I did not play with Barbies growing up, nor am I an avid history buff, but my life changed forever when my dad brought home VHS copies of the Indiana Jones trilogy from none other than McDonald’s back in 1991. I wore those tapes out.

I’m older now, as is Harrison Ford, cresting 80 in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, an adventure film at odds with itself and its legacy as its impervious explorer in a fedora constantly grumbles, “I’m too old for this.”

And he’s right, as evidenced by the need for uncanny de-aging in the prologue. The opening scene feels like an apologetic course-correct from the previous film, setting Indy against the Nazis like they’re the Cobra to his G.I. Joe. Here, a “young” Jones and his co-archeologist Basil Shaw (Toby Jones) steal half of an ancient artifact from the Nazis: Archimedes’ dial.

This sequence is indicative of the action/adventure formula new series director James Mangold (Logan, but also The Wolverine) brings to the table. There are clever moments as Indiana attempts to evade detection on a train full of Nazis, and then there are bombastic, CGI-heavy set-pieces, though thankfully none as bad as Spielberg’s worst (and none nearly as good as Spielberg’s best, either).

The rest of the film is a globetrotting affair set a quarter century later. Indy reluctantly teams up with the daughter of his deceased colleague, Helena Shaw. Just as Shia LaBeouf was once set up to be Jones’s successor, Phoebe Waller-Bridge now fills that role as Helena. Her camera-winking antics from Fleabag feel mismatched here, especially without the self-loathing to balance it out, but she’s smart and capable, and a bit of a scoundrel to boot.

Also set up is a new Short Round. Helena’s companion is a little pickpocket named Teddy, who is fine in his own right, but the obvious comparisons to Indy’s sidekick in Temple of Doom only highlight Ke Huy Quan’s complete absence from the series ever since, especially given some of the other appearances that serve the story as little more than nostalgia bait.

Together, the three race against Dr. Voller (Mads Mikkelsen, nailing it as an evil Nazi physicist) in search of the other half of Archimedes’ McGuffin, a device so dangerous that Archimedes split it in two and hid the pieces. He also made a map to the pieces written in code, but whatever.

Indy’s latest adventure isn’t as bad as his previous one, but it still fails to live up to any of the three from the 20th century. The action scenes are more serviceable than memorable (the tuk-tuk chase in Tangier is fun, though). The little bits that do work are the moments when Indy gets to express his regrets and desires. The moments are unearned, but Ford’s experience sells them.

Indiana Jones is now a weary old man who’s been chasing history his whole life, often to the detriment of his present. His adventuring days are behind him. And when the movie gives him the chance to go out in a way any historian would be thrilled to go out—in a ridiculous, over-the-top, fantastical finale that somehow worked for me—the film blinks. Despite all the setup to pass the whip to a new adventurer, whoever is in charge is too afraid to hang up Indy’s hat, which, at this point, belongs in a museum.