Have you ever stopped to think about a movie explosion? Really sat down and thought about it? We're going to guess that the answer is "no." And why should you? There's only so much musing one can do on a giant fireball, no matter how much you overcrank the camera (Michael Bay, we're looking at you).

When it comes to Raiders, however, that climactic blast of noise and light operates on a completely different level. Literally. In short, all of that sound and noise in the climactic scene represents the Wrath of a Very, Very Angry God, smiting the unrighteous while sparing the virtuous conveniently tied up in their midst.

That's a great way of demonstrating who's been on the Almighty's naughty list. The villains go poking at it and get their just comeuppance by turning into a living anatomy lesson. Who knew people could melt like that? The heroes (particularly Indy, who has picked up the wisdom he needs to be a better man) keep their eyes shut and are spared. There's no better way to demonstrate that evil gets its just deserts, and no better way to show that our hero has grown and changed enough to earn a spot back on Team Good Guys.

From the Symbolic to the Practical

But if the symbolism is fairly obvious here, the means by which the filmmakers show it to us is much different. This can't just look like a fireball. We have to sense the power of Creation in it as well, something so powerful and blinding that it would burn us to cinders if we even looked at it. And that takes more than just a crazy FX guy with a lot of detonators.

So Spielberg combines the overt stuff that costs a lot of money with some strong concepts that don't cost much at all. The phenomenon starts slow, with smoke and wispy phantoms rising up out of the Ark in a manner that prompts more curiosity than fear. They slowly become more distinct, looking more like people and less like anthropomorphic lens flares as each shot goes on. The Nazis are initially enchanted by it, though Indy and Marion have long since clenched their peepers shut. There's a sense of wonder to these images: They seem almost magical, as something more than just mindlessly destructive. Perhaps even something that might see fit to bring creatures like us to life.

That conveys the notion that God is, in fact, in the house. Now it's time to drop the righteous anger on them. One ghost melts into a howling skull as the heavy stuff starts. Fiery lightning moves from one Nazi to the next in a straight line, and when the flaming cloud comes down to claim them all, it comes like a wave. It strikes with purpose and moves like something being guided. At the end, the fire rises into an opening hole in the clouds, which closes again once the fireworks are over. It does all that while leaving Indy and Marion completely untouched in the middle of it all.

Again, that all comes in the storyboard session and in the editing, where Spielberg's shots can give the fire flow and function. It shows how filmmaking can convey a specific theme and impression—in this case, from a story perspective as well as a shock-and-awe perspective. That may explain why the scene holds up and why it still feels stronger than scenes shot with far more sophisticated technology.