'Round and 'round and back where you began...
Okay. It's official. Episode III is going to make me cry.
I say this because the ninth webdoc is FINALLY up on the official site, and I got a bit emotional just watching that. It's about C-3PO. ("He starts out as a droid. He ends up as a droid. He leads a very unhappy droid life in between." -GL) And Anthony Daniels is the only actor, aside from Kenny Baker, who's been there the whole time, and he's actually present a lot more than Kenny. He, like me, is beginning to see how it all comes together, and it's powerful. Whenever he talks about this topic he, like me, draws a little circle in the air. Because that's what it is-- a circle. And for Threepio, it all ends exactly where it begins. The corridor of the Tantive IV blockade runner. So, you see what I mean? A circle.
The thing about this saga is that it chronicles, on a large scale, the rise and fall of the Empire. On a smaller, more intimate scale, it is the story of the Skywalker family. On a sort of ethereal level, it is the story of bringing balance to the Force and, in the end, balance is brought back. It's a circle. I've always seen it like that, and that's what got me interested in this story in the first place. It wasn't how stuff blows up so coolly with impressive special effects and CGI. The first time I saw the original trilogy, I was hard pressed to stay focused and pay attention to the movies. It wasn't until I saw Episode II that I got into it. I've always said that somehow, in that theater, something clicked, and I went, "Ohhhh, NOW I get it!" For a long time I wasn't sure exactly what it was that changed, that clicked inside my head-- whether it was the bigness of the screen, or what. Later, I figured it out. I saw the story. I saw beyond the stuff blowing up and realized how deeply moving this story can be, when you really take a second to look at it. I saw it as one big saga, George's twelve-hour movie. I was beginning to see how it all comes together. I envisioned it as a circle, with one piece missing-- a hole that will be filled this May. I'd like to borrow from John Steinbeck, writing about Arthurian legend:
"Somewhere there's a piece missing in the jigsaw and it is a piece which ties the whole thing together. ... All such things fall into place inevitably but it is the connective-- the continuing line with the piece missing in the middle-- that fascinates me."
I became fascinated with that missiing bit of the circle. That was how it all started. I certainly didn't see it coming, but there you have it. And the missing piece is filling in more and more. The more I learn, though, the more fascinated I become. Because as much as this story is set in space (well, if it wasn't it would just be called "Wars"), a long time ago in a galaxy far away (which really just means "Once upon a time," you know), it is a story about people. And people are people, no matter where they live or, in this case, what they happen to be shaped like. There are archetypes galore lurking in this galaxy, and bits of myth and legend and history, too. Everyone must find something to connect to.
This, by the way, is why fantasy is genius: it takes real things, real problems and issues, and makes a statement about them using neutral settings and people. People who say fantasy is irrelevant are full of crap and don't know what they're talking about. Fantasy is quite possibly more socially relevant than any other type of literature today.
The piece-- the motif of history being showcased in Revenge of the Sith is the Fall. The fall of the Republic. The fall of the Jedi. The fall to the dark side. It happens-- the grand old orders have collapsed and so will ours someday, and evil exists. And in this movie, just as in real life, it is the innocent who suffer. This is what really upsets me. It is Padmé and the Jedi who suffer, and all they ever strove for was the good. In the novelization of A New Hope, Obi-Wan tells Luke that sometimes he thinks the Jedi were too good, too trusting for their own good. That goes for Padmé as well, I think. Amidala is, as a symbol, absolute purity and good. The Jedi children are innocents. Palpatine has always seen these things as flaws to be exploited. I will freely admit, and even rant, that hubris killed the Jedi Order. The Republic, too. But remember when Luke told Palpatine that his overconfidence was his weakness (it's true; hubris killed the Empire, as well)? Palpatine answered, "Your faith in your friends is yours." This is how that man thinks-- love of and belief in someone or something are weaknesses that can lead to downfall. This is why the good die in Ep. III. And when I think about this, it makes me quite upset. (Maybe it's easier to be upset about a fictional example than about what's really happening all around? Maybe it's easier to see?) I get very angry. I hate to sound childish and Skywalkeresque, but I feel the need to state, "It's not fair!" It's just not fair.
I hate Palpatine. Vader I can feel sorry for, but Palpatine I hate. Palpatine is evil. And I know that he must have had a history, too, just like AniVader. He probably wasn't always like that. But somehow I don't care. Real evil, I think, is when you can sit down and plan it all out. Manipulation and patience and cunning, and then finally drawing in the web so that no one can escape. We talked about this in Lyceum junior year, in relation to Iago in "Othello." He does much the same thing. On the Discworld, Granny Weatherwax makes a statement which I have come to agree with: All sin begins with treating people like things. Palpatine certainly does this-- every one is a tool he can use or something to be disposed of. He is a prime example of evil.
This entry is turning out much longer than I planned it to be, though I've just barely touched on a lot of things I could go into a lot more detail about. But I want to return to that webdoc. There is a very short clip, with dear Anthony Daniels talking over it, about how he fell down during this scene. And this is what I saw before he fell over: Obi-Wan turns away from C-3PO, looking deeply troubled and emotionally pained. Padmé comes rushing into the room, straight to Obi-Wan, and they embrace (as friends!). There is a desperation in her face, and fear. But a grace, still, always that certain grace. She is glad to see him. She looks a second away from tears. Obi-Wan looks not much better, but he's trying to be strong for her. She starts to speak. Then there is a crash, because Tony has fallen over. But that moment, when they come to each other with those looks-- it tugged at my heart. He's come to tell her about what's happened to Anakin. And the emotion I got just from looking at that scene-- with the bluescreen not filled in and no sound-- made me melt a little. And then Tony started talking about all Threepio's been through, and ending where he began. One of the very last scenes of Episode III is the very first scene of Episode IV. And that melted me even more. I love the idea of ending where you began, even though technically it's just a bridge to the OT, and the ultimate end is not the same place as the ultimate beginning. Still, it's a circle. So, in a way...