A Star Wars Retrospective
Lord of the Rings may be my favorite escapist story ever put to screen, but the cinematic saga that I most love in spite of itself is Star Wars.
…Well, the first six movies—the Geoge Lucas Era.
I spent the beginning of last week revisiting this saga in episode order—as opposed to release order, aiming to watch Disney’s Sequel Trilogy too. Alas, after Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) started with surprising nostalgia for the hype period leading up to its release, I only made it thirty-five minutes in before the feelings of how its whole trilogy cheapens its whole preceding saga sank in.
Of course, the Prequel Trilogy too has always had dissenters, but it’s the Star Wars of my childhood just as much as the Original Trilogy is. Those of us who grew up with the Prequels are becoming a more dominant voice in their discussion, and there will be generations who will accept the Sequels the same way.
But I also think the Prequels tell a genuinely compelling story on paper, just with a mess of an execution; they also have some the most stunning spectacle and production design of the saga as well as its most operatic musical scores, and they build the Star Wars worlds I'd most want to visit. The Sequels have better acting and dialogue, but the stories they tell underneath their surface competence...
The Originals and Prequels also have a consistent throughline as the fall of Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker—the Chosen One prophesized to bring balance to the Force—and the redemption from his Sith lord alter ego Darth Vader, with one trilogy led by Anakin and the other led by his son Luke, so the Sequels don't feel apiece with these trilogies when their lead is not Luke's offspring, or rather, when they don’t decide that she is Luke’s adopted offspring until their last scene.
On the other hand, one of the many quirks of the Prequels is how the saga's first functional protagonist is not Anakin but his would-be mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn. Although I love Qui-Gon, Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999)'s lack of an everyman to experience its worlds and learn about the Force through unlike the Originals makes it work more as an extended flashback than as a true intro.
Of course, of the many elephants in the room while talking about this movie, the biggest one is the infamous Jar Jar Binks. And you know what? He’s hilarious, if in a more of a “laughing at it” way than a “laughing with it” way.
It's probably because I first saw this at young enough an age for me to tolerate such obnoxiousness now, but his antics don't go too far for me until the third act, where he's not given any chance to truly prove himself a hero, just a series of happy accidents. Qui-Gon getting annoyed with Jar Jar is one reason why Qui-Gon compells me, as are his differing ways that embody how a true Jedi should be.
That third act also features the Duel of the Fates, one of the best choreographed and scored lightsaber battles. Dave Filoni—George Lucas's protégé since the 2008 Clone Wars series that really shows how good the Prequels could have been—also explained beautifully how this duel's outcome set the whole saga in motion, whether it would result in Anakin being raised by Qui-Gon like the father he needs or trained by Obi-Wan who only sees him as a fellow Jedi.
The Phantom Menace would definitely be most appreciated by those who grew up with it, but it still endears me, in both genuine and ironic ways. Plus, it doesn’t have romance, which George proved later is his outright weakest point.
Speaking of which, in Episode II: Attack of the Clones (2002)… Oh boy.
This story should have been about Anakin learning to become a hero to make his fall in Revenge of the Sith more impactful. Instead, he’s a petulant manchild, and what’s worse is that he acts that way in front of his queen-turned-senator love interest Padme Amidala—even confesses to her that he vengefully murdered an entire village, and she still “truly, deeply” falls in love with him!
That’s inexcusable writing—especially shocking for how this is the only Prequel where George had a co-writer, and paired with the story’s overall sluggish pace, this is the Star Wars movie that still feels the most like an obligation to sit through, just to get the connective tissue between two movies I do like.
That leads me to the Star Wars movie I most enjoy in spite of itself, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005). This is where I really feel that the trilogy tells such a compelling story on paper that I can roll with the often awkward acting, corny dialogue, and inconsistent character development in its execution. It has both the saga’s funnest first twenty minutes and the saga’s saddest last twenty minutes.
This viewing, too, I was able to sympathize with Anakin more than most viewings, not to his choice of turning to the Dark Side but to his inner turmoil and the ways it's taken advantage of for him to get there. He and Padme even have a couple of genuinely effective scenes together, and Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan and Ian McDiarmid as Palpatine are able to sell almost every line they're given.
I can't agree with this generation's take that this is the best Star Wars movie, or even some misunderstood masterpiece in general, but with its spectacle, its production design, and its musical score that sells it all in a way that its writing and direction don’t, I can't argue against it being the coolest Star Wars movie.
What I do think is still the best star war is the first star war ever put to film—later subtitled Episode IV: A New Hope (1977). I’ve already talked about this one in my top ten movies list, but I will say here that it introduces my favorite fictional universe beautifully. The Prequels get so seeped into politics that aspects of them still go over my head; from here on, it’s straight-up adventure—straight-up good versus evil between the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire (and I’ve ended up checking out of my latest attempted viewings of the spinoff Rogue One partly because of how it compromises such an idealistic symbol of goodness).
Plus, A New Hope features only the subtlest of romance (albeit between two characters who along with George himself would later learn that they’re twins…), which allows George to write to his strengths as the sole author of the franchise’s first entry before he only contributed to the stories of the rest of the trilogy.
As far as the movies go, A New Hope and the equally great Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980) stand alone in their greatness. Every other Star Wars movie stands in their shadows, and these entires wouldn’t be matched or even surpassed on film until the best of the 2008 Clone Wars series (and I specify ‘the best’ of that series because that series also has a lot of lame stuff to sift through).
Really, what prevents Empire from being my favorite Star Wars movie is its structure as a cliffhanging middle chapter. Otherwise, it has my favorite exchange in the whole franchise ("I don't believe it!" / "That is why you fail..."); my favorite use of the always beautiful “The Force” theme (during a desperate climactic moment); and the saga’s most vicious, strategic, and atmospheric lightsaber battle.
It’s also funny to think that the ever-iconic revelation that this battle leads to was a last-minute addition—a last-minute addition that defined what the Prequels would be about and how Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983) would conclude.
Alas, while Return of the Jedi is better crafted than any of the Prequels, it actively disappoints me while watching it more than any of the first six movies do.
The Empire are no longer seeking out the Rebels; they’re just sitting around the entire movie waiting for the Rebels to fall into their trap, which allows the heroes to go on detour after detour, which feels anticlimactic after the momentum of the previous entries of this trilogy, and for the final film in a multi-generational saga.
One of these detours takes up the entire first act, and it puts Princess Leia in an outfit that I’d argue did more damage to society than any discourse the Prequels and Sequels have caused. More egregious pacing-wise is the middle act halting for shenanigans with the cutesy Ewoks; it could have kept the tension up if imperials followed the heroes as they get captured by the Ewoks, the heroes fought the imperials off, and that’s what convinced the Ewoks to fight with the Rebels.
What redeem the film are not only the overall excitement of the final act but also, quite fittingly, how it redeems Darth Vader—how it brings peace to a troubled man who was never able to find it until his own son was finally able to bring the good out of him. I even like the Special Edition’s ending more than the theatrical cut’s, showing the whole galaxy celebrating and rescoring the final musical piece to the far more dignified “Victory Celebration” over the “Yub Nub” song.
It’s still disappointing that the final film in the quintessential cinematic mythology—in how it was put straight to screen unlike the adapted Lord of the Rings—is merely good enough, but it’s really satisfying where it counts.
And perhaps that’s what really makes Star Wars special: its ideas are so mythical that its stories still resonate regardless of their dramatic execution.
I may think the Sequels do a disservice to the mythology that George Lucas built in his own endearingly off-kilter way, but there are many who feel the Prequels did the same to the Originals, and I suppose I can’t argue against that. The one Star Wars trilogy whose quality is universally agreed upon is the Original.
As indicated before, Star Wars has also been put to screen with genuine quality through TV and streaming series like The Clone Wars and The Mandalorian, but even if we didn’t have those, these first six movies would still have a special place in my heart—even, in only the most specific of ways, Attack of the Clones.