Still Empire
Lest ye think that the Scene has become baby central, let’s talk about an equally important topic: Star Wars.
At Mother Jones, Kevin Drum has a great post arguing that (audible gasps in the audience) Return of the Jedi is actually the best movie in the original trilogy. (Via Scene alum Peter Suderman )
Drum lists all of the good things that there are in Jedi, and argues that the movie wasn’t ruined by the much-reviled Ewoks because they’re only incidental to the story and are only there for a couple scenes.
I actually agree with much of Drum’s praise for Jedi, which you should definitely read, but I still reach the same conclusion as most fans: Empire is still the best movie in the trilogy.
Before I explain why, I first need to settle some scores.
Firstly, I’ve never been that pissed off about the Ewoks. It’s probably because I watched the third movie as a kid, not a teenager. Sure, they’re manipulatively cute, and they’re there to sell action figures to kids, but should they really send people into fits of conniption? Everything in Star Wars is there to sell merch (that was Lucas’ business genius): lightsabers, X-wings, Vader’s helmet, yet we adore those iconic things. Disney’s business is based on merch, and that doesn’t mean The Lion King and Toy Story aren’t great movies.
The Ewoks are also there to provide comic relief, which annoys some people, but that’s also what R2 and 3PO do, and people seem to love those fine, too.
It should be noted that the Ewoks also serve as a powerful symbol: the idea that it’s the Hidden Forces in the universe that rise up to defeat the Empire. Those small, backward furballs are dismissed by the almighty empire, but the grain of sand in the gears stops the machines. That’s something to like.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m no fan of the Ewoks. But I don’t think they’re awful either.
Secondly, I’ve always been left cold by one of the most-mooted arguments for Empire: that it’s the “darkest” episode in the trilogy. Yes. So what? Does a movie have to be “dark” to be good? Since when is that a criterion? If you’re older than 16, that shouldn’t figure in your calculations.
Ok, with all that said, and with Drum’s praise for Jedi endorsed, why is Empire still the best movie?
It’s because it’s the movie where the characters are at their most raw, and where the characters undergo the most change.
At the end of the first movie, none of the characters is radically changed. Luke reaches a huge milestone, because uses the Force, but at the end of the movie he is still an idealistic boy who wants to be a fighter for Justice and the American Way like his father. Han leans to his good side but is still a mercenary rogue at heart. Leia is still a virginal princess who cares only about abstract principle. Vader is still a complete villain.
And during the third movie, with the crucial exception of Vader, every character knows what they have to do. Luke is a world-wise Jedi with scars, literal and otherwise—he has big doubts and big problems, but he is still fundamentally the same person at the beginning of the movie and the end. Han has gone through his transformation from fundamentally selfish to fundamentally selfless, through both his love for Leia and his dedication to a greater ideal. Leia, who was fundamentally a girl in the first movie—virginal and almost fanatically principled—has become a woman, fighting for love as well as abstract ideals.
During the course of Empire, though, every character is thrown through the wringer, salt poured through the still-live scars of their conscience. And as the result they are all fundamentally changed. Luke, obviously, wracked between loyalty to his friends and his desire to train as a Jedi, between the Light Side and the Dark Side. Han and Leia also have to rethink everything: they each have to overcome their fear of love and redefine their life. Even secondary characters: Lando confronts the consequences of his cowardice, and 3PO, who was only a bumbling comic-relief fool, gains a measure of agency.
Between the beginning and the end of Empire, each character has gone through that radical transformation, for the protagonists an entry to adulthood. Luke goes from teenager to man, scars and all. Leia goes from girl to woman. Han also definitively sheds what remained fundamentally a teenage outlook—self-centered, aimlessly rebellious. Even Vader is different at the end of the movie, the seeds of doubt sown by Luke’s stunning rejection.
It’s Screenwriting 101 to say that in your movie your protagonists much reach resolution and that a movie worth watching is one where the protagonist goes through some form of resolution and even redemption. While there are elements of that in each movie (Obi-Wan, Luke in the first; Vader, crucially, in the third, and also Luke), it is in Empire that each character is thrown into the starkest relief, made to confront the biggest choices (again, with the exception of Vader), and reach the most consequential resolution.
So while I agree with all the great things Drum has to say about Jedi, the strength of the character arcs, not “darkness” or Ewoks, is why Empire is still the best movie in the trilogy.
“I’ve always been left cold by one of the most-mooted arguments for Empire: that it’s the “darkest” episode in the trilogy. Yes. So what? Does a movie have to be “dark” to be good? Since when is that a criterion? If you’re older than 16, that shouldn’t figure in your calculations.”
This is something that has bothered me since my earliest days as an art-student, and I spent about a decade of my life in a full-frontal assault on the idea that darkness = artistry. Quoting:
If my films are understood as “anti porn” I would also hope they are understood as anti-art.
As a young art student it was clear to me that nudity and sexuality in contemporary art followed a set of rules that was as easily understood as pornography’s rubric. This is especially easy to observe in “art films”; sexuality must only be present in an explicit way if it is commentary on the ambiguities, or better yet, deficiencies of the human conditions. A recent example is the movie SHORTBUS wherein unsatisfying , failed, or unhealthy sex is presented in explicit detail, pleasurable sex is presented in passing, and transformative sex goes unseen.
There is nothing wrong with exploring sexuality within this well accepted art rubric. It’s a safe way to explore sexual imagery without actually challenging any of the taken for granted notions about the right and proper way to present sex as art.
Not so with ASHLEY AND KISHA, or any of my other films. As much as my films are made with the hope of confronting the way that sex is presented in pornography and suppressed by the state, my films are made to confront the way that sex is presented in art.
In my films there is no ennui, no cynicism, no boredom or brutality, no disenfranchisement, disconnection, or disaffection. These are the proven cinematic devices used to signal “But this is art,” – devices I intentionally banish from my films. I want to create a sexual and cinematic environment devoid of the familiar landmarks found in art,and scrubbed clean of the familiar hiding places that allow people to watch lovemaking with clinical detachment.
In my films the human condition is a joyful condition. In my films human beings revel in their ability to connect with one another; physically, mentally, emotionally. In my films people know what they want and get what they want. My films are idealistic, passionate, and compassionate. In short, my films are a refutation of everything that art, and especially art films have tried to teach me about love and sex. Where art is expected to be cool and detached, my films are lush; where art is expected to be coy, my films are frank; where art is expected to celebrate pain, my films celebrate pleasure.
In the end I was unsuccessful in my efforts. I was not able to convincingly make my case, either with the films themselves, or in the mountains of explitory prose I was compelled to write in their defense. The ranks of my allies were thinned by cynicism and fear, and I lacked to the cunning and strength to for new, sustaining alliances.
But I hope, PEG, that you will see a direct line from the sentiments expressed above to the sentiments express in my post that you linked to yesterday.
— David Ryan · Mar 4, 03:33 PM · #
Probably not wrong, PEG, and I agree with the widely-held premise that Empire is the best of the three films. But Jedi has always been the one I enjoy the most, it’s the one that goes in when I want to see some Star Wars, and I think it’s because while Empire has the deepest arcs for those characters, Jedi has the deepest arc for the film as a whole.
— Chet · Mar 4, 04:16 PM · #
I agree with you about Empire, but another thing in Jedi’s favor is its scoring. No, not the awful alien disco on the sail barge (another thing that should have been left on the cutting room floor along with the half of the first Ewok scene Drum mentions), but throughout the rest of the film and especially during the climactic Luke–Vader fight. The early parts are largely plaintive repetitions of Obi–Wan’s theme, but when we move to the moment after Vader threatens to turn Leia instead where Luke finally breaks & we reach the emotional heart of the entire trilogy, Williams’s score is perfect. It is where voices finally enter the music, at this most human point at which Luke’s love (the non–Jedi emotion that redeems Vader in this film and saves his friends in the prior one) brings him dangerously close to hate. The dark gloom immediately thereafter is great as well, but I don’t think any use of music in film grips me in quite the same way as those forty or so seconds.
— Ariston · Mar 5, 09:52 AM · #
I just want to thank y’all for leaving excellent comments (especially David). Maybe the key to having good comments around here is to stray clear of politics?
— PEG · Mar 5, 03:24 PM · #
Well, there’s your lesson: only say things we all already agree with.
— Chet · Mar 5, 10:18 PM · #
I don’t get it. Episode IV: A New Hope is so obviously the only good thing in the series. It’s a classic take of the farmboy with dreams and pluck who makes good. Every good idea Lucas ever was put into that movie because he didn’t think he’d get a chance to do another.
The only reason he could do a movie (Episode V) where the characters supposedly develop is because the characters were so clearly drawn in the first movie. But Ep V turns Luke into a sexless drone. In IV it was so interesting to watch Luke and Han sort of compete for Leia attention. As early as Ep V, Lucas was already draining the life out of his characters with a pointlessly complex plot.
As for Ep VI? Gimme a break. The entire movie demonstrates that Lucas has run out of ideas. Luke started out on a Desert planet, and the Snow Planet, Hoth was a big hit. Lets do a Jungle planet! He redoes the Cabana scene with Muppets (not an improvement). Oops! We need something we can sell as dolls….let’s put teddy bears in the movie.
See the following link which uses Episode I to demonstrate why Episode IV was so good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FxKtZmQgxrI
— James · Mar 6, 04:52 AM · #
Oh yeah, and in Ep. VI he even brought back the Death Star (and had a mini mobile Death Star/Clone army in Ep. I. Lucas was running out of ideas in Ep V. By Ep VI, he was bone dry.
— James · Mar 6, 05:33 AM · #