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"Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith,"
directed by George Lucas. Twentieth Century Fox, 2005, 146 minutes.
Untying Loose Ends by Jo Ann Skousen
"No one mourns the wicked" is a recurrent motif in the
popular Broadway musical "Wicked," which tells the backstory of the Wicked Witch
of the West from "The Wizard of Oz." The lyric is deliberately ironic, however;
by the story's end, everyone in the audience mourns this "wicked," feeling
tremendous sorrow for the fallen protagonist. In describing the essence of
tragedy, Aristotle wrote, "The finest kind of tragedy should be complex and not
simple . . . a representation of terrible and piteous events . . . inspiring
either pity or fear, but not revulsion." The tragic hero "does not fall into
misfortune through vice or depravity, but falls because of some great mistake."
Usually that mistake is associated with a choice, or a series of choices, so that
the viewer or reader continually mourns: "If only!" One of the greatest fallen
villains of Western literature is Satan; it has been written that he was "an
angel of God who was in authority in the presence of God, who rebelled . . . and
the heavens wept over him — he was Lucifer, a son of the morning . . . and
lo, he is fallen! Is fallen, even a son of the morning!"
| | Jo Ann
Skousen is a writer and critic living in New York.
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Darth Vader is such a villain, a great Jedi knight who "was in authority" but
fell to the dark side for reasons that creator George Lucas promised to explain
in Episodes I–III. Fans of the original "Star Wars" trilogy (which comprised
Episodes IV–VI) have flocked to the prequels to learn what great mistake or
event could have caused Anakin Skywalker, the chosen Jedi Knight, to fall and
become the pre-eminent villain of the universe. "Episode III: Revenge of the
Sith," though nowhere near as entertaining or compelling as the original "Star
Wars" trilogy, is the best of the prequel episodes, light years ahead of "The
Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones," with fabulous special effects, no
interminable Senate debates, and no annoying Jar-Jar Binks characters.
Besides bringing space operas to mainstream Hollywood, Lucas' most enduring
contribution to film is his special effects studio, Industrial Light & Magic, and
that's what continues to shine. As a stand-alone film, I might give this movie a
couple of thumbs up, despite the wooden acting and cheesy dialogue, simply for
its spectacular special effects. But as a prequel, Episode III introduces more
questions than it resolves. And I allow Lucas no excuses — he's had over six
hours to tie up the loose ends, for heaven's sake! |
| I allow Lucas no excuses
— he's had over six hours to tie up the loose ends, for heaven's sake!
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Lucas seems stuck between needing to explain the fall of his hero and wanting
his villain to be heroic. This conflict produces not the greatest villain of the
20th century, but a mealy, angst-driven, lovesick half-villain. Yes, Lucas makes
half-hearted attempts to fill in the blanks toward the end (Anakin was seduced by
the lust for power; it was too late for him to turn back once he realized what he
had done; it appeared that his wife Padme had betrayed him). Any of these events
could have created believable motivations, if they had occurred while he was
actually making his choice. But these events and comments all occur after his
conversion, not before, ratifying his choice but not explaining it. In a true
tragedy, just the opposite should occur; after the decision is irrevocably made,
the hero learns the truth of his mistake, and either regrets his fall (Othello,
Oedipus) or wallows in bitterness (Satan, Vader). We needed to see either
a tragic misunderstanding or genuine bitterness as motivation for Anakin's turn
to the dark side — some dramatic angst as he falls. Someone with so much
goodness (as Young Anakin showed in the first two prequels) would have to have
experienced a true abandonment or betrayal in order to change that much; he must
either mistakenly believe that the Jedi have become enemies of the good side, or
he must believe that he has been betrayed. But Lucas wants us to believe that a
bad dream is enough motivation for Anakin to turn toward the dark side. And a
dream about a natural occurrence, at that! (After all, no one causes death in
childbirth.) In the end, if he should feel bitter towards anyone, it's the evil
emperor, Chancellor Pal-patine, who doesn't keep his promise to resuscitate
Padme. But Anakin remains true to the chancellor who has betrayed him. Utterly
inexplicable. To Lucas' credit, he includes some classic science fiction
themes in this episode: peace is more than the absence of war; security must not
be purchased at the price of liberty; power corrupts; freedom is worth fighting
for. If he had remained true to his original plan for Vader's backstory, he
probably would have produced a satisfying end to the "Star Wars" saga. But in his
zeal to fit in with Hollywood's political mindset, Lucas seems to have abandoned
his original timeless plan by making overt allusions to present-day politics. He
equates Chancellor Palpatine with George Bush when the Jedis complain, "He was
appointed, not elected," "We're in a war based on his lies," and "He controls the
courts and the Senate." He also presents a military made up of clones who blindly
obey the Chancellor's inhumane "Order 66" — a not-so-subtle allusion to
666, the mark of the Beast. This may cause cynical cheers among Bush-hating
audiences today, but such timeliness weakens the plot overall. Perhaps because
George Bush is associated with the religious right, Lucas chooses to associate
the Chancellor and Darth Vader with the Christ figure, an archetype of the good
side in science fiction. They utter such lines as "Only the Sith believe in
absolutes," "You must have faith," and "One Sith discovered the power to return
from the dead." Chancellor Palpatine even lays his hands on Anakin's forehead in
imitation of priestly healing. The allusions become eerily convoluted and depart
from traditional science fiction prototypes.
| Astonishing special
effects are nice, but what makes a great movie is a powerful script with
believable characters portrayed convincingly. |
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Astonishing special effects are nice, but what makes a great movie is a
powerful script with believable, three-dimensional characters portrayed
convincingly. These have been sadly lacking throughout the prequel trilogy,
including this episode. Okay, it's made over $300 million at the box office
already, and I've seen it twice, so it's not bad. But still, Lucas manages to
turn fine actors into wooden mannequins mouthing simplistic dialogue. Ewan
McGregor (Obi-Wan) works overtime at his Alec Guinness impression; Ian McDiarmid
(Pal-patine) seems to be channeling Monty Burns from "The Simpsons"; Samuel L.
Jackson (Windu) sounds like he's reading from cue cards; Yoda can't get his
grammar straight (how hard is it to be consistent in putting the verbs last?);
Hayden Christensen (Anakin) smolders without passion; and Natalie Portman (Padme)
makes me want to shake her every time she sighs "Oh Annie!" or suggests "Let's go
to Naboo and fix up the baby's room!" As a Star Wars fan for nearly 30 years, I
missed the unexpected plot twists, the camaraderie between Luke Skywalker and Han
Solo, and the never-ending adventures of the original trilogy. And I felt cheated
by the lack of closure in what was supposed to be the explanatory episode.
I still want to know: How does Leia know about Obi-Wan at the beginning of the
original "Star Wars," but not about Luke? How does Leia became a freedom fighter,
and how can she remember her "real mother" in Episode VI? If Obi-Wan is hiding
Luke, a la Sleeping Beauty, why doesn't he change Luke's name to something
besides Skywalker — or at least let everyone think that Luke is Owen's son
instead of his nephew? Why doesn't Darth Vader find his son? What does Owen know
about his brother Anakin, anyway, and why didn't we see anything about Owen in
Episode I ("The Phantom Menace")? How did Chewbacca go from being Yoda's
protector to being a bandit's sidekick, and why doesn't he recognize C-3PO when
they get together in Episode IV (the original "Star Wars")? Shouldn't Chewie be
more noble in Episode IV, given his heroic role in Episode III, instead of always
seeming to be afraid? What was Han Solo's backstory, anyway? He was the true star
of the original "Star Wars," and the one I miss the most. Perhaps these
questions could be answered in Episode III I/II, (heaven help us!) but frankly, I
don't think Lucas should be the one to write it or direct it. "No one mourns the
wicked," but we do mourn the wasted opportunity.
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