doom opens big with a logistically impossible but rousing song-and-dance number of “Anything Goes” at a Shanghai nightclub in 1935 (we’re entering prequel territory). Here Spielberg introduces our leading lady, Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw). The scene is followed by a smooth, stair-descending entrance of Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford), dressed like he stepped out of a James Bond film. Given the origin of George Lucas’s character, it makes sense; he is an American-bred Bond who relies more on intelligence than luck. Soon, a double-cross situation with gangsters unfolds, followed by an escape through the window with Willie in tow and a meeting with Short Round (Ke Huy Quan), the second sidekick who, unlike many films featuring young performers, doesn’t irritate the older audience members. They’re soon on a flight to India, where the rest of the adventure takes place—perhaps destiny brings them to a downtrodden village to the titular temple of doom, and from there, the ride on the reel rarely slows down.

This plot sounds like exciting material for a new adventure for a beloved character, so what are the complaints and issues that have been lobbied at the film? Let’s first look at the “Willie Scott problem.” We know that Willie Scott is no Marion Ravenwood; however, why should she be? Yes, Willie is shrill, lacks toughness and adaptability, and is often plain annoying. That’s what a pampered nightclub singer would be like, dropped into the remote regions of colonial India. Yes, Spielberg did exaggerate her character traits during certain sequences. However, how would we act if we saw strange dining, insect infestation, and ritual sacrifice carried out by supernatural means? Somehow, I don’t believe that most of the audience would have the calmer demeanor of Jones and Short Round.

This brings us to the next often-raised criticism of the film: the depiction of Indian culture. First, this film is a spiritual sequel to the Cary Grant-helmed Gunga Din of 1939. Just as the villainous Thuggees (the etymology of the commonly used “thug”) of that film don’t represent all Indians, neither do the Thuggees and the evil leadership of the superb villain, Mola Ram (Amrish Puri), represent anthropological studies either. Critics will often protest the banquet scene, mentioning that most Indians have a vegetarian diet, but then they will fail to reason why it’s there as an introduction to the palace’s atmosphere. It’s not there to portray the average Indian as bizarre diners, but it’s to show the audience that something off and nefarious is going down at Pankot Palace, though the influence is then unknown. Let’s not forget that this picture is a throwback to the adventure films of the 1930s. Those films were of a different period, often quickly plotted, and didn’t allow much room for nuance. We’re not watching a documentary with Temple of Doom. Furthermore, the more serious-minded Gandhi came out two years before and won multiple Academy Awards, but you can easily guess which film is being discussed decades later.

What issue is with Temple of Doom? I believe that Spielberg felt that the film was too thematically dark during the production process and not after the release. This is why I believe there are too many humorous elements that are incongruous with the sinister atmosphere and deeds of the villains. While Raiders has incidental comedy, tinged with irony, it feels that Spielberg put in superfluous gags to lighten the mood, and most of these deliberately call back to Raiders. Thus, while Mola Ram is intimidating and perhaps the singular memorable villain of the series, his lackeys often seem to be just fodder for the sequential shenanigans. When Mola Ram is not on screen, opposite Jones, I never feel that our hero is truly in danger. Somehow, Spielberg has turned the menacing, cult-like presence of the Thuggee followers of Gunga Din into a weaker performance, resembling Three Stooges antics. Maybe he was adding another 1930s genre to the earlier mix of adventure, screwball comedy, and musical.

Harrison Ford’s acting is impeccable, even when confronted with silly antagonists. Because he’s accompanied by two companions with differing personalities and he’s brought to his lowest point in the series, he must display a range of emotions through body language and facial expression. Although Ford appears more comfortable portraying a stoic disposition, a sly grin, or righteous indignation in his roles, he is capable of going beyond these expressions to take Indy on this character-changing journey. Compare the scenes of the spike pit booby trap, when he realizes the dire situation of the enslaved children, and when he comes under the influence of the “blood of Kali”—it’s no wonder Ford was later praised for his roles in less fantastic fare, such as Witness and The Mosquito Coast.

Finally, John Williams’s score contributes much to propel the characters through the film’s various set pieces. The memorable scenes of the inflatable raft escape, journey to the temple by elephant, Mola Ram’s Kali ritual, mine cart chase, and the climatic rope bridge confrontation would still be lessened without the music. The “Raiders March” will always be the most identifiable Indiana Jones theme, but pieces like “Short Round’s Theme” and “Slave Children’s Parade” bring a new sense of grandeur and wonder to the adventure.

I remember when Temple of Doom was verboten by my parents. There was a time when I was at Montgomery Ward, and one of the electronics displays showed the film’s ending, followed by the credits rolling a few minutes later. I ran to my parents, excitedly telling them that I had just seen part of the film. Soon after, I watched the film in its entirety at a friend’s house. The mystery and ambivalence around this entry still exist in the world, but time has diminished those sentiments. Spielberg may no longer appreciate the film, but the viewer must acknowledge it when a creator goes in a new direction with a popular property, especially when contemporary family films have become numbingly safe.