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rfmcdonaldWhen I got the phone call Thursday evening, I was sitting on the patio of Volo Caffè, enjoying the still-bright sunshine and a couple of beers. (First, an enjoyable Niagara Falls Gritstone, an English strong ale with 5.5% alcohol content, then an Amsterdam Framboise, a lambic-fruit beer that was a bit too sweet for my tastes despite its 6.5% alcohol content.) Drinking modestly on patios in the bright evening sunshine of late spring and summer is apparently a Torontonian tradition of note; far be it for me to disrespect local customs.
What would have been a pleasant and mildly productive evening all on its own shifted gears slightly just after eight o'clock, when![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
schizmatic phoned me up with the suggestion that I join him and larkvi for a showing of the latest Star Wars film, Revenge of the Sith. The rest of the evening was rather fun, though in a bit of an unexpected way.
Have I ever mentioned that although fiskings are fun to write the are also frustrating on so many levels?
Matthew Stover's novelization had led me to believe that the movie would be stellar. In my somewhat incoherent reaction to Attack of the Clones three years ago, I thought that I detected Lucas' construction of a compelling framework of life for his audience: this is the Republic, this is how it works, this is what it means to its citizens. Too, the story that Stover described about was authentically powerful, the occasionally purple prose aside. I was looking forward to a reasonably dignified conclusion to the Star Wars movie cycle, something to leave me feeling satisfied.
But then, reality intervened.
The quality of the acting deserves special note. All of the stars of Revenge of the Sith are reasonably good actors. Hayden Christiansen has gotten good reviews in Shattered Glass. Natalie Portman has received glowing reviews for, among other movies, Garden State. Samuel L. Jackson is a man with a well-deserved reputation. Ewan MacGregor is, well, Ewan MacGregor. And yet, under George Lucas' direction, they all become stiff mannekins. Even Yoda's dialogue was unnaturally stiff. Ian McDiarmid was the only actor to resist this trend, perhaps, as Andrew suggested today, because he is an experienced stage actor who can safely ignore a bad director's commands and emerge all the stronger for it. Watching the movie, I felt as if I was watching bears waltz at a formal ballroom dance.
The Padmé-Anakin romance is something that has always baffled me. In what ranks as a minor historical irony, I caught Attack of the Clones on the same day that I came out to my parents, and throughout the entire run of the movie I found myself wondering what was attractive about Anakin Skywalker. He sulks; he's aggressive; he's arrogant; he's approaching someone who played a maternal role in his early life; he confesses to Padmé that he exterminated an entire tribe, specifically mentioning that, yes, he killed the women and children, too. What, exactly, made Padmé interested in reciprocating Anakin's creepy desire for her? Yes, there are women who write love letters to serial killers, but Padmé never struck me as having that sort of personality.
Things got worse in Revenge of the Sith. Their romantic dialogue was risible; it's never good when a movie's audience reacts to serious lines with laughter. Likely because of Lucas' direction, I never really got a sense that they cared for each other. This is a critical failure of the movie since, after all, Anakin goes over to the dark side in order to protect his beloved wife from death. This--abandoning everything that you hold dear for the one you love, only to find that your abandonment makes you contemptible in your loved one's eyes--is a powerful theme. If it had been properly developed, the movie would have flourished accordingly. But it wasn't, like so many other items of back story (why are Anakin and Palpatine such intimate friends, again?). And so, we are left to witness as one minute Anakin professes his love for Padmé and the next he is choking her to death via the Force, wonder why we don't care that much, and mourn at the loss of dramatic potential. It takes a horrible writer to ruin such a classic theme.
The other major plot line that was sorely underdeveloped was the end of the Republic. The movie's best line was delivered by Padmé, who observed Palpatine's declaration of the First Galactic Empire in the hall of the Galactic Senate, sitting next to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan with tears in her eyes: "So, this is how liberty dies; with thunderous applause." The transition from even an ill-managed democracy to tyranny is something potentially quite moving. Lucas, as expected, completely failed to make his audience understand why Padmé was so upset, or why anyone should care, or indeed, why people shouldn't welcome Emperor Palpatine simply because a Galactic Emperor is cool.
The special effects are fantastic. The space battle above Coruscant that opened the movie briefly inspired me with an excess of hope. The movie, though, is empty of any content.schizmatic said afterwards that this movie was written like fan fiction; I'd add that it was bad fan fiction, self-indulgent and poorly edited and not at all worthwhile to read. (There is some good fan fiction out there, of course.) Andrew yesterday suggested that this movie shows Lucas to be an 11-year-old boy, fearful of girl's cooties and liking big explosions and wanting to show off real human emotions but failing badly. This makes sense.
I may be too harsh. Perhaps I should be more tolerant towards the failings of popular culture; perhaps I expect too much of Star Wars and Lucas and the vast industry of ill-composed space opera that has sprung up since 1977. I don't think that I should, though I do think that if we as consumers don't object to materials which insult our intelligence we deserve whatever we sit down to watch. With luck, the fan edits will be better. Just don't expect me to watch any of these.
What would have been a pleasant and mildly productive evening all on its own shifted gears slightly just after eight o'clock, when
schizmatic phoned me up with the suggestion that I join him and larkvi for a showing of the latest Star Wars film, Revenge of the Sith. The rest of the evening was rather fun, though in a bit of an unexpected way.Have I ever mentioned that although fiskings are fun to write the are also frustrating on so many levels?
Matthew Stover's novelization had led me to believe that the movie would be stellar. In my somewhat incoherent reaction to Attack of the Clones three years ago, I thought that I detected Lucas' construction of a compelling framework of life for his audience: this is the Republic, this is how it works, this is what it means to its citizens. Too, the story that Stover described about was authentically powerful, the occasionally purple prose aside. I was looking forward to a reasonably dignified conclusion to the Star Wars movie cycle, something to leave me feeling satisfied.
But then, reality intervened.
The quality of the acting deserves special note. All of the stars of Revenge of the Sith are reasonably good actors. Hayden Christiansen has gotten good reviews in Shattered Glass. Natalie Portman has received glowing reviews for, among other movies, Garden State. Samuel L. Jackson is a man with a well-deserved reputation. Ewan MacGregor is, well, Ewan MacGregor. And yet, under George Lucas' direction, they all become stiff mannekins. Even Yoda's dialogue was unnaturally stiff. Ian McDiarmid was the only actor to resist this trend, perhaps, as Andrew suggested today, because he is an experienced stage actor who can safely ignore a bad director's commands and emerge all the stronger for it. Watching the movie, I felt as if I was watching bears waltz at a formal ballroom dance.
The Padmé-Anakin romance is something that has always baffled me. In what ranks as a minor historical irony, I caught Attack of the Clones on the same day that I came out to my parents, and throughout the entire run of the movie I found myself wondering what was attractive about Anakin Skywalker. He sulks; he's aggressive; he's arrogant; he's approaching someone who played a maternal role in his early life; he confesses to Padmé that he exterminated an entire tribe, specifically mentioning that, yes, he killed the women and children, too. What, exactly, made Padmé interested in reciprocating Anakin's creepy desire for her? Yes, there are women who write love letters to serial killers, but Padmé never struck me as having that sort of personality.
Things got worse in Revenge of the Sith. Their romantic dialogue was risible; it's never good when a movie's audience reacts to serious lines with laughter. Likely because of Lucas' direction, I never really got a sense that they cared for each other. This is a critical failure of the movie since, after all, Anakin goes over to the dark side in order to protect his beloved wife from death. This--abandoning everything that you hold dear for the one you love, only to find that your abandonment makes you contemptible in your loved one's eyes--is a powerful theme. If it had been properly developed, the movie would have flourished accordingly. But it wasn't, like so many other items of back story (why are Anakin and Palpatine such intimate friends, again?). And so, we are left to witness as one minute Anakin professes his love for Padmé and the next he is choking her to death via the Force, wonder why we don't care that much, and mourn at the loss of dramatic potential. It takes a horrible writer to ruin such a classic theme.
The other major plot line that was sorely underdeveloped was the end of the Republic. The movie's best line was delivered by Padmé, who observed Palpatine's declaration of the First Galactic Empire in the hall of the Galactic Senate, sitting next to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan with tears in her eyes: "So, this is how liberty dies; with thunderous applause." The transition from even an ill-managed democracy to tyranny is something potentially quite moving. Lucas, as expected, completely failed to make his audience understand why Padmé was so upset, or why anyone should care, or indeed, why people shouldn't welcome Emperor Palpatine simply because a Galactic Emperor is cool.
The special effects are fantastic. The space battle above Coruscant that opened the movie briefly inspired me with an excess of hope. The movie, though, is empty of any content.
schizmatic said afterwards that this movie was written like fan fiction; I'd add that it was bad fan fiction, self-indulgent and poorly edited and not at all worthwhile to read. (There is some good fan fiction out there, of course.) Andrew yesterday suggested that this movie shows Lucas to be an 11-year-old boy, fearful of girl's cooties and liking big explosions and wanting to show off real human emotions but failing badly. This makes sense.I may be too harsh. Perhaps I should be more tolerant towards the failings of popular culture; perhaps I expect too much of Star Wars and Lucas and the vast industry of ill-composed space opera that has sprung up since 1977. I don't think that I should, though I do think that if we as consumers don't object to materials which insult our intelligence we deserve whatever we sit down to watch. With luck, the fan edits will be better. Just don't expect me to watch any of these.
