Last night was dedicated to watching Spielberg’s 1989 Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade with utmost zeal and concentration. Max was over, who’s an Indiana aficionado and insisted we watch it, because of all the films in the franchise, “the Last Crusade takes to cake”. Max was like an official commentary, fervently filling me in on the back story as the initial credits rolled. I watched a young Indiana reach for a whip from the wall of a moving train carriage to tame the lion he’d just encountered, and was told that “the whip will be significant later on” — a fact I inferred from my previous Indiana Jones knowledge that stems from watching How I Met Your Mother. Then, as Jones was shown an ancient stone that would lead the way to the holy grail, Max explained that the arche-xplorer (word mash!) needed to find three markers in order to know the way. This was followed by two exiting hours of astonishingly unlikely chance and ninja-like combat, all leading up to the dramatic conclusion where Indy had to “Let go” the cup that Jesus used at the Last Supper and would grant eternal life as it fell down a crevice deep into the earth, and Indy, his father and some other guy would ride off into the sunset…leaving me dead-panning “So basically that entire adventure got them nothing (except a father-son bond and probably abs of steel).