Sithly Rambles, or Why Dialogue Matters
Fast ramble about The Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars in general.
Behind the cut, spoilers for the most unspoilable movie ever...
To start with, I defy anyone who says that Star Wars is simplistic--or even simple. There’s philosophical complexity throughout the whole saga, and the prequels may well have more of it than the originals. Unfortunately, they also have a lot less in the way of scripting.
In fact, the prequels--particularly the last two--are, in essence, pretty storyboards for a good idea still waiting for a script. whitebird said to me that the a lot of the scenes in RotS played like summaries, and I couldn’t put it better. Ex. Here is the scene where Obi-Wan tells Padme that Anakin has turned to the Dark Side, and Padme doesn’t believe him, but Obi-Wan assures her it’s true. Put that in direct discourse and it’s almost the script, something like: “Anakin has turned to the Dark Side”; “I don’t believe you,” etc. (I exaggerate, but not a lot.) There’s no attempt to turn it into a realistic conversation between characters.
A long time ago in an epoch before The Phantom Menace, Lucas remarked that a neat thing about Star Wars was that you didn’t have to understand the dialogue to get the story. People who don’t speak English could watch it in English and still understand and enjoy it. To an extent I believe that, but right there, Lucas sums up where he dropped the ball on the prequels.
Words, in fact, do matter--because complex ideas, especially in a dramatic medium, must most often be built out of conversation: Luke asks Ben what the Force is, thus giving Ben a chance to explain it, etc.
The ideas in the prequels get lost at the point where the necessary pieces of conversation never take place. For example, did Padme really not believe that Anakin could turn to the Dark Side until she saw it with her own eyes, or did she deep-down already know he was in trouble? We’re not given enough script to judge clearly. But this point is crucial not only to determining whether or not her character has turned into an idiot but also to interpreting her symbolic role as “senator,” as a representative of the falling democratic Republic. Or when Anakin says his infamous line about being “for me or against me” and Obi-Wan tells him not to deal in absolutes and immediately (end of conversation) draws his lightsaber, “absolutely” certain that there’s nothing for it but to kill off his padawan, is this supposed to be ironic, or is it just really bad writing? Without a few more lines of dialogue, there’s no way to tell.
And, needless to say, the story loses its power with the loss of the dynamic characters that could have been conveyed by a genuine script. Think of the nuances that could have been brought out in the post-Vader interactions of Padme and Obi-Wan, united in their common grief (and guilt). Just a couple of more lines would have done it--but we never get beyond bare minimum.
All this is a damn shame because the story itself is actually trying to say subtle and complex things. Perhaps my favorite thing about the prequels as a whole is the sharing of responsibility among good people for the fall of the Republic. Qui Gon, when he goes all adamant about training Anakin, is probably wrong. (And bless RotS for casting doubt on all that “Chosen One” stuff, because--to my mind--even if we say Anakin was the Chosen One because he does kill the Emperor in the end, that still doesn’t justify training a kid who shouldn’t have been trained. Prophecy is a poor standard for that sort of action. Your view may vary, which is a sign of the philosophical complexity of this story.) For now, just let me posit that Qui Gon was probably wrong. So, then, were all the Jedi who went along with him, even Yoda. Jar Jar (dear Jar Jar) was obviously wrong to vote big powers to Palpatine. Mace Windu (I believe) was wrong to want the Jedi to go over the head of the senate to force Palpatine’s resignation. Padme (so canny professionally, so inept personally) was wrong not to immediately report Anakin’s slaughter of the Tuskans to the Jedi and get the boy into some serious therapy. Obi-Wan was wrong not to give him more positive reinforcement for actually doing good Jedi things when he was a youngster, etc., etc.
This is profound admonition to all of us “good people” to inspect our actions without complacency. Qui Gon was a good man--a great man--but he set in motion events that would bring down his own Jedi order. So might we all.
This is just one of numerous intriguing questions this offers. Other include: how do you seek “balance” in a Force one half of which is “evil” and to be avoided? Are the Jedi right to eschew all attachment? What does it mean to have the Force “choose” something/one? Are the cycles of Dark-Side-ascendance inevitable? And if so, how is one supposed to cope? If the Force clouds the judgment of the Jedi, what does this say about free will?
Yes, there really is an intriguing story lurking in there. Sadly, it was never brought to completion on-screen. Like Ivan Karamazov’s “Grand Inquisitor,” it’s an idea for a poem without the poem. But in this case, it’s the poem that would have made great narrative. Without that, we’re left with a very pretty pastiche of ideas that faithful fans can seize and elaborate if they care to take the time. But the one who should have taken the time is Lucas.
Behind the cut, spoilers for the most unspoilable movie ever...
To start with, I defy anyone who says that Star Wars is simplistic--or even simple. There’s philosophical complexity throughout the whole saga, and the prequels may well have more of it than the originals. Unfortunately, they also have a lot less in the way of scripting.
In fact, the prequels--particularly the last two--are, in essence, pretty storyboards for a good idea still waiting for a script. whitebird said to me that the a lot of the scenes in RotS played like summaries, and I couldn’t put it better. Ex. Here is the scene where Obi-Wan tells Padme that Anakin has turned to the Dark Side, and Padme doesn’t believe him, but Obi-Wan assures her it’s true. Put that in direct discourse and it’s almost the script, something like: “Anakin has turned to the Dark Side”; “I don’t believe you,” etc. (I exaggerate, but not a lot.) There’s no attempt to turn it into a realistic conversation between characters.
A long time ago in an epoch before The Phantom Menace, Lucas remarked that a neat thing about Star Wars was that you didn’t have to understand the dialogue to get the story. People who don’t speak English could watch it in English and still understand and enjoy it. To an extent I believe that, but right there, Lucas sums up where he dropped the ball on the prequels.
Words, in fact, do matter--because complex ideas, especially in a dramatic medium, must most often be built out of conversation: Luke asks Ben what the Force is, thus giving Ben a chance to explain it, etc.
The ideas in the prequels get lost at the point where the necessary pieces of conversation never take place. For example, did Padme really not believe that Anakin could turn to the Dark Side until she saw it with her own eyes, or did she deep-down already know he was in trouble? We’re not given enough script to judge clearly. But this point is crucial not only to determining whether or not her character has turned into an idiot but also to interpreting her symbolic role as “senator,” as a representative of the falling democratic Republic. Or when Anakin says his infamous line about being “for me or against me” and Obi-Wan tells him not to deal in absolutes and immediately (end of conversation) draws his lightsaber, “absolutely” certain that there’s nothing for it but to kill off his padawan, is this supposed to be ironic, or is it just really bad writing? Without a few more lines of dialogue, there’s no way to tell.
And, needless to say, the story loses its power with the loss of the dynamic characters that could have been conveyed by a genuine script. Think of the nuances that could have been brought out in the post-Vader interactions of Padme and Obi-Wan, united in their common grief (and guilt). Just a couple of more lines would have done it--but we never get beyond bare minimum.
All this is a damn shame because the story itself is actually trying to say subtle and complex things. Perhaps my favorite thing about the prequels as a whole is the sharing of responsibility among good people for the fall of the Republic. Qui Gon, when he goes all adamant about training Anakin, is probably wrong. (And bless RotS for casting doubt on all that “Chosen One” stuff, because--to my mind--even if we say Anakin was the Chosen One because he does kill the Emperor in the end, that still doesn’t justify training a kid who shouldn’t have been trained. Prophecy is a poor standard for that sort of action. Your view may vary, which is a sign of the philosophical complexity of this story.) For now, just let me posit that Qui Gon was probably wrong. So, then, were all the Jedi who went along with him, even Yoda. Jar Jar (dear Jar Jar) was obviously wrong to vote big powers to Palpatine. Mace Windu (I believe) was wrong to want the Jedi to go over the head of the senate to force Palpatine’s resignation. Padme (so canny professionally, so inept personally) was wrong not to immediately report Anakin’s slaughter of the Tuskans to the Jedi and get the boy into some serious therapy. Obi-Wan was wrong not to give him more positive reinforcement for actually doing good Jedi things when he was a youngster, etc., etc.
This is profound admonition to all of us “good people” to inspect our actions without complacency. Qui Gon was a good man--a great man--but he set in motion events that would bring down his own Jedi order. So might we all.
This is just one of numerous intriguing questions this offers. Other include: how do you seek “balance” in a Force one half of which is “evil” and to be avoided? Are the Jedi right to eschew all attachment? What does it mean to have the Force “choose” something/one? Are the cycles of Dark-Side-ascendance inevitable? And if so, how is one supposed to cope? If the Force clouds the judgment of the Jedi, what does this say about free will?
Yes, there really is an intriguing story lurking in there. Sadly, it was never brought to completion on-screen. Like Ivan Karamazov’s “Grand Inquisitor,” it’s an idea for a poem without the poem. But in this case, it’s the poem that would have made great narrative. Without that, we’re left with a very pretty pastiche of ideas that faithful fans can seize and elaborate if they care to take the time. But the one who should have taken the time is Lucas.