What? My morning class is canceled? Finally, a chance to catch up on some long-overdue work. I seriously have about twenty emails to write.
Or maybe . . .
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| DUN dadada duh duh dadada dadada dadada dadada dun duhduh dun . . . |
I recently heard an interesting theory about Star Wars put forth by Dr. AmyLaura Hall of Duke Divinity School: George Lucas’s changing explanation of The Force (first as a religious/spiritual phenomenon in the original trilogy and then as a scientific/biological phenomenon in the prequel films) represents a cultural shift in America’s perception of science and religion. It represents an increased emphasis on science and highlights the diminished credibility of churches, clergy, and all things spiritual. Or maybe I’m extrapolating a bit beyond what she actually said. I believe her exact quote was, “You know something’s wrong when even The Force has become science. Midi-chlorians? Really? You can’t measure The Force!” Yep, George Lucas converted a mystic religion into a measurable science, but what does the changing significance of The Force really say about our culture? At the very least, what does it say about George Lucas?
The Basics of Star Wars
The original Star Wars trilogy --A New Hope (1977), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), and The Return of the Jedi (1983)-- may very well be the most famous series of science fiction/fantasy films ever released. Quotes from the film have made their way into virtually every sector of American popular culture, and nerds like yours truly reference the films on a daily basis. The original trilogy follows the story of Luke Skywalker, a farmhand on the backwater planet of Tatooine who goes on to become the galaxy’s last great Jedi Knight, a champion of good in a universe run by evil. In a nutshell, Star Wars is a coming-of-age spaghetti western space opera. Because it is naturally assumed to be a part of every American child’s film diet, I see no reason to explain the plot beyond this. Star Wars catapulted Harrison Ford into fame. It created one of cinema’s most iconic villains (if not the iconic villain). It overshadowed the rest of Alec Guinness’s already-impressive career and made his name synonymous with Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is a landmark film that has become such a part of popular culture that any schmuck on any barstool anywhere in America (if not the world) knows what you mean by, “May The Force be with you.” If you have never seen it, stop reading this, go make some nachos, and borrow the original Star Wars from one of your cooler friends. I’ll wait.
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| Cover to Timothy Zahn's Heir to the Empire |
The original trilogy of films maintained a diehard following for two decades, during which time, George Lucas licensed authors to use his characters in novels and comicbooks that served as official sequels to the original trilogy of films. In particular, an author named Timothy Zahn published a trilogy of books (Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, and The Last Command) in the mid-1990s that became so popular that Lucas decided to strike while the iron was hot. To commemorate the 20th anniversary of A New Hope and ride the Zahn books’ popularity, Lucas went back and added in computer-generated special effects to the original films, re-releasing them (along with toys, comicbooks, etc.) as Star Wars: The Special Edition. What a scam. If you buy into Lucas’s line about how this was “how the films were originally intended to look,” then answer me this: Why would Lucas throw in a brief scene on the planet Coruscant, which Zahn originally created? Yep, Lucas was riding another writer’s popularity, and he cashed in big time. Even though the added CGI was criticized as cheapening the films’ artistic integrity, you can’t argue with sales. Milking the media attention for all it was worth, Lucas announced that the long-awaited prequel films would soon be released as well! You see, although the first film had originally been released as “Star Wars,” Lucas had later added “Episode IV: A New Hope” to the title with the intention of someday going back and writing three more films to lead up to the original Star Wars-- a pretty bold move that wound up paying off . . . sort of.
I say it paid off because, financially, that statement does hold true. Artistically, the Star Wars prequels are considered one of the most notorious train wrecks in American film. Episode I was awful, but I was young enough when it came out that I bought the toys and video games anyway. Episode II was even worse, and I was in high school by that point and was starting to notice. “Hmm, that’s strange,” I thought to myself in the angst-filled theater, “This special effects reel doesn’t seem to have any discernable plot, and I don’t feel invested in any of these characters. Well, that’s no good.” Episode III, despite being hailed as “the best of the prequels” (which is sort of like being the tallest munchkin), was a phenomenal disappointment that left me feeling completely and totally apathetic, and it almost forever ruined Star Wars. Normally, I either hate a movie or love a movie, but by the end of Episode III’s staggering 140-minute runtime, I cared so little about the characters and plot that I couldn’t even form an opinion. The film did so little to engage me that I was never able to weigh in fully for or against it. Between the boring characters, boring action scenes, boring dialogue, and boring plot, I just wanted to leave. Thankfully, Star Wars was saved by a group of animators about two years ago, since --as I keep saying-- animators are allowed to be braver than filmmakers, but I’ll get into that later.
A Little Context: 1977 vs. 1999
When the original Star Wars film was released in 1977, we had put a man on the moon nearly a decade beforehand, but deep space exploration was still just getting underway, so people were still very much excited about reaching beyond our solar system. By the release of Episode I, space exploration was old news, and I think that people lost interest when they realized how long it would take our unmanned probes to reach even the closest stars beyond our little system of planets.
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| Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon |
In 1977, disco, reggae, punk, and metal were taking off in the U.S. Dark Side of the Moon had been released four years before and was still on Billboard 200. Queen released “We Are the Champions” in the same year. The Sex Pistols added Sid Vicious on bass. You get the picture. Music was changing and innovative with a certain rebellious edge to it. By 1999, boy bands were all the rage, and looping technology was permanently revolutionizing or cheapening music (depending on who you ask). Frankly, I think that this is when industry finally finished enslaving art, but now my hipsterness is showing. The internet had taken off, but it would still be a few months before Napster would cause all that hullaballoo about file sharing, and facebook wasn’t even an idea in Mark Zuckerberg’s antisocial little head yet.
In the 1970s, awareness of the environment was starting to become a key issue in science, and the language of punctuated equilibrium had just entered evolutionary biology, helping scientists to further refine our understanding of the development of human life in spite of the perpetual controversy around evolution. By 1999, we had almost totally mapped the human genome, and “Creation Scientist” Ken Ham had been giving Christianity a bad name for the better half of a decade. Seriously, guys, we’re still debating this? All we’re doing is turning Christianity into a laughing stock by our willingness to misconstrue scientific findings and misrepresent years of research, not to mention bastardizing our own sacred text. It’s okay to reject evolution on the basis of belief, but creationism is in no shape or form a science. Oh well, that’s a rant for another time (and maybe even a different blog). I’ll get around to talking about creationism later. That debate had been around for well over a century when the prequels were released, but the involvement of people like Ham was making it all the more outlandish, and the creationist perspective was devolving into a caricature of itself-- not to mention a caricature of the religion it was representing in the media.
You get what I’m hinting at though. A lot changed in the twenty-two years between Star Wars: A New Hope and Star Wars: Episode I, and America’s religious landscape was not exempt from this change. By 1977, Eastern religions had been popularized in America (particularly through our celebrities’ intense interest in them), so an old, mystic monk living in the deserts of Tatooine or the swamps of Dagobah would be a recognizable religious trope. The language of an “energy field that . . . holds the universe together” (Obi-Wan Kenobi’s description of The Force) would resonate strongly with both Eastern and Western religious audiences. The concept of The Force and the Jedi had appeal for religious and spiritual audiences regardless of their specific religious affiliations. By 1999, however, Lucas felt the need to give this spiritual system a grounding in science through the introduction of tiny particles called “midi-chlorians” that exist within the cells of Force-using individuals-- effectively discounting the notion of The Force as a great, mystical energy field. Yep, Lucas supplanted the spiritual nature of his own fictional universe by pretty much turning the Jedi into the X-Men, but before we delve further into this, let’s take a quick detour to establish a trend unfolding in Lucas’s work.
Why did it have to be aliens?
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| One of my favorite movies of all time. |
Star Wars was not the only Lucas film franchise to take a turn away from the religious/spiritual in recent years. Think about Indiana Jones. Raiders of the Lost Ark came out in 1981, and the title object for which everyone was searching was the Ark of the Covenant-- a religious artifact with mysterious, supernatural powers (the source of which were never exactly explained but assumed to be somehow divine or demonic). 1984’s Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom revolved around ritual and dark magic that was very loosely based on cultic practices devoted to the Hindu goddess Kali, and . . . actually, that’s about all I want to say about that one. The film doesn’t paint the most positive portrait of Indian religious practices, and the writers openly admitted to stirring in some other cultures’ ancient practices as well (particularly the Aztecs). Plus, I’m not really a Short Round fan, and Willie Scott is right behind Queen Amidala on my list of worst female characters ever, so let’s move on to happier territory. 1989’s Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (which I treasure just as much as Raiders) continued the trend of religious artifacts. In fact, this film centered around the religious artifact: the Holy Grail. Sure, the real focus of the film was on the relationship between Indy and his estranged father, but the Grail looms over the whole thing, and it is seen to possess unexplained, otherworldly powers just as the Ark did. So yeah, we have a trend in Indiana Jones films: they revolve around religious and cultic artifacts with mystical powers, and the two better films of the trilogy even tie directly to Jewish/Christian mysticism. This all works because Indy is an archaeologist and historian; his adventures are grounded in his vast knowledge of ancient earthly cultures, and I’ll bet you can guess where I’m headed with this.
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| One of my most reviled films of all time. |
When 2008 rolled around, the world had to sit through Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I hate this movie with a passion, and I see it as just another entry in Shia LaBeouf’s one-man war on my childhood. I find Cate Blanchett’s character uninteresting and clichéd. I think the Jones family dynamic (which was the highlight of Last Crusade) felt forced and artificial, and it seemed like a not-so-subtle lunge to turn Crystal Skull into a full-on family film. Still, the worst part was the magical macguffin over which the characters were feuding: an alien skull. No, seriously. An alien skull. Not just an enchanted skull or a skull with mystical powers. An alien skull. Aliens. In an Indiana Jones movie. Aliens. George, let me explain this to you since you clearly don’t get it: Indiana Jones’ universe is based around archeological finds and occult artifacts. The Ark of the Covenant, the Sankara Stones, the Holy Grail-- they’re all part of earthly history and folklore. The incorporation of outer space and extraterrestrial life places an unrealistic demand on viewers’ abilities to suspend their disbelief. It yanks the viewer out of the film and back into his or her seat with the sudden realization of “Oh, right, this is just a movie.” This moment should never happen until the closing credits of a movie, and you killed the climax of your film by wedging it in there. You took a barely-passable movie, and in this moment --the big reveal that the skull is of alien origin-- you turned it into a bad movie. You violated the rules of the film universe that you created and, as a result, you undermined your own movie. Way to go, George. You turned religion into science yet again and ticked off just as many of your diehard fans.
In truth, I have no idea why George Lucas did this horrible thing to the Indiana Jones franchise, but I do have a theory. There are two assumptions at work here. The first is that movie audiences today are less religious than when the original Indiana Jones films were released. Somehow, having plots that revolve around Christian artifacts just isn’t PC, so Lucas is providing something that cannot offend: aliens. No one is excluded if the artifact is alien. The second assumption is that audiences will believe a scientific explanation (alien remains) over a spiritual one (holy artifact). The removal of a spiritual aspect from the film indicates Lucas’s belief that an audience will be more likely to believe in aliens than in the Ark of the Covenant possessing mystical powers, and this assumption undercuts the potential for storytelling to an absurd degree. In Raiders, the Ark’s power really didn’t need an explanation. Characters knew what it was, and there was no need to question that the Ark of the Covenant’s power came from the ancient Israelites’ relationship with God. Flash forward to Crystal Skull though, and you’ve suddenly got a lot of explaining to do. The Ark of the Covenant is thoroughly engrained in Western culture, but aliens? Suddenly, the audience is in a realm that it does not understand, and a convoluted exposition has to take over, and that’s not how an Indiana Jones film ought to function.
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| Why, George? Why? |
There are so many more believable, recognizable artifacts for which Indy could have searched. How about the Spear of Longinus? Pandora’s Box? The Labyrinth of Crete? Atlantis? Hell, if Lucas and Spielberg were so set on using the Central American jungle as a setting, why not have Indy search for El Dorado or the Fountain of Youth? Lucas could have done either of these artifacts and still catered to Indy’s archeological roots without appealing to Christian sensibilities, but that wasn’t good enough. Space trumps folklore, and we got aliens because George Lucas assumes that you, the viewer, are an easily-offended atheist who is uninformed about ancient civilizations and places all your faith in science, and frankly, that should be far more offensive to an atheist viewer than the presence of a religious artifact. Does Lucas really think that American audiences are that ignorant and uninformed? Does he think that we are that unfamiliar with our world’s religious and cultural history? George, even if we really are that stupid, God gave us smartphones and Wikipedia so that we could compensate, and I would not be above googling an unfamiliar artifact right there in the theater. Put a little faith in your audience. We’re smarter than you think. Of course, now that I think of it, Spielberg was involved in this whole debacle too, so maybe the alien angle was just his way of saying, “Hey, remember when I directed Close Encounters of the Third Kind? Wasn’t that movie fun? I think there’s a special edition DVD version coming out soon; maybe you should buy it. Oh, and you know what else? I’m starting work on this movie called Super 8 that’ll be another science fiction. I’m good at science fiction. You want to give me money.” I mean, I’m focusing on Lucas right now, but just sayin’.
Wow, I really hate that movie. Maybe I should go watch Last Crusade and cool off a bit. I’m going to go make some nachos. Back in 5.
What is The Force?
Okay, that was a fun, little tangent, and I managed to sort out a lot of my pent-up rage over Crystal Skull, but back to the matter at hand: Star Wars. So, what is this thing called The Force, and how does it function? What is its purpose in the movie?
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| Alec Guinness as Obi-Wan Kenobi |
The neat thing about The Force is that it is a religion of which we have evidence, and yet, Han Solo still doesn’t believe in it! He calls it “magic tricks” and tries to persuade Luke away from it in the first movie. In fact, the tension between Han and Obi-Wan as two people trying to teach Luke drastically different ways of looking at the universe is one of the things that made the original trilogy so amazing. On board the Millennium Falcon, as Obi-Wan teaches Luke to control his instincts and tap into The Force, Han assures the young Tatooinian that no hokey old religion is as useful as a good blaster at your side. (Yes, like many males in their 20s, I can quote this entire movie, so virtually all of this dialogue is verbatim.) When Luke questions Han’s lack of belief, Han and Obi-Wan exchange a few words before Han is summoned back to the ship’s cockpit. It’s a great scene (as most of the scenes in the first Star Wars film are). It seems worth stating though that there was not some deep-seated allegory for a modern issue at work in this scene; it wasn’t any sort of commentary on modern religious debate; it was simply a beautiful way to explain two characters’ worldviews through a single conversation without a lot of superfluous backstory. Han’s rebellious streak and pragmatism are displayed, while Obi-Wan’s sagaciousness is reinforced. Different characters’ reactions to The Force are a way that Lucas revealed their personalities. Luke showcases his youth and ignorance. Han shows his cynicism. Admiral Motti shows his lack of respect (unless Vader is choking him). In this first run of films, The Force is not something in which everyone believes anymore, and so even though I don’t see The Force as a direct analogue for any one religious tradition, Lucas is providing an interesting commentary on faith and how people’s displays or rejections of faith can influence an audience’s opinion of a character. Neat, huh?
Obviously, since Obi-Wan and Vader and Yoda and Luke all use it, The Force clearly does exist. Obi-Wan explains that, “The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It is an energy field that surrounds us and binds us and holds the universe together.” Yoda explains further that The Force is generated by life itself, so all living things are tied back to it. By clearing their minds and tapping into The Force, the Jedi can acquire increased speed and strength, limited telekinesis, and even a clairvoyance that lends itself to telepathy and divining the future. Additionally, the Jedi carry lightsabers (swords crafted from specially-focused light) which are meant to evoke the knights of the medieval period. The lightsaber is just a symbol of the Jedi’s status, and training with it is one of the Jedi’s least important duties. At least, in the good trilogy, it was one of the least important duties. In fact, Yoda never even addresses the fact that Luke has a lightsaber. When Yoda trains Luke in Empire, Luke’s training revolves more around endurance and calming his mind in difficult situations. Yoda instructs Luke to feel The Force flowing through him and through all the other objects around the swamps of Dagobah. A Jedi’s power is not measured by his skill with a lightsaber or his ability to wage war; a Jedi’s power comes from being in tune with the world around him and allowing The Force to flow through him and guide his actions. While The Force grants power, it also demands a surrendering of the will from those who use it. Patience, humility, and self-control-- these are the allies of the Jedi.
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| Darth Vader, scariest dude ever. |
Of course, by contrast, The Force also has a dark side. A few weeks ago, I was writing about Joss Whedon and how his fictional universe seems to have a certain Manichean flavor to it. (For more on Manichaeism, see that article, and yes, I feel incredible pretentious for citing myself.) Well, George Lucas seems to have been drinking from the same fountain. The dark side is only alluded to in the first film, with Obi-Wan commenting about Darth Vader’s being “seduced by the dark side of The Force,” at which point Luke learns about The Force and the Jedi for the very first time. The concept is developed further in Empire, where Yoda explains the dark side and how a Jedi must remain vigilant against it at all times: “A Jedi’s strength flows from the Force, but beware the dark side! Anger, fear, aggression-- the dark side are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight. If once you start down the dark path, forever it will dominate your destiny. Consume you it will, as it did Obi-Wan’s apprentice.” When asked if the dark side is stronger, Yoda replies, “No. Quicker, easier, more seductive,” and Yoda assures Luke that a wise Jedi will know the difference between light and dark. The dark side’s characteristic trait seems to be aggression, while the light side seems dominated by an enlightened pacifism. Those on the dark side give way to their emotions, while those on the light side are taught to control themselves and to think of the greater good, even at the expense of loved ones. This dichotomy between a powerful light side and a seductive dark side is straight-up Manichaeism, and the dark side’s intrinsic connection to violence and extreme emotion is another hallmark of the Manichaean school of thought (which focused heavily on the spirit and eschewed preoccupation with the physical world). Augustine would hate Star Wars.
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| "I sure do hate them Manichees." --St. Augustine of Hippo |
Now, things do get a little tricky in Empire when Luke enters a cave that Yoda claims is “strong with the dark side of The Force-- a domain of evil it is.” Both the dark and light sides have substance to them and can manipulate a Jedi in certain ways. One is not simply a corruption of the other; they are diametrically opposed entities that manifest in different ways. Hooray for dualism. While the Jedi are the defenders of the Old Republic who can tap into the light side of The Force, users of the dark side are referred to as “Dark Lords of the Sith,” a title first ascribed to Darth Vader and clarified by two decades of fan fiction. Seriously, it took dozens of authors years to sort out exactly what a Sith was, but the Sith as we know them today are essentially a dark counterpart to the Jedi, and the two have been feuding for millennia, continually shifting the power balance between light and dark. I would say that goodness eventually won out when Luke (the last remaining Jedi Knight) defeated Vader (the last remaining Sith Lord). Sadly, two decades of “expanded universe” fan fiction sought to complicate matters by introducing all these other Force-sensitive people into the universe (usually as projections of the authors), and there have been entire books written just to try and sort out this convoluted continuity. In particular (as my friends Colby, Eric, and Kate recently pointed out to me), there have been like thirty female Jedi written into existence for the sole purpose of giving Luke a love interest now that we know that he and Princess Leia swam out of the same gene pool.
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| "Quit nitpicking, Tom." |
Speaking of Princess Leia, of what exactly was she the princess? The Rebel Alliance certainly didn’t have a princess; they were all about overthrowing a brutal dictator-- not establishing a monarch. She couldn’t have been Princess of the Empire; Palpatine was going to clone himself forever and run the Empire that way-- an heir would be nothing more than a threat to him. Was she Princess of Alderaan? I mean, if we’re to believe the prequel films, Bail Organa is a senator (an elected official) and not a king (an inherited position). If the King of Alderaan is an elected position, then wouldn’t it be something held temporarily and not worth ascribing royal titles to the king’s family? Wouldn’t the title of “princess” imply that Leia is somehow going to inherit this position to which her father had to be elected? What planet would be cool with a system like that? Did Alderaan have a coup or something and decide to replace their representative democracy with a monarchy sometime between episodes III and IV? Does that stuff seriously happen in the Star Wars universe? Also, no offense, Leia, but your planet got ‘sploded by the Death Star. You’re not the princess of anything anymore. It’s probably time to drop the title so that it can just become Han’s pet name for you. And this has nothing at all to do with The Force. It’s just been annoying me for a while. At least I respect Leia’s title more than Queen Amidala’s, but ragging on the prequel films’ “political subplot” is like shooting fish in a barrel, so let’s just stick to The Force.
“When 900 years old you age, look this good you will not.” --Master Yoda
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| Jedi Master Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back |
What makes The Force so interesting in the Star Wars films is the people who wield it, and this is what really informs viewers about who the Jedi were and what their mission was. In particular, Yoda is one of the greatest characters ever to grace a movie screen. There’s just something spectacular about a tiny little green puppet who has somehow been endowed with the greatest Force awareness in the universe. Also, he sounds like a dyslexic Fozzie Bear, and that’s just awesome. Luke arrives on the swampy world of Dagobah in search of a great warrior (no doubt expecting someone akin to Obi-Wan Kenobi in terms of stature and demeanor). Instead, he’s greeted by this little twerp who cryptically tells him, “Great warrior? Wars not make one great!” Even before he tips his hand and reveals his identity, Yoda is attempting to teach Luke that a Jedi is first and foremost peaceful; The Force is never to be used for attack, only defense (which is exactly what karate instructors tell their students so that they can avoid accessory-to-murder charges-- maybe Yoda’s just keeping his bases covered). Luke’s assumption that Yoda would be physically strong reveals his lack of understanding of The Force, and Yoda uses this as a teaching moment. “Judge me by my size, do you?” Yoda teaches Luke that physical strength and prowess in battle are not what constitute a great Jedi. A great Jedi is one who is fully attuned to his surroundings and judges the world based on his awareness of The Force, not by snap judgments based on appearance. Yoda exemplifies everything he teaches, utilizing his connection to The Force to pick up Luke’s X-wing starfighter, while Luke could barely levitate a rock. Yoda demonstrates that he can flex his muscles as needed, but that his real strength lies in his brain and heart, not in his brawn.
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| Poor excuse for Yoda in Attack of the Clones |
George Lucas’s inclusion of this character in the Star Wars universe is a brilliant move, but then he completely undercut it with a little travesty known as Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones. Aside from the unconvincing dialogue, cliché-ridden love story, obnoxiously pointless action scenes, and everything else that made this film such a train wreck, the most offensive thing about this movie was its treatment of Yoda. Yoda is completely reliant on the Old Republic’s military might in this film, and he repeatedly makes foolish decisions regarding . . . well, everything. The most disappointing scene in the entire film is when Yoda pulls out a child-sized lightsaber in order to fight the completely nondescript villain Count Dooku (played by the horribly underutilized Christopher Lee). Yoda jumps all over the place with Matrix-style flips in a scene that utterly destroys everything The Force is supposed to embody. Prowess with a lightsaber, the ability to shoot lightning out of his hands, skill in levitating objects-- these are not what defines a “great” Jedi. Lucas has taken something mystical and otherworldly and attempted to quantify it with this laughable fight sequence. When Yoda pulls out the lightsaber and jumps all over the place, Lucas meant it to be impressive, but when I saw the film, the entire audience broke down laughing. They laughed because these were actions that were not at all congruent with the wise, old sage we have come to know and love. They laughed because the fight made light of Yoda’s size-- something which the older Yoda explains is inconsequential. “For my ally is The Force, and a powerful ally it is!” He doesn’t need a lightsaber! He’s Yoda for crying out loud!
Here’s how the prequel films should have handled Yoda:
Yoda should have never appeared on screen during any of those films. Instead, he should have been on Dagobah or some other barely-inhabitable rock communing with The Force throughout the entirety of the Clone Wars. In fact, and this may raise a few eyebrows, I don’t think the Jedi should have participated in the Clone Wars at all. Because Yoda is so emphatic about The Force being used only for defense, I think that the Jedi would have maintained a neutral stance in the conflict with one major exception: Obi-Wan Kenobi, a headstrong young Jedi Knight who runs off to battle along with his equally-headstrong apprentice, Anakin Skywalker (whom we only see as an adult). Maybe Obi-Wan was a Jedi envoy to the Republic or a spiritual advisor to Bail Organa or something, and that’s how he got sucked into the war-- doesn’t really matter to me. Back to the Jedi, these are supposed to be “guardians of peace and order,” so I don’t think taking a side in a war would be viewed positively by the Jedi, particularly the monastically-minded Yoda. During the prequels, Obi-Wan could occasionally meditate in order to make contact with Yoda, but the little guy should never appear on screen so that, if you were to watch the films in order, Yoda’s short stature in Empire could remain a surprise. Also, a few Jedi could make appearances here and there, but revealing as little as possible about their obscure religious practices would allow for all the fan fiction to continue (as people would still be free to speculate about the order’s early history). Seriously, think about how a conflict between Obi-Wan and Yoda about the ethicality of war would color their dialogue later in Empire. If Obi-Wan defends war while Yoda criticizes it, that only serves to reinforce the positions they take on Luke’s impending showdown with Darth Vader at the end of Empire. Neat, huh? Sadly, Lucas didn’t take this approach at all, and he instead presented the Jedi as a quasi-religious group of superhumans who were little more than a political organization and pawn of the establishment. Lame.
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| And don't even get me started on how they should have handled Vader. |
Midiwhatchamacallits?
Maybe this doesn’t need all that much explanation. Just like he did to Indiana Jones, George Lucas decided that a modern audience would not accept religion and spirituality as plausible explanations for how the Jedi do what they do, so all of that stuff that I mentioned above about The Force being a two-sided energy field that guides the direction of the entire universe got tossed out in Episode I when George Lucas unleashed the concept of “midi-chlorians” onto the world. It was not acceptable to let The Force remain a spiritual phenomenon; it had to have its roots in a biological explanation. The midi-chlorians in a Jedi’s cells give him or her superpowers. The end. That’s all there is to it. When you’re accessing “The Force,” you’re really just tapping into the energy produced by these little particles. Midi-chlorians are only mentioned once in the prequel films when Qui-Gon Jinn takes a sample of Anakin’s blood to test for the little buggers, and other than this one scene, they are given virtually no explanation. I can’t help but think of those studies you keep hearing about where they perform brain scans on people in prayer/meditation to prove that brain functionality has been altered in the process. “Aha! It’s all just brain chemistry! There’s nothing spiritual about it!” I call BS, and I can’t help but feel like George Lucas is performing this exact same runaround on The Force.
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| George Lucas reveals his allegiance to the Sith. |
Lucas created a powerful spirituality in the original trilogy, and he’s using the prequels to dispel it. He is consciously undermining his own work, and the motives behind this are such a mystery to me that I don’t really know what to think of them. The original trilogy was practically a love letter to Joseph Campbell, one of the key figures in the development of comparative religion and mythology. The original trilogy was intended as a modern mythology, a great American fairy tale that freely used elements of the fantastic in its storytelling and took its inspiration from the closest thing America already had to a mythology: tales of the Wild West. For what audience are midi-chlorians intended then? I get trying to deny the existing religious elements of Indiana Jones in order to appeal to nonreligious audiences and maybe sucker in the UFO believers. I disagree with that strategy, but at least I can make sense of it. Denying The Force though? Does Lucas really think that this is what the American public wants now? Does Lucas think that we shouldn’t even get to have a mythology that we know to be fictitious? Joseph Campbell is rolling over in his grave, you pudgy sellout.
Star Wars: The Clone Wars-- making lemonade from lemons
I make no secret of it: I hate virtually everything related to the Star Wars prequels. I hate the films themselves. I hate that it jettisoned all the expanded universe fiction that Lucas had been licensing for over two decades. I hate that Lucas probably has a Scrooge McDuck-esque swimming pool full of money from toy sales. Still, sometimes, my inner fanboy creeps out, emerging from the mental cupboard where I keep him safely locked during the workweek, and sometime around June of last year, he discovered Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Let me quickly list off some reasons why this show is amazing:
- Anakin Skywalker is actually an interesting, multi-layered character, and he and Obi-Wan are even somewhat likable. Unlike in the films, Anakin is a very sympathetic individual whose latent mental instability is almost never apparent, and this is what the character should have been from the start. Sure, he’s impetuous and a little arrogant, but they make it clear that he is thinking of his friends and loved ones (unlike the ambitious, spiteful twerp from the films). When this character goes over to the dark side, I might be legitimately sad. When the film version of Anakin crossed over to the dark side, I was just bored and wanted to leave.
- On that note, there is just general positive character development going on in Clone Wars. Rather than bombarding us with exposition, the writers allow the characters’ actions to reveal their personalities. All of the crazy-looking Jedi who fill the background in the prequel films are fleshed out, and instead of saying, “This is Jedi Master Squid-Person. He is from Squid-Person Planet and exhibits the typical personality of a Squid-Person with an inexplicable Jamaican accent,” we get to learn about Master Squid-Person by seeing how he responds to the heat of battle without all the needless exposition. This is what proper character development looks like. Lengthy exposition = bad. Learning about a character by how he or she reacts to a situation = good.
- The Force has been re-mythologized, and the Jedi’s nature as a peace-keeping organization is heavily emphasized. In fact, the Jedi’s peaceful nature even costs them a few victories throughout the series, drawing attention to the fact that, despite their prowess in battle, the Jedi are a religious sect and not a military unit. In fact, there is an entire three-episode arc focusing around a debate between Obi-Wan and a Mandalorian politician about whether the Jedi have violated their principles by participating in the war. Also, even though I’ve missed a good chunk of the third season due to work, I have yet to hear the word “midi-chlorians” spoken in the series.
- Though the universally-despised Jar Jar Binks is present in the show, he is absent from about 90% of the episodes and typically plays only minor parts in the majority of the episodes where he does appear.
- Yoda has gone back to being a sage, little puppet-thing and virtually never fights. In the show’s premiere episode, Yoda teaches a group of soldiers the importance of subtlety, nonviolent tactics, and not judging a book by its cover-- you know, the traditional Yoda lessons. Sure, they have him whip out the kiddie-sized lightsaber once in a blue moon, but for the most part, this is the legitimate Empire Strikes Back iteration of Yoda.
- The episodes are surprisingly well-written and often make references to great works of literature. In fact, this may be one of those “too deep for a kids’ show” scenarios. For example, the episode “Shadow of Malevolence” features Anakin leading a strike force through a treacherous nebula in a plot straight out of The Odyssey. After sacrificing half of his squad to try and accomplish his objective, Anakin learns a valuable lesson about humility and starts to take his responsibilities as a leader more seriously. The original Star Wars films referenced classic westerns and the traditions of Western European knighthood, so it’s nice to see this series making oblique references to existing culture as well, especially in such a subtle and creative way.
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| Examples of customized clone armor. |
- There is a tremendously scathing commentary on the armed forces present in this series for those who are looking for it. One of the recurring themes is the clones’ struggle to have individual personalities even though they are all genetically engineered to be the same person. The clones are part of a war machine that conditions them to see themselves as expendable, and their varying reactions to this (acceptance, betrayal, desertion, etc.) play into virtually every episode in which they appear. Desperate to distinguish themselves, the clones all make little variations to their armor and sport radically different hairstyles/tattoos/facial hair/etc. in order to stand out from one another. This is a brilliant concept executed so flawlessly that some of the most interesting episodes feature only the clones. This is so clever that there is no way it was George Lucas’s idea, and speaking of that . . .
- George Lucas is the executive producer of the series, but he is in no other way involved in the show, leaving a generation of writers and artists who grew up on Star Wars to take this series in the direction it needs to go. References to the original trilogy are made constantly, but not in the hackneyed way that Lucas attempted in the prequel films. Admittedly, I’m nervous about the fact that they’re putting Chewbacca in it pretty soon, but other than that, references are made in a subtle way that never screams “FAN SERVICE!” like the prequel films did.
You know, this show reflects something I’ve been saying for a while now: TV enables writers to take more risks, so, as a result, I usually wind up having much more respect for television writers than filmmakers at this point. TV is rapidly replacing film as the more respected and more effective storytelling medium (think Mad Men or Lost or any of those other shows we’ve all gotten so into). A film is expected to make a certain amount of money, meaning that a writer must cater to a wide range of audiences with a film and must market it in a certain way. Furthermore, as movie audiences are increasingly demanding things that they recognize, good directors are having to resort to making half a dozen sequels, prequels, remakes, and adaptations to try and establish their credibility before they get to make the films that they really want. Think about how Zack Snyder had to direct Dawn of the Dead, Watchmen, 300, and Legend of the Guardians before he could work on a project like Sucker Punch. Think about how Chris Nolan had to direct two Batman films before he would become a recognizable enough name to make Inception. How many people honestly knew who Peter Jackson was before Lord of the Rings? Because feature films are such a financial gamble, studios are hedging their bets more and more by making things with which people are already familiar, and I actually think this has led to something of a brain-drain among filmmakers that has done nothing but benefit television.
A movie is like an apple: either it’s good or bad. You either eat it or throw it out. Television shows, on the other hand, are like grapes. If one episode is bad, it really wasn’t that big of an investment anyway, and maybe the next one will be better. You can take more risks on a television show because you have much more screen-time to work with and because your studio isn’t relying on ticket sales to make up the cost of producing the show. An unpopular show can still go on for a whole season, giving writers, directors, and cast a chance to make up for an early poor performance, and this encourages people to take serious chances (like having a very cerebral kids’ show or a science fiction space western). Filmmakers never get these chances, so their work must be instantly successful, and the safest way to do this is to try and make a film appeal to every audience possible by having battle scenes, a love story, racially-stereotyped cartoons, double-bladed lightsabers, alien skulls, and no specific references to any single religion (even the Manichean one that you yourself made up twenty years ago). Lucas has failed to rely on his own credibility and forgotten to take a risk with the Star Wars prequel films. People would have gone and seen these films no matter what, so Lucas was in a rare position to make a film without worrying about money, and he squandered that chance. He attempted to cater to every audience possible at the expense of his story and thus watered down the universe he created. By making a trilogy of films so bland that they appealed to everyone, Lucas actually made a trilogy that appealed to no one. For more on this, check out the Star Wars prequel reviews by Red Letter Media, a film critic who (last I checked) was actually the most-viewed page on YouTube. His stuff’s a little graphic, but it’s some outstanding analysis.
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| Do NOT see this movie. |
Getting back to The Clone Wars, this show had a rocky start since George Lucas wrote and directed the film that led into the series, and if you think Episode I was a kids’ movie, then you should see that horrible CG schlock. Seriously, one of the characters is an effeminate Hutt who talks like Blanche DuBois. Where does Lucas get this stuff? Thankfully, because Cartoon Network had already agreed to air the series, this gave the show’s writers the freedom to explore the Star Wars universe and really push its boundaries while delving deeper into the characters in a way that the prequels were never able (as their preoccupation with making money prevented them from doing so). The team behind Star Wars: The Clone Wars knows that it has a captive audience. They know that kids and fanboys will watch this show no matter what. They know that they will sell toys no matter what. They know that George Lucas’s credibility will save them from cancellation no matter what, and they have taken this security and run with it. Because the makers of this show grew up watching Star Wars, they have created a tone and setting much more akin to the original trilogy than the prequel film baggage should allow, but they have also pushed the envelope in some crazy ways. I once saw an episode in which Obi-Wan and Anakin visited a planet so strong with The Force that it had actually materialized itself as a sort of neoplatonic Trinity (a neutral father and two offspring representing the light and dark sides). During the course of the episode, the dark offspring showed Anakin a vision of the future in which he becomes Darth Vader, and Anakin snapped and just about killed everyone else on the planet to try and protect the rest of the universe by preventing that future. Now isn’t that a far more plausible explanation for his turning to the dark side than just trying to save Natalie Portman? Sure, it’s a little farfetched, but at least it’s not all that lame prophecy tripe from the prequel films, and I feel like the writers of that episode were even subtly acknowledging how unconvincing Anakin’s corruption in Episode III really was-- now that’s a gutsy move. Even though the prequels pretty much ruined Star Wars forever, this show is taking some serious strides to try and redeem it, and it might actually give me a little hope for this franchise continuing on somehow. Wait? What’s that? No. Please, no. This can’t be happening!
NOOOOOO!
The Sith aren’t killing Jedi. The census-takers are.
Even though George Lucas is doing everything in his power to kill off Star Wars, at least fans remain true to the spirit of the original trilogy. Currently, my favorite testament to the lasting influence of Star Wars lies in Britain and New Zealand’s census data. In 2001, nearly 400,000 British citizens declared “Jedi” as their official religious preference. I first found out about this through an Escapist article about UK atheists’ negative response to the swelling number of Jedi in their midst. The article is viewable here:
How hilarious is that? I love the fact that Star Wars fans have such a great sense of humor that they’re willing to skew national census data. You can’t help but love a franchise that generates such great practical jokes among its fan base. Of course, only the most deluded fans would believe that they are actually Jedi (and there have been rare instances of it), but there are also certain lessons that we can all take from the Jedi. Sure, The Force isn’t really a valid metaphor for any existing religion --barring some of the increasingly-Manichean sects of “fundamentalist” Christianity out there--, but the lessons taught in Star Wars are still applicable in our daily lives. Greatness doesn’t lie in physical mightiness. An awareness and concern for the world around you will benefit everyone in the end. Um . . . don’t cut off people’s hands? You get what I’m saying. The teachings of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda are insightful perspectives into humanity’s role in the universe, and the idea of The Force is one to which people can relate whether they are religious or not. At least we all agree that something binds this whole crazy world together, whether it’s God or the Tao or just the prevailing sense of humanity. Lucas took a chance by exploring that in his original trilogy, but somewhere between 1977 and 1999, he lost his way and bought into the delusion that the American public has no regard for anything spiritual (even if it’s presented in a way that is consciously fictitious).
The Star Wars films were originally created to be a mythology, a not-necessarily-fictitious collection of stories that reveal something about the human condition and hold significance for our culture. For two decades, they remained exactly that, perfectly preserved in the hearts of fans and the pages of officially-licensed expanded universe fiction. Then George Lucas made three films that in no way exemplified what the original Star Wars trilogy was about-- three films that undercut the notion of a mythology completely and attempted to supplant it with a shoehorned science into which no one bought. Just as he would later do with Indiana Jones, Lucas stripped his fictional universe of its key spiritual component: The Force. Still, The Force lives on through its fans. Through every parent who insists that their children watch the original trilogy first, The Force lives on. Through the writers of The Clone Wars who seek to return Star Wars to its mythological roots, The Force lives on. Through every person who has cited Yoda as a credible philosopher or listed their religious preference as “Jedi” on a census, The Force lives on.
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| Lucas with a Boba Fett poser |
In Star Wars, Lucas created a mythology that was bigger than him and his wallet combined, and this mythology’s undermining through the prequel films isn’t just an assault on nostalgic manchildren; it is an attempt to derail a key component of American pop culture. Lucas’s actual motives for this completely escape me, but my assumption is that he perceives America as an increasingly-secular environment in which The Force just won’t sell toys anymore. I know that we have become increasingly pluralistic (much to our cultural benefit), but whether the country has grown more secular or not, I have no idea. Sure, we can refer to census data and church attendance studies, but the truth is that we lack the data-collecting tools to measure people’s spiritual lives. Lucas is working under the assumption that the American public will not buy into a spiritual idea like The Force or the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail, and I think that all the criticism that has flown his way over these films is ample indication that he could not be more wrong. No matter what the religious landscape may look like right now, everyone appreciates a good story, and everyone can understand the value of a potent myth, whether it is based in past earthly civilizations or in a galaxy far, far away.
Lucas had a chance to use his stockpiled Hollywood clout to make yet another such myth, but instead, we got stuck with midi-chlorians. Stand up to this garbage. Don’t pay to see the 3D Star Wars movies next year. If you really want to explore the Star Wars universe further, sit at home and watch a few episodes of Clone Wars or read a Timothy Zahn book or just watch the original trilogy and think about what a great story it told. Think about what ramifications the wise words of Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi have in your own life. Or, better yet, look at the places from which George Lucas once drew inspiration.
Read some Joseph Campbell.
Do a little research on the Old West.
Read The Odyssey.
Or maybe you could even write your own.
Read some Joseph Campbell.
Do a little research on the Old West.
Read The Odyssey.
Or maybe you could even write your own.
May The Force be with you.
