So I was watching this interview with George Lucas, and scrolling through the youtube comments section. There, I found this over-the-top hateful statement that, on the whole, promoted an attitude that I figured nobody would benefit from. Discussions likethis are fascinating. Unfortunately, they get lost in the Youtube comments section, and it's very hard to dig them up after a while, so for the sake of posterity, I decided to preserve these points on this blog.
All the people in these comments acting like the prequels weren't the EPITOME of what he is criticising in this video are hilarious. It's rare to meet people as stupid as prequel defenders.Sadly, I realize that my response to this was a bit long, but I'm perhaps get carried away with my ENTP tendencies toward debate:
Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with liking them. I wish I could like them. Liking things is awesome. But if you try to argue they're good films, you know absolutely nothing about storytelling or film-making.
I've found no discernable difference between the intellects of either the defenders or the critics (considering that many of the people who have defended Episodes I-III that I have talked to are incredibly intelligent people). The way I see it, A New Hope was a far-out, hokey, pulpy tribute to Flash Gordon and adventure serials, and every Star Wars film ever since (up until this last one) has shared that exact same vision, and yet all of this pulpiness ultimately comes together to form a very ambitious and meaningful overarching story about a slave that became a hero, then a villain, and ultimately a self-sacrificing father. I happen to have grown up with incredibly pulpy stuff, so I see where the inspiration for Star Wars comes from, and none of George Lucas' movies stray from that point. It was amazing to me that he could take such a weird vision from such an obscure nostalgia and make something so meaningful that's so heavy with themes applicable to real life. When you look at the saga as a whole, it really does stand up.
Unfortunately, I think that a lot of people remember the early films for something other than what they actually were, so when I-III come along and complete the story in a similar style (but different, because it's telling a different portion of the saga), people say that it's terrible because for them, the original experience couldn't be recreated. A lot of people like them, though, because they're a fantastic opera with a big story to tell, one that one that truly looks at the big picture more than almost any blockbuster. And what the first half of the saga contributes to the overall picture is invaluable.His response:
I'm a guy who likes to have my mind provoked. I look at the saga as a whole and am still surprised by how many layers of depth it has.
But anyway, the point is that I really disagree with your statement that they're objectively bad movies, because they definitely succeeded in what they were intended to do: pay tribute to nonsensical and tacky adventure serials while also telling an important story for anyone who wants to find deeper meaning. If you wanted something else out of them, then were bad in your subjective experience. They were bad if you were comparing them to contemporary American films that follow certain cultural expectations of "good art." But then you look at where George Lucas took his inspiration from, and it's rarely ever contemporary film. He looked at adventure serials, Kabuki, foreign films, circus acts, and so forth, where style and standards for storytelling are so very different. I happened to be looking for those things, and was very pleased to have got them consistently throughout the saga.
I guess you can say that these films are evil...from a certain point of view. But then we're really entering into the realm of the subjective, aren't we? Isn't it a bit ridiculous to try and claim that a movie is objectively good or bad? Isn't one of the first things we're taught in school that whether or not we think a piece of art is good ultimately comes down to subjective opinion and isn't a fact? I also think that it's a bit mean-spirited and against the good attitude of Star Wars to claim that people who think that in fact all of the Star Wars movies were good are "stupid." One of the first things that I learned about storytelling and film-making is that it's very subjective.
People don't spend their lives studying the craft of storytelling and film-making and learn absolutely nothing. Obviously. There are incredibly well regarded books out there on the study of prose that contribute to the medium. The statement that we can know no objectivity in storytelling is naive and INSULTING to any creator.And my final response. With all those point out there, I realize that it would be a shame to lose this post to obscurity, especially if I realize that I would love to return to some of these point in a potential essay:
There will always be subjectivity in art, but both in the creation and the critiquing of art there is a pursuit of objectivity. There has been for thousands of years.
If you think the prequels are good films, you do not understand storytelling. If you think I'm an asshole for saying that, fine, believe what you want. But you're utterly wrong. That isn't me being up myself, it's me stating the blatantly obvious.
Take the Phantom Menace - not even the worst of the prequels. It doesn't even have an arc. It's a high fantasy character journey with no arc. That is laughably stupid. The closest thing you get to an arc is Naboo's invasion and eventual liberation, but that is rarely the focus of the film and there is never an attempt to illicit empathetic emotions in the audience (except for the distress call where 'the death toll is catastrophic').
It's such absurdly bad storytelling it is almost a struggle to put it into words. That is why I am so critical of prequel defenders. It's more than delusion, it practically demonstrates and inherent ability to not understand the art or craft of film-making.
And just to be clear, no, this is NOT insulting your opinion. If you like it, that's GREAT. Everyone has a right to like whatever they want, no matter how bad it is. THAT is an opinion. But how good the prequels are is a matter of objective debate (or at least an ATTEMPT at objective debate). It is NOT just a pure opinion.
Art is subjective, although we can have objective goals in our art, and use art to convey objective ideas. Art itself, however, is subjective. I've worked with many film students and art students, and most of them agree that there are objective things in life, but in so many ways art is not one of them. The consensus isn't universal, but overall we have all tended to acknowledge that while art is a great passion of ours, it's still mostly subjective.
I understand that there is objectivity involved, and Episodes I-III accomplished what they were made to be. George Lucas was looking at some very unconventional standards for storytelling when he conceived Star Wars. Like I said, there was Flash Gordon, but I also saw the elements of a circus act. I know that this term, "circus act," has come to have certain derogatory implications, but I've seem some amazing circus acts before, and I quite like that at times Star Wars felt like on. There are also mediums of entertainment that don't follow out typical standards for "storytelling." Take, for example, a street parade, which is more about an experience and a spectacle. I always felt that this was what Episode I was trying to emulate, which makes sense, because Star Wars is just as much about spectacle as it is about story, and there's nothing wrong with that. You listen to the opening music and it becomes quite evident that at some point there has to be a film that's thematically a fanfare, just like the music, and that's what Episode I is
Episode II, likewise, does an amazingly good job of being a simple adventure with gladiatorial fights, swashbuckling sword fights, and intrigue. In some ways, it's the best out of all the Star Wars films at being a simple adventure serial with deeper themes hidden within.He responded back again, and I'm not really sure what to make of this. At this point, I'm being talked down on, and it's disheartening.
The story for the saga as a whole is brilliant. All of the movies are pulpy and cheesy. The idea is that they present themselves as something that's silly, but contain a very serious story when you look at the whole picture. That is part of what they're intended to be, right from the very beginning. A lot of people, I think, got so enamored by the spectacle of the fourth episode that they didn't notice how much like an adventure serial it was, and nostalgia and familiarity blind them from seeing that it really was quite abnormal and weird. With the exception of the technology and the natural progression of the story, nothing about the style of Star Wars really changed. It's just that people gradually realized that Star Wars was campy with each passing episode, especially as the themes became more profound.
If you really think that Episodes IV-VI are masterpieces, compare them to The Lord of the Rings and the carefully plotted out Harry Potter series. By comparison, they're....well, they're just like I-III. It would be very hard to take them seriously if they came out today. People at the time that they came out, though, didn't have anything else to compare them to, except for adventure serials like Flash Gordon. When judged that way, they were excellent. When Episode I came out, people found new things to compare it to that it wasn't meant to be compared to, and their categories for excellence weren't suited for interpreting the films. I still compared it to the meaningless adventures of Flash Gordon and found that it did an excellent, subtle job of bringing meaning to that genre.
At the end of the day, though, even if it succeeds in being what it was meant to be (which is how I judge the objective quality of a film), it's still subjective whether or not we accept it. These movies fulfill their vision, but whether or not we like that vision is up to us. I know plenty of people who look at Star Wars (including the 1977 movie) and think that it's just a series about spaceships and escapism? And you know what? They're right. I know a lot of people for whom Star Wars isn't their thing, and that's fine, because it wasn't meant for them. Star Wars has very broad appeal, but still isn't for everybody. A lot of people would rather watch these themes play out in a WWII movie, because to them it seems more appropriate.
If you dislike this movie, that's fine. Disliking things is cool. It shows that you're unique. It wasn't for you. You personally just didn't want something to be serious and campy at the same time, and I get that. But going out to say that something many people enjoy, and that fulfilled its purpose is bad? And then go on to say that those who defend the merits of the movie are stupid?
This has nothing at all to do with being 'campy', or 'abnormal or weird'. Nor nostalgia; I actually grew up with the prequels, not the originals. I'm specifically analysing the narrative elements of these movies. The plot, the story the themes, the structure, the pacing, the tone, etc.
You seem to have attempted to rebuttal my previous point about The Phantom Menace having no arc by saying it wasn't supposed to have a story, it was simply a spectacle. I've sat here for half an hour in a state of what I can only describe as disbelief. You're being serious, aren't you?
If Phantom Menace was intended to be a spectacle, why did it follow the perspective of characters and their plight? Why did we see half an hour of scenes on a desert planet (before the pod race), and half an hour of scenes on Coruscant, neither of which had any spectacle whatsoever, outside of Coruscant's backgrounds?
You didn't really just suggest the original Star Wars was also a focus on spectacle rather than story, did you? Have you ever heard of Joseph Campbell or The Hero with a Thousand Faces?
Nothing you have said makes an iota of sense. Nothing in the Phantom Menace suggests its a construct of spectacle over story. Certainly there are attempts at spectacle, with the final battles and the pod race. But why exactly are they 'unconventional storytelling', when just about every action blockbuster of the last half century has tried something similar? How exactly did the prequels achieve (or intend) spectacle in a way that dozens of movies every year don't achieve or intend?
On Episode II: "In some ways, it's the best out of all the Star Wars films at being a simple adventure serial with deeper themes hidden within."
Once again, it sounds like you're serious. I'm gob-smacked. What deeper themes? What adventure? How can it be an adventure when there's no arc, outside of Anakin becoming angrier? How can you compliment an adventure without any emotional journey?
And you really think the original trilogy was similar? The original trilogy with its clear focus on characters and their journeys, taking specific influence from the concept of the hero's journey, and focusing on EMOTIONS like hope, belief, fear, temptation, anger and redemption, and having the characters develop and change via all of these emotions.
They are classic STORIES, using fantasy and science fiction as setting and mythological grandeur, not as spectacle.
I just... I'm practically speechless. You've kept a very civil and serious tone, but I feel like I'm discussing someone try to describe the artistic success of the Transformer films, or the Twilight novels. =/
I've been trying to not to flaunt the fact that I'm smart, but I'm suppose I'm human enough to react when someone talks down on me and implies so very heavily that I'm stupid. That, and I was really getting in the mood to write a narrative description of the entire saga's story, since I love this and I love finding opportunities to share what I see with other people who haven't had the priviledge. This might just be me and my own conclusions, but it seemed to me that this Youtuber's problem was that he simply didn't see anything, and a giant post detailing that there was indeed a lot to see might have done the trick. After all, once you see something, it's hard to unsee it, right?
I acknowledge any such things as an "original trilogy" as existing. As far as I'm concerned, there's a saga. George Lucas had a story in mind. We know that it went through quite a few drafts, and ultimately he decided to start somewhere in the middle and see where things went from there. I view it as the "second half" of the saga, and an incomplete telling of the story. They're entertaining and have a lot of sentimental meaning to me and many other people; in my mind that doesn't necessarily make them good films. Episode VI made as good of a starting point as any, since it was the simplest of all the chapters and it included the Hero's Journey, which has nearly universal appeal. The other reason why this made for a good starting point was that George Lucas doesn't really like beginnings, since it's easier to start right in the middle of the action, so that's what we started with.
Would Episode IV have become such a hit if it wasn't for the spectacle, though? I've seen this story repeated elsewhere, and it doesn't always catch on. I believe that a huge part of the success was on account of more than just the story itself, such as the B-movie editing, the cinematography, the music, the comedy, and the special effects. I hear a lot of people on the internet saying that they want more story, but so few of them take significant time to geek out about My Left Foot, Network, Dead Poets Society, A Beautiful Mind, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Life is Beautiful, The Blue and the Grey, and so forth. These movies did not gather quite the following that Star Wars or Jurassic Park did, because they tried their best to remain as simple as possible, because part of their purpose was to capture a feeling and a sense of wonder, in which they succeeded. I think that's a good thing to accomplish, since that's something that I think society needs. Personally, I have trouble saying whether or not one type of film is better than the other, since they each have a lot to offer, and the only two films that I will say are "the best" are Schindler's List and It's a Wonderful Life. Episode IV has a timeless story, but in my list of top-twenty films to see, if you were to only ever see twenty movies in your lifetime, I didn't include it, although I have often considered Episode III. However, I still admire how it perfects the art of spectacle and balances it out with just the right amount of story.
Transformers and Twlilight aren't quite my thing, but I've never bothered criticize them. Transformers holds value as pure entertainment, and I respect it for that. The Twilight movies aren't so bad as pieces of art, and the only thing that I've really found to criticize (and sadly, this is important) are its morals. Unhealthy morals are one of the few things that I will point out as being objective flaws in a movie.
Anyway, back to Star Wars. Allow me to share my perspectives on the saga, chapter by chapter.
Episode I is, for all intents and purposes, a fanfare and a prelude to everything else. I consider it the most "primordial" of the movies, when the elements of the mythology are just coming together from a myth that's pagan to something more monolithic and centralized. There's a sense that things have been a certain way for a long time, and some elemental force awakens to change the status quo. Narratively, the main development is that events have been set in motion, and the main cast understands by the end of the film that they will live to see major things happen. A lot of this is a prologue for the rest of the saga, but I find it essential prologue. This is the story at its very, very beginning and its most basic. You can always start in the middle of the action, but where is the very start? How far back can you go until you reach a point before the action and before the story? This movie sits right at the very tip, because it's the point where the old proto-narrative gave way to the narrative of the Star Wars saga. It's also the furthest back you can go before the central cast of characters ceases to have any relationship with each other. The story begins with the events that bring Obi-Wan, Luke's parents, and Palpatine together. Films that function as a fanfare-prologue are unconventional, but I found it fitting of Star Wars, especially since prologues are very mythic and timeless, and in keeping with the style of Star Wars.
This film also introduces us to Anakin's past as a slave, the failure of the Republic to "exist" out on Tatooine and be of any practical benefit to slaves, Anakin's budding savior complex, his destiny in bringing balance to the Force, and his belief that the world would be better if everyone helped each other ("helping" being the operative word; political liberty doesn't figure into his vocabulary). He has a romanticized idea of who the Jedi are, a strong belief in himself, and a desire to prove himself to the people he idolizes. I believe that it also establishes Obi-Wan as traditional, reserved, and loyal, and Padme as a political idealist who believes strongly in "being there" for people in need (I personally categorize this trinity of characters as ENTP, INFJ, and ENFJ, respectively). Yoda is also introduced as a stoic, stiff, and stubborn character, much like Mace Windu. These traits will come to play later on.
When the film ends, there's a lot of room for discussion on what the film is leading up to, what will happen next. Even though the film didn't go out of its way to highlight these narrative features, George Lucas (an obvious INFJ) intuitively understands what makes these characters tick, although his personality means that he doesn't do a lot to actively establish the characters. For people who are "sensing" as opposed to "intuitive," I always imagined that this would be a problem, but that's a topic for another discussion. In any case, I thought that our ability to digest the film after viewing should mean that we would see more and more with time.
Episode II comes out, and it's a fairly wacky adventure. If there was ever a time for Star Wars to go all-out Flash Gordon, John Carter, and Errol Flynn, this would be the time. Of course, underneath it all, there are serious things going on. Padme is trying to reconcile her dedication to her lonely profession and a desire to have a personal life. Anakin is the only person who sees her as someone other than a politician. Anakin has also been burdened by the unexpected entanglements of the Jedi, who are obsessed with their code, their political entanglements, their emotionally stunting stoicism, and their asceticism. They never allow him to see his mother, and she dies because of it. When that happens, he becomes angry enough to kill the families of an entire village. It hit him where it hurt. Meanwhile, he's also becoming increasingly disillusioned with the Republic and wishes that it could be more practical in order to do a better job of "helping" people. He wishes someone "wise" was in control. This very often happens in real life with people who have theoretical freedom but can't enjoy the benefits of it: they often turn to the government for help and sacrifice freedom for prosperity. Finally, Anakin discovers that he still has feelings for Padme, which is hardly surprising, since she was evidently one of the first people to treat him as something other than a slave, and that she left an impact during the most pivotal moment in his life. It formed a core memory (to borrow lessons from Inside Out) centered around the desire to be believed in. This is where Padme's intensely nurturing and empathetic nature comes into play. Padme still believes in him, and while she recognizes that he has flaws, she also understands that they're part of what makes him human and wants to be there for him, just as she wanted to be physically present for the people of Naboo, and eventually for Obi-Wan when he was in danger on Geonosis. It's awkward because their professions don't normally allow them to be themselves, but there was something exciting about learning how to communicate with someone on a personal, even romantic level that very obviously drew them in. Consider it a forbidden fruit, if you will. The "forbidden romance" aspect of this story was very intentional, and it's a timeless tale.
The film ends with Anakin compromising and trying to pursue two dreams that exclude each other, hoping to find a third path, but otherwise living in fear, just as Yoda predicted, but also completely on account of the Jedi.
Episode III begins with differences between Anakin and Obi-Wan reconciled. Some years have passed, and in some ways they have rubbed off on each other. They have an intuitive understanding of each other, and now see each other as equals. A lot of Anakin's issues with the Jedi council have been repressed into dormancy. He's married, and a wise man who believes in him is gaining more and more authority in the senate (I'm sure that he saw a little of Qui-Gon in him). Things have been going fairly well for Anakin.
Until he has reason to fear that Padme will suffer a similar fate as his mother. In a roundabout way, he tries bringing it up with the Jedi, but their response is ascetic: "Get over it." Palpatine has some far more comforting things to say, and also introduces him to the possibility that the Sith might not be evil, but merely misunderstood. After all, Darth Plagueis sounds far more relatable than Master Yoda, since Plagueis apparently believed in love. Growing increasingly afraid, Anakin starts hoping that such a power exists.
Padme's also pregnant, accentuating this fear. She's also keeping political secrets from him and not being entirely honest, which he can subtly detect. There's an imbalance within their relationship (and there are deleted scenes that further accentuate this by showing her conspiring against Palpatine, which I wish they kept in). So even this rock in his life has become uncertain.
Meanwhile, differences between Mace Windu and Yoda begin to show up. Yoda isn't as grumpy as he once was; he now seems weary. Mace is becoming increasingly aggressive and judgmental. Palpatine sets him up to clash with Windu by putting him at odds with the Jedi Council. The hypocrisy of the Jedi, and their pursuit of power, becomes slightly more apparent. Anakin isn't consciously wondering if he's on the wrong side, but the doubts and the resentments are growing.
Then Palpatine reveals that he is the enemy that Anakin has been taught to hate from the beginning (actually, come to think of it,he never says it; Palpatine merely says that he was schooled in both the light and the dark sides of the Force). Anakin tells Mace Windu about his suspicions. Mace doesn't trust Anakin, but he takes Jedi to arrest Palpatine anyway, and pulls out weapons on him before he even confesses to anything. They seem to regard each other with jealousy, and it seems that Palpatine is right that the Jedi are just as interested in the Sith in accumulating power, albeit with different methods of admitting this to themselves.
Anakin thinks he's seen enough to be convinced that both Palpatin and the Jedi are evil, and betrays the Jedi, taking a third option and holding on to Palpatine because he and Padme were the most honest people thus far, and he also needed Palpatine to keep his fears deterred.
What does he do at this point? He realizes that he's crossed the Rubicon. He killed Mace, and he can't go back from that. The traumatic experience of his mother's death comes back to them, and he does something that he never thought he'd do again. He snaps. He kills children, except this time he takes it out on the Jedi, the people responsible for her death, and the potential death of his wife. I've encountered people, particularly atheists who became disillusioned with their religion, who say that this visually represents exactly how they felt when they rebounded. Everything that's been building up over time, consciously and unconsciously, breaks free. Furthermore, he has the law on his side, and he's also told that only through unleashing his passions in such an absolute way can he become powerful enough in the Dark Side to save Padme.
This all proves for naught, however, because he begins to truly believe that Padme betrayed him, and he realizes that she will never be happy with him. She stops believing in him, and now he has no one. The one thing that he thought he could fight for turned out to be another shadow on the wall, and he's left feeling completely abandoned. He lost her, feels betrayed even by Obi-Wan, and ultimately plans on overthrowing Palpatine the moment the he outlasts his usefulness. Perhaps the one important fundamental belief that wasn't disproved over the course of this film was that the galaxy would be better if people helped each other, and the believe that he could be that person to restore order to the galaxy.
No matter, because he loses on more aspect of himself: his body, his power, and his pride. He can no longer believe in even himself. Furthermore, he's informed that he killed his pregnant wife. The symbols and imagery in that scene suggest that he sees himself as a complete monster, and completely hates himself. Others have commented on how the vision behind his mask represents that he's fallen into a Hell of his own making, and that he's accepted and taken ownership of the fact. Either way, there are enough things going on here psychologically that it's not to hard to think of a reason why he would resign to following Palpatine.
There's even more going on here than I'm describing, but I'm sticking to just Anakin's story. Padme, Obi-Wan, and Yoda, and the Republic all changed as well. I particularly like how the Republic's downfall follows the the downfall of real-life countries quite well. Its depiction of populism and paranoid nationalism hold particular weight for anyone observing today's politics. Anakin also seemingly defies a prophecy, although people have debated on how to interpret it.
Nineteen years pass.
Episode IV: The big one. And yet, when seen chronologically, so very small. Luke Skywalker, the son of Darth Vader, goes through a hero's journey and learns to believe in himself. Incidentally, he doesn't require the approval of anyone else, and he doesn't have any ambitions. Obi-Wan, intriguingly, seems to be quite evasive about his past, and teaches Luke about the Force, but absolutely nothing about the Jedi.
This movie also stars Leia, who Luke does not yet know is his sister. She's very much like her mother, a political idealist, although not quite as empathetic and more stubborn.
They both defy their father, Anakin (who now goes by Darth Vader and is completely unrecognizable as his former self; psychologists theorize that he developed a split personality in order to handle his self-hatred and often use him as an example to their students). They do not recognize each other, which reminds me of many fairytales and even a couple of Biblical stories.
Episode V: Vader becomes obsessed with these two, particularly Luke Skywalker. He doesn't know why; he never even met Luke. Then he finds out that Luke is his son, and that somehow he survived his pregnant mother's death (everyone at her public funeral even saw that she went to the grave with the baby still in her womb).
Luke doesn't know this yet. He believes that Vader kills his father. He discovers Yoda, who by now has changed greatly. Yoda stubborn, but serene, and now cares much more about the Force in a way that reflects Qui-Gon. He teaches Luke about this, not the Jedi code. The one specific thing he does tell Luke, though, is to let go of fear and recklessness, lest he become too much like his father. However, like his father before him, Luke receives a troubling vision of the people he cares about.
For the first time in decades, little pieces of Anakin begin showing up. He still speaks of bringing "order" to the galaxy (a very Vaderish thought; a twisting of his original plea to help others without much to suggest that his wife's idealism ever rubbed off on him), but he confronts Luke and tries to show him that together they can overthrow the Emperor and end all of the conflict in the galaxy together.
Why is this tempting? At first I was at a loss (Why would you suddenly choose to be evil simply because someone suggested it right after cutting off your hand?), but of course he was always attached to the idea of following his father's footsteps. And ending all of the conflict in the galaxy seems like a tempting idea, since many people believe that they can succeed where all others have failed.
In the heat of the moment, there's not much to think about, though, so he says "Sayonara!" However, it ends on a cliffhanger.
What was Luke's character arc? There wasn't much within this episode, but there's a great deal of promise for what's to come. It's the definitive cliffhanger.
Episode VI: Luke returns, and Palpatine hypothesizes that Luke will come to Vader out of compassion. The interesting thing about Luke, though, is that he's the first Jedi ever demonstrated to use the Force to choke people. He also goes on a mission to save a friend purely out of attachment. He's very different.
According to traditional Jedi vs. Sith reasoning, he might as well be a Sith. However, Luke has never been schooled in that dichotomy. He simply follows his own natural humanity, and he does what is compassionate: that is to say, he roots his passion in others. His "religion" is based far more on faith, hope, and love than it is on code or dogma. In a very real way, he embodies balance in the Force.
Vader is stuck in his ways. He says that he "belongs" to the Emperor. In Palpatine's presence, he even seems a bit pathetic, as if he's reverted to seeing himself as a slave, which is entirely possible. I've speculated, poetically, that he considered himself dead, that "from dust he came and to dust he shall return," which in a way could mean enslavement. However, seeing Luke stay so incredibly true to himself reminds him of the best of Anakin Skywalker, as well as the best in Padme. Luke also does something no one ever did since Padme died: he believes in Anakin. He's everything that Anakin ever lived for, and when he sees Luke suffer at the hands of Palpatine, the his old purpose in life that were once disproved by tragedy and pain had a returned and come full circle. He overthrows the Sith, like he always said he would, and with his last dying words, he tells his son, "You were right."
To me, that's an incredibly powerful story. There's so much in there, and so much that I overlooked as I tried to focus in on certain aspects of it. There are other themes as well, but the idea of redemption and discovering what balance through faith were big ones for me. I can't recommend any one film so much as the entire saga. I love it, think it's beautiful, and think that it has just enough focus within the story without being shoe-horned in. I've never known any saga to tell a story better. Looking back on it, I also think that it was told in just the right amount of parts. The Ring Theory, by Mike Klimo, does a good job of explaining that particular choice.
So there you have it, my input. Was I needlessly snarky or sarcastic? Was I mean spirited? I hope I was being optimistic and better than the attitude that I was criticizing! Does anyone else have further thoughts to add that this discussion might have inspired?
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"Episode I is, for all intents and purposes, a fanfare and a prelude to everything else. I consider it the most "primordial" of the movies, when the elements of the mythology are just coming together from a myth that's pagan to something more monolithic and centralized. "
Okay. I'm going to walk away now. Thanks for the discussion.
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I study prose and game design at university, though my favourite books on storytelling tend to focus on film-making. Karl Iglesias' "Writing for Emotional Impact" and Robert McKee's "Story" are my personal favourites, and of course Joseph Campbell's "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" is invaluable if you want to be a writer. I'm still studying, but that's not the point.
Here's the point: you don't need to have studied any creative medium to be able to critique the obvious flaws of the prequels. The lack of characterisation, arcs, motives and rational actions. The plots brimming with filler, nonsense, contradiction and gaping holes in logic. The insane mismanagement of pacing, structure and tone. And let's not get started on the abysmal directing and dialogue. Etc etc etc. If you want details, I'm not wasting my time getting it, just go watch the Plinkett reviews. The prequels are so obviously terrible I find this whole discussion unbelievable. I'm still wondering if this is just an elaborate attempt at trolling.
Once again, I think it's GREAT that you guys like the prequels. You should never apologise for liking something. I would love to like the prequels, as I would love to like Transformers or Twilight. Liking things is awesome. But arguing that they're good films is near to the equivalent of arguing that Rebecca Black's "Friday" is good music. You can say 'it comes down to opinion', and of course that argument stands for ANY creative piece in ANY medium. But I'm sorry, I just cannot agree that it is impossible to say - relatively definitively - that certain pieces are not just crap. Fan4stic is crap, obviously. Aliens: Colonial Marines is crap, obviously. The prequels are crap, obviously. Maybe not to extent of those last few examples, but you get my point.
So I'm leaving this discussion because I don't see anything I can get out of it. There's no knowledge to be gained from arguing with delusion.
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Joseph Campbell gets cited a little too much for my taste, but perhaps that's mainly because I always liked the book Story by McKee even more. And props: you are officially the first person I've met who's also read it. It's funny, though, because while reading through that book I specifically thought that the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the complete Star Wars saga emphasized just about every strong point of storytelling that he brought up. The example of a bad story that he brought up (a girl gets a better job, a better boyfriend, and a bunch of other generic but meaningless story arcs), is something that so far I've only seen in student films and The Room.
Before the saga was complete, I never thought that Star Wars was good. I enjoyed the first three released episodes because the operatic qualities were great, but I thought that the stories were weak and the character motivations didn't make any sense, particularly with Darth Vader and the Emperor. To me, they were simple guilty pleasures that I enjoyed for no other reason than how perfectly they embodied the musical premise of the opening crawl. It wasn't until the saga came full circle that anything made any modicum of sense and that I actually considered the story great.
Before Episode I came out, I also accepted that the acting was hoakey. Everyone I knew made fun of it, and I didn't really care because I made a decision to like the films because I nevertheless found it charming.
It's still a matter of speculation to me on why people point at the "obvious flaws" of the first three episodes and act like they're not following in the unique style of the later four that came before them. If people think that the flaws of the first three episodes are as obvious as the color of the sky, shouldn't they by extension see the exact same flaws in the others? If someone watched them without any sentiment, there's not much to write home about other than the special effects, music, and character designs. The Force Awakens is the only film in the series to be directed in the type of style that you're talking about.
If you want some fairly objective remarks from a Youtube critic who intelligently analyzes films, you should check out yourmoviesucksDOTorg. He did a spoiler-free review of The Force Awakens and gives some level-headed perspectives on how this is different from previous films, and how it's the only film thus far to have good acting or editing. He's specifically contrasting them them with Episodes IV-VI.
Prior to this new era by Disney, Star Wars had its distinct style, and as a piece of art, I liked it. It was unique, and it was its own. Nobody can repeat the style without being a cheap imitator, so these movies have solidified their places in popular culture. More power to them for that.
This is just a side note, but I legitimately find the song Friday to be a great song. Some friends played it once on their boombox when we were lifting weights, and it was the best song they had played while lifting weights all week. I got quite disappointed when they didn't play it on subsequent Fridays.
I don't think that anyone here is trying to tell you to agree that these movie a are good, but your statement that people who find reason to think that these movies are good are objectively stupid and delusional is a personal insult to them, and they would like you to take it back. Clearly, they're intelligent people. You might disagree with the claims that these movies are all collectively great, but their arguments are intelligently presented, and I do think that they provide a valid point of view. Isn't dismissing others' opinions purely out of personal incredulity something that can really hurt society? When this manner of thinking gets used in matters more important than mere movie discussion, it very seriously hurts people.
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"If people think that the flaws of the first three episodes are as obvious as the color of the sky, shouldn't they by extension see the exact same flaws in the others? If someone watched them without any sentiment, there's not much to write home about other than the special effects, music, and character designs."
It is specifically this that makes me think there is no point in discussing this. I'm not blinded by sentimentality when it comes to the original trilogy. I grew up with the prequels. And I honestly don't see how it's possible to think the same flaws exist in the originals as in the prequels, or that special effects, music and character design are their only redeeming qualities.
When I point out that the Phantom Menace has no arc, there isn't any 'opinion' or 'intelligently presented argument' that can dismiss that, and that should go without saying. I'm aware of how pretentious that sounds, but I say it because it as close to objective fact as it comes when discussing storytelling. You say you have read McKee's 'Story', so you must understand. The total non-existence of an arc (which is obviously inapplicable to the originals) is not a forgiveable detail for a story, and you cannot just say the film wasn't about story. Qui Gon did not have an arc, Obi Wan did not have an arc (apart from being forced to accept Anakin), Padme did not have an arc. Anakin's arc was separate from his character (he had no inner conflict to resolve). No main character had a journey or arc to speak of, and the film FOCUSED on the plight of the characters. And while that is the most obvious of Phantom Menace's flaw, it's only one slab of a mountain of storytelling (and film-making) incompetence. There isn't anyway I think think to describe the idea that Episode 1 is a good film but as 'absurd' and 'delusional', because it comes as close to objective inaccuracy as I have ever seen when discussing a creative piece.
Here's my point: if you think what I'm saying is an opinion, there is absolutely no point in discussing this. I understand why you would find my words insulting, but I see it as the equivalent of pointing out that someone is objectively wrong about 4+4 equalling 6, however much I despise comparing storytelling to maths. We're not seeing the same page here.
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Someone else butted in right here:
since when are creative works obgetivly bad, just because they don't fit common drmatic structures, such as an arc?
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This is the other reason I don't want to get into this conversation. What's the point of discussing storytelling with someone who doesn't understand what an arc is, or why an arc would be important to a character driven film? Do you have the slightest idea how rare a film without character arcs is? We're talking French art-house films, 'non-films' and the like. Oh, and mindless Hollywood blockbusters like Transformers of course.
I'm sure you guys will claim The Phantom Menace was INTENDED to be an abstract film, ground-breaking in its total misuse of characters, despite following a specific group on a linear adventure with traditional plot structures (and film techniques). Because it couldn't possibly just be badly written (it's a coincidence the dialogue is terrible, the plot contradicts itself, etc etc, right?). This is why I threw out that 'delusion' comment earlier. And then we'll be back to the point where I gave up on this conversation last time.
If you want to keep thinking Episode 1 is 2001: A Space Odyssey (and even that, funnily enough, had character arcs in its primary vignette), be my guest.
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Just throwing this out there, but I think that Transformers has more of a character arc than the original Star Wars, as well as Raiders of the Lost Arc. I still don't like them as much overall because of their crude tone (and actually, thought's about the only negative thing I have to say about them), they technically fulfill what you're looking for.
And I stand by my statement that Episode I has an arc. As it happens, I believe that the most important arc is thematic rather than personal (it seems very much like the main arc belongs to the Force itself), but otherwise, how is Anakin's story arc that much different than Luke's in Episode IV? Luke wanted to make a difference and ultimately got what he wanted and became a hero. Nothing about his character changed throughout that film, other than that he learned about the Force. His story arc was a purely external one. Anakin, for the most part, is similar. He starts out an idealist, gets a chance to make a difference, and acts out on that idealism. He has to make a personal decision to leave his mother behind, but in the process, he learns to use the Force and also realizes that he's destined for great things. The music within the music (which in Star Wars plays a significant role in the storytelling) fills in a few gaps and creates an implied narrative that fills in some blanks: mainly, that the pain of Anakin's separation from his mother isn't over, and that because it it he is also destined for dark things.
Obi-Wan's arc is that he accomplished knighthood and learned to trust his former Master's philosophies just a little more.
If that's not enough for you, watch the Star Wars saga as one movie, which is how George said he would prefer people to watch them. I always watched Episode I this way because George Lucas knew while making it that it would be the beginning of a three-part (or six part) story. Anakin/Vader goes through a very dramatic story arc, which I detailed as plain as day in a previous post. Each movie reflects a distinct stage in his life and shows how the events of the previous films have come to change his attitudes and behavior.
The point is that a lot of very well presented arguments have indeed dismissed the idea that there's no story or character arc. If someone doesn't see a character arc, it just might be true that there isn't one, but there's also the possibility that they simply haven't noticed it. If someone does see an arc, it can't really be unseen. If you are indeed correct that all narrative stories have some sort of arc, then the Star Wars saga must evidently have one that you must have missed. Maybe it's not "plain as day" that there isn't one, so much as that the narrative is subtle and doesn't advertise itself. I think that the best narratives do that: they slip in through the backdoor without people consciously noticing them, and then they benefit from them tenfold when they go through the process of "discovery" and realize what the story was saying all along.
Looking at the movies and seeing what they all accomplished, I think that they all made a positive contributions to society. I've watched the first three movies with little kids and have noticed that they're much smarter and more critically thinking after the fact without even realizing it. If something makes a positive contribution towards society, and children's ability to learn (which George is very opinionated about), then it's objectively good.
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Anakin certainly had the most significant arc in Episode 1, which is more or less my point. Qui Gon and Obi Wan are the characters we follow, and neither had an arc (it's pushing it in the extreme to say his journey was accomplishing knighthood, we saw no conflict of the sort). But ok, ignoring that, let's analyse Anakin's arc and compare and contrast it to A New Hope.
Luke's arc in the first movie was (plot wise) the journey from a simple far boy to a hero of the rebellion. Obviously this is also the focus of the film, with the narrative specifically following his perspective. More important is his internal struggle. When we meet him he wants greater things, but rejects Obi Wan's offer until he is forced to leave home. He has his first lessons in the Force, but is given reason to doubt this power (both via Han Solo and his own disbelief). In the Death Star we see his first attempts at change, when he convinces Han Solo to risk their lives for the princess. He obviously has failings and successes here, leading up to the culmination of Obi Wan's death. He takes this badly, but it shows him how much faith his mentor had in the Force; so much so that he would willingly die to demonstrate its power to Luke. This leads up to the climax of the film and the completion of his arc, when Luke hears the voice of Obi Wan, finally making the choice (which we see him struggle with even in this final moment) to ignore the typical world (the targeting computer) and instead put all of his faith (and all of the lives of the rebellion) into believing in the Force. We have a plot arc and an internal arc in one, with an incredibly satisfying conclusion. I also have to put as an aside here, we also have Han Solo's arc from selfish smuggler to returning hero (once again both a plot and internal struggle for the character that is explored throughout the movie). Han's arc is relatively short from a screen time perspective, but we understand who is as a person in the canteena, see him bribed into saving the princess, see his guilt and temptation when he eventually leaves them, culminating in his choice to return and help the rebellion.
They're simple arcs, hardly complex character explorations the like of which you'll see in Oscar bait films. But the strength of these arcs are what support the film, not the explosions or the battles or the action. All the key moments we remember of the original trilogy are character moments; parts of their journeys when they struggle and learn. Like The Princess Bride they're simple but emotional character driven tales, like mythologies or high fantasy.
Now when we look at Anakin - the solitary arc of Phantom Menace and not even the primary perspective of the film - we see a similar plot structure. From simple slave who wants greater things to hero of the liberators. But what this utterly lacks is an internal struggle or journey. His story climax is pure plot; he has no internal struggle and resolution in the destruction of the donut ship. He was put into situations he didn't CHOOSE to be in, and then ACCIDENTALLY achieved victory. His one and only internal struggle in the film is leaving his mother, as you say. But also as you've pointed out, this is the only the beginning of an arc that continued into the next two prequels. He leaves his mother and promises to return, fails to do so... sort of, kind of motivating him to the dark side, though not directly. I actually really like the idea of that arc, had the specific moments been written better. But that's besides the point.
All of this leaves the Phantom Menace without a single character arc. I judge films for what they themselves contain, not what might later be finished off elswehre. I refuse to accept a film's flaws just because subsequent films explain them away (I'm also critical of The Force Awakens for not demonstrating Kylo Ren's pull to the light and backstory, which will likely be explained in Episode 8/9).
Certainly Episode 1 fits into the prequel trilogy and series because of that moment of Anakin leaving his mother... but that is it. An important but incredibly small moment that wasn't in the top dozen focuses of the film. That is not a redeeming arc of an entire movie. Compare that to the originals, which were BUILT around and RELIED on those COMPLETE journeys to be satisfying tales, even in their simplicity. That is the main failing of the prequels, more so than the writing or the non-characters or the logical failings of the plot. But of course, it does all add up.
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I think that the big difference here is that you look at all the films individually, and I see them as chapters in a story. Now personally, I love the look and feel of that particular part of the story and I think that George Lucas created a good opening fanfare for the rest of the series. It works exceptionally well in that regard. It works well in that regard. And ultimately, for the most part, I really see this movie as introducing us to characters who are avatars for the Force and a demonstration of its growing imbalance (or rather, a revelation that it is still indeed not in the balance). Sure, on the personal level it has only one-sixth of an arc, but that's because Lucas always did want Star Wars to be just one whole movie. For what it's trying to do, it succeeded, and I critic films in much the same way that Robert Ebert criticized films: I judged them on their own terms to see it they lived up to the goals they set for themselves.
It's okay, of course, to judge a film by your own standards to see if you personally enjoyed it. But as for me, when a movie literally has "Episode I" in its title, it tells me to withhold judgment until after I've watched the rest of the story. Saying that it's bad because it's not a complete story is like saying that the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone was bad because it didn't have enough of the main character (and for what it's worth, that chapter is one of my favorite parts of the book, and scenes in the movie). The Phantom Menace is indeed mostly setup, like a first chapter that's supposed to put everything into perspective and basically introduce you to the characters, but as setup, it sure is entertaining and gets me interested in what's going to happen next.
Out of curiosity, does your opinion of this film change when you watch the movies as a marathon? Because there are certainly different ways of watching this. I judge The Force Awakens in two different ways as well; one as a standalone (it's my least favorite of the saga thus far, because I don't know where it's going), and second as a member of a saga. Right now, I really don't like Kylo Ren, but I also fill in the blanks in such a way that I do really like him, because I'm assuming that he's going to get explained more in the future. So I'm only given it a third of the judgment that I might otherwise give it, and I'm withholding most of it until I see the rest of this new story.
Until then, I don't really mind that the initial onscreen conflict is man vs. man instead of man vs. self. Technically speaking, it makes this a much simpler film, and I think that's something I wanted out of a first episode, since the complex stuff should really come later as you delve deeper into the story.
(By the way, with regards to Obi-Wan's arc, simplified it to simply becoming a Jedi Knight. To put a little more perspective on that, he evidently didn't know that Qui-Gon believed in him so strongly. I also think that he goes from not thinking much of Anakin to realizing that he wants to train him in order to honor Qui-Gon. You say that he was forced, but I see a conscious decision to set aside previous perceptions and at least trust his former master enough in order to believe that Anakin might be the Chosen One. So he does from questioning his master to trusting him in the one area that mattered the most to him, enough that he even momentarily gets on Yoda's bad side, when previously he never desired any conflict with the Jedi council. It's simple and hardly my favorite thing about Star Wars, but I like it a lot more than Han Solo's very visible arc, which I always thought was "bad" but still likable.)
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Each and every Harry Potter had its own self contained story and character arcs, as did Episode 4, 5 and 6. And 7 for that matter. They all had character arcs that were completed within their individual stories, while more branching threads continued throughout. The same can be said of any good series.
The prequels did not do this. Phantom Menace specifically was the worst culprit there, having absolutely no character arcs whatsoever (outside of Anakin's plot arc). That is objectively terrible storytelling as far as I can be concerned. There's a reason so many people despise it.
And no, my impression of Phantom Menace doesn't change at all when I watch them in order. Largely because I judge a film as a film, but also because the Phantom Menace can be skipped entirely and almost nothing is missed. We understand Anakin's abandoning of his mother perfectly well in Episode II, without having to put ourselves through the bore of two hours of nothing but dumb plans and mindless action.
"George Lucas created a good opening fanfare for the rest of the series. It works exceptionally well in that regard."
This is something I just cannot respect from an objective analysis of The Phantom Menace.
"I also think that he goes from not thinking much of Anakin to realizing that he wants to train him in order to honor Qui-Gon."
There is no conflict or inner struggle in that arc. He has a single line of dialogue saying Qui Gon should obey the council, then Qui Gon dies, and so Obi Wan is adamant he will train Anakin. Apart from not being a journey or an exploration of a character, I would actually argue it's a change at all. I personally always interpreted Obi Wan as simply be dedicated to Qui Gon, and so dedicated himself to his dying wish. That old trope we've seen a hundred times, and nothing more.
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If you don't like opening fanfares, then I respect your subjective experience with them. They're not for you, and I understand if you don't really like the saga. In any case, I'm not comparing Star Wars to anything except for itself, so I don't really care if Harry Potter did anything different (the comparison I made was to chapters, not to the movies).
I believe we've established now that there are two different ways to watch the film. On its own and as the first chapter in a series. I explained earlier why it's the absolute beginning of the story (it's where the principle cast comes together for the first time), but on top of that, let's consider these things:
1. You see just how far in advance Darth Sidious is planning, since he's manipulating events far before the Clone Wars.
2. You see the social unrest and can understand why a Separatist movement forms in Episode II.
3. This movie establishes that slavery exists on Tatooine because the Republic is inefficient. This would later influence the worldviews of both Padme and Anakin. Especially Anakin, who clearly began valuing political efficiency over political freedom.
4. This movie sets us up to expect that Darth Sidious is the type of person who treats his apprentices as replaceable. You see that he replaced Dooku and that he was trying to replace Vader, but at that point you don't realize that a pattern is being broken. By having Sidious replace two apprentices before Vader, it sets up a pattern to be broken.
5. This is where Anakin and Palpatine first meet, so you know that they've maintained a relationship for ten years. So he's been a mentor and a grandfather to Anakin ever since he was nine. That really makes a difference in how you view Episode III.
6. It establishes the Rule of Two, which finally explains who Palpatine in Episode VI didn't just take Vader and Luke as his apprentices. The pseudo-explanation within that film (it was required to join the dark side) never quite satisfied me.
7. This is the only movie where Anakin's virgin birth is ever mentioned, which adds a great deal of extra mystery to the scene in Episode III where Palpatine says that Darth Plagueis the Wise could influence the midi-chlorians could create life.
8. Anakin's belief that the galaxy would be better if people helped each other more sets him up as someone who would eventually develop a hero complex. You see how these attitudes transform and get perverted as the series goes on.
9. Anakin's status of the possible Chosen One of an ancient prophecy, destined to bring balance to the Force, is only ever mentioned again in the third act of Episode III. It's nice to hear it early on, and it also explains the why Anakin is brought on into the Jedi Order. Furthermore, he knows that this is the reason, which makes a difference in his outlook on the Jedi and of himself.
10. It's established that Anakin got separated from his mother at a very young age, but also not so young that he had no memories of nor attachments to her. This is something that you have to see, and it isn't the same if it is merely inferred.
11. This is the film that established just how young Padawans are required to start, which gives you an idea of how the Jedi work and what's wrong with them. This also establishes, initially, why they distrust him.
12. Episode II mentions Qui-Gon, and Episode III establishes that Yoda began learning from his ghost. Between Episode III Yoda and Episode V Yoda, there's an appreciable difference in attitude and character. Seeing who Qui-Gon was gives someone an appreciation for the difference.
13. More viscerally than any other, it visually demonstrates the primal differences between the Light Side and the Dark Side. You really see it when Qui-Gon and Maul are separated by the laser doors.
14. This movie establishes why Padme would see something special in Anakin, since after all he was the savior of her and her planet, and he also inspired extreme empathy from her. Even if she initially only sees him as "always that little boy," that's still seeing quite a bit. Likewise, this movie establishes that Anakin met Padme when he left his mother and learned that he could save worlds. She was the first person other than Qui-Gon and his mother to express belief in him, a symbol of all he was destined to achieve, and also a reminder of all that he had left behind. Because of this film, I find it completely understandable how these two are incapable of really ignoring each other.
15. This movie establishes that Padme is an idealist and an empath who specifically desires to be physically present when it comes to solving problems. This means not leaving Anakin's side when he's struggling with his mother's death, and going straight to Obi-Wan when he's captured. Yes, this behavior can be inferred by just seeing Obi-Wan, but it's very nice to see her doing these things when her actions before her actions are more critical to anyone's character development.
16. Nute Gunray wants Padme dead in Episode II. Here, we see where that personal vendetta started.
17. I don't think any other movie went to such great lengths (until Episode VII, that is) to show us just how naturally talented a character was at piloting. And this does play in later in Episode VI.
18. Thematically, this movie bookends with Episode VI by showing that Luke is the completion of the ideas hinted at in Qui-Gon.
19. Thematically, it's important to see how Anakin and his son started off their journeys in fairly similar circumstances, only to diverge.
20. This movie establishes more than any other that a major part of Obi-Wan's character is loyalty. We know from the other movies that he's very reserved, traditional, straightforward, and a bit of a peacemaker (basically, an INFJ), but the ending here does establish that a great deal of what he does is also out of a personal sense of loyalty.
Which brings us back to the discussion of Obi-Wan. I see him as being very loyal to Qui-Gon and very loyal to the Jedi Council. You're right in the fact that he's loyal doesn't change. However, these two loyalties do conflict, and he is initially a bit more icy and introverted than Qui-Gon (ironic in that it's usually the other way around: the Master is more reserved and the apprentice usually takes the risks). In the end, he allows his loyalty to Qui-Gon to precede the rest of his personality, which would have otherwise rejected Anakin. In my mind, that's a fairly similar story as with Luke's, since Luke is torn between two loyalties and also isn't sure if he entirely believes his mentor (though he would like to), only to put faith in his mentor's beliefs in the end. The main difference is that Luke's conflicting loyalty was eliminated and thereby eliminated the need to make a choice.
Anyway, it seems that the movie still makes an emotional impact on people, similar to how people still acknowledge that Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is fairly simplistic with an undeveloped main character, but it hits the right notes to create the right sort of intuitive emotional arc for the audience. I personally like that this is the simplest out of all the movies, because that's precisely what it should be. The characters want something, work for it, and end up getting what they want (except for Obi-Wan), which is a basic enough of a story that it works for a lot of people. It gives us characters with plenty of potential, and then delivers on that potential in Episode II.
To a good extent, I see what you're getting at with your critiques of Episode I (our difference is in whether or not those make it objectively bad, or simply a bad movie for people looking for certain things in a film). However, the next five episodes most certainly have more character development in each section, including II and III.
Once Episode II starts, the story goes into much greater depth and the characters are explored much more. Now it also ends on a cliffhanger (much like Episode V), so the story is incomplete, but it does have an arc. Anakin tries to resolve a conflict of interests within himself and ultimately decides to pursue both, regardless of the consequences. It's a pretty major decision, one that he knows will affect the rest of his life. Padme succumbs to the desire to have a personal life. They go from being reckless individuals who jump into situations they intuitively think they can handle, to going all-in on something that they really aren't sure they can handle. Obi-Wan clearly recognizes that they're in love and ultimately decides to turn a blind eye because he's ultimately loyal and attached to Anakin as a friend. Otherwise he's the quintessential Jedi, as Jedi are preached. Mace Windu becomes more aggressive, smug, and prejudiced, since the war allowed him to bring these qualities to the surface.
And then there's Episode III, which I'm assuming is your favorite of the first three episodes, as is mine. Of course, it should be, since it's the climax and reason for their existence. I happen to think that I and II enhance the experience, but otherwise the film most certainly stands on its own, and it has the most clear and dramatic story arc out of any of the movies. To me, III and IV are the two most ideal as standalone films (and of course, this is subjective).
This is a total guess, but since Episode VII wasn't much of a standalone (yes, it had a portion of an arc, but the film holistically was not a standalone film), I'm wondering if VIII or IX will operate as a quintessential standalone experience. That's purely speculation, but in any case, I look forward to VIII, which I think will do more to enjoy the present moment.
But back to Episode I not being a standalone film: no, it isn't a standalone, but neither is the Christmas story. Jesus does even less than Anakin does, but even so, these two stories are fundamental in interpreting the main events that come later. The events at the very beginning make a difference, and they're worth remembering and respecting.
Of course, two out of the four Gospels don't tell the Christmas story. Regardless, all four are canon. As a kid, I believe I treated Episode I as an event, much like how Christmas (the story and the celebration) is an event. On those grounds, it's solid, and the movie is very fortunate that many people do enjoy it on those grounds.
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"If you don't like opening fanfares, then I respect your subjective experience with them"
What? No, that's not what I said. I don't have an opinion on that, I've never heard anyone in my life try to justify a film as 'an opening fanfare'. You realise 17 of those 20 points are pure exposition, right? Only 8, 19 and arguably 14 are story, and even those three could easily have been accomplished in retrospect (flashback for example).
I'm wondering, is that your definition of this 'opening fanfare' thing? You seem to enjoy the Phantom Menace not as a story or a film, but as a large piece of introductory lore and exposition. I can understand why you could be partial to that, but you must accept it's obvious the film wasn't focusing on that lore. We didn't follow the plight of these characters in these situations to learn set up. George Lucas WAS trying to tell a story here, but we can hardly point out any story which exists. So I understand respecting the lore, but respecting the film as a story?
This just sounds crazy:
"I believe we've established now that there are two different ways to watch the film. On its own and as the first chapter in a series."
A film which exists only for the sake of adding depth to later films is... study. It's background, like an instruction booklet to a board game. Of course I'm not saying study is inherently bad. But what you seem to be saying is that the Phantom Menace is, at best, two hours of study wrapped up in a failed story.
You've misinterpreted what I meant by the word 'standalone'. I was specifically referring to, of course, stories. A story is 'standalone' when its arc is complete, even if branches are left hanging. Episode VII is absolutely a standalone from a story perspective. The characters completed their arcs. And for that matter, most chapters in novels and most episodes of TV shows have FULL story arcs.
If you don't answer anything else in this comment, can you please attempt to answer this: give me any example of another 'opening fanfare', that being a film/show/novel/game/any piece of entertainment that only exists for the sake of exposition and set up, rather than story? Any example at all at the beginning of any series?
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Just pointing this out there: Star Wars doesn't use flashbacks. Characters sometimes have visions, but we have yet to have any flashbacks in the Star Wars saga, and hope that we never do. Likewise, slow motion is a trope that doesn't belong in Star Wars, either. As for exposition, I beg to disagree. Sidious manipulating things behind the scenes was not exposition. Darth Maul being treated casually by Sidious isn't, either. Some of these are exposition, but it's valuable exposition, and it's nice to get it out of the way so that these topics don't need to be covered again in Episode II and III. Like I said before, they aren't absolutely essential in order to understand what's going on in Episodes II and III, but they help add to the picture. Similarly, I've found that Episode IV doesn't do much that carries over to Episode V. If I had a preferred trilogy within the series, it's actually I, III, and VI, since one can, after all, infer everything that happens in-between these three episodes, and they do tell a complete story.
Returning to the point of the exposition, I think that the most natural places to bring up Anakin being discovered at the Chosen One is when he's first discovered. Likewise, the most natural time to talk about his time as a slave is when he's in slavery. You could have brought up those points in Episodes I-III, but a lot of these really did fit better in Episode I. And even though exposition is often a dirty word among many, it's often necessary for the purpose of pacing. At least it was for many interesting exposition. It told me fascinating things that got my imagination going. I was interested in what was going on in those scenes, and I was interested in the characters who were talking. And even then, it found the balance, because in political scenes such as when Amidala calls for a vote of no confidence in Valorum, there's no longer any exposition or explanation for why she changed her mind -- you can see it in the expression on her face. Likewise, Obi-Wan's conflicting loyalties between Jedi tradition and the intuition of his master eventually comes up in exposition when he actually says something to give away what we sort of could tell all along: that he was very reserved and of a different nature than Qui-Gon, living more by form than by faith.
Whether or not these points could have been covered in Episodes II and III isn't the point, since they weren't. And as such, it ultimately does contain things that changes one's perspectives on the saga.
But to get to you main point: Fleischer Superman cartoons were basically pulp fanfares. So was Action Comics No. 1. Superman has since done quite a bit that has been inspired from those simple origins, but it all started with a simple idea that sounded cool. Similarly, Mickey Mouse started out with Steamboat Willie. Goofy was introduced in Mickey's Revue. George Lucas openly said that Goofy was the inspiration for Jar Jar Binks, and it's common knowledge that he took a great deal of inspiration from the serials of the Golden Age of Cinema when making Star Wars. He's very nostalgic of that time period. Before that golden age even began, there were also Vaudeville acts, although those were non-narrative.
What Episode I reminded me the most of, however, was the opening to Disney's Fantasia 2000. Along with the Star Wars opening crawl, I think that this is the greatest film opening of all time, and it is absolutely a fanfare. Its arc is a purely spiritual one: good conquers evil. Obviously, George couldn't take inspiration from that, since it came out the same year as Episode I, but it's an example. It's my favorite of all Disney films. The following pieces in the program, incidentally, delve deeper into more personal story arcs, and culminates beautifully in Firebird, which basically revisits the themes of the opening piece, but with a greater deal of depth and personal expression than before.
A huge part of the Star Wars saga is its music. That it can reflect music is something I respect. I enjoy that it's so different in that regard and that the story really does evoke the feel that I get with the music.
Then there are many chapters in many books that don't have a complete story arc. I mentioned the first chapter in Harry Potter, and it doesn't have a character arc where a character changes. Neither does the first chapter in The Hunger Games, or Artemis Fowl. They're still engaging scenes because they create magical moments (full disclosure: the only one I personally like here is Harry Potter), but they exist as only a portion of the Hero's Journey.
Of course, not every scene in Episode I has the same pacing and energy as a Disney skit, or the Christmas Story, and so forth. However, it's visually fascinating. Mos Espa is a beautiful and exotic place for a middle act. The senate it a lovely place, and the costumes are the best in the whole series. I've seen boring movies, and this most certainly isn't one (If you want something that's technically a great story, but boring, go look at Foxcatcher. Or The Godfather, which I simultaneously enjoyed and found boring.). "Fanfare" doesn't necessarily mean "high-octane" so much as it implies that the film will always dwell in elements of the fantastic, which it constantly does. Even in the slower scenes, there's something fantastically nostalgic about them and how they reflect those simple adventure serials. The movie constantly evokes a fantastic feeling as much as it can, and I sincerely do feel like I'm in a fairytale.
Sometimes fairytales simply have point A to point B conflict without an arc. And even if they do, the main character usually starts off thinking it's that simple before they reach their lowest point. Gilgamesh certainly started off with a simplified view of things before he truly got deep into his quest for immortality and met Uta-Napishti.
In any case, character arcs was not an essential story element taught to me in my English and literature classes. The essential elements were the plotline and some sort of conflict. The plot line consisted of Exposition/Rising Action/Climax/Falling Action/Resolution. That is, there's a status quo, a spark that challenges the status quo until events culminate into a new status quo, or a modification of the original status quo. The conflict could be man-self, man-man, man-nature, although I personally realized that this can be expanded to include nature-nature, or even nature-self conflicts if someone is particularly philosophical (I haven't seen any good representation of that last conflict, and I only really see it in essays disproving God or uncreated nature as paradoxes.). Come to think of it, the most universal conflict I've ever seen is actually nature-nature___, because on some level there's always conflict between abstract ideas. In the case, of Star Wars, it's Light and Dark struggling to bring balance to the Force. In Episode I in particular, you see that the status quo is challenged by the Dark Side, and is represented with a mostly through avatars in man-man conflict. There were minor examples of man-self conflict, but then wasn't the time for it. In any case, I think that this is far more fundamental to story than a personal, psychological arc. Without spirits, there can be no spirituality, and Episode I was a vivid illustration of the basic character of Light and Dark as understood within the Star Wars saga.
In all this, literature classes taught me that characters are technically optional (music tells a story without characters, for example), but are either dynamic or static, round or flat; no distinction was made as to whether or dynamic and round was a better thing than characters who remained constant and simple. And thank goodness: the Giving Tree would not have been as well-remembered of a character if Shel Silverstein made it dynamic just for the sake of being "good." As main characters, Superman, Batman, and Captain America inspire people precisely because they're static in half their stories (Don't worry, they're still round. I will admit, static and flat is much harder to pull off,especially in a main character.). Part of what makes Indiana Jones great is that his character hardly needs character arcs in order to work. In the old school James Bond movies, this was also the case (although I personally do not like James Bond).
TV Tropes has had some insightful things to say about static characters and the Hero's Journey. On static characters, one of their examples says "J. R. R. Tolkien claimed that in heroic sagas like those of the Vikings or the Ancient Greeks, characters do not develop; instead, different aspects of their fixed, essential nature are revealed by new circumstances. He put this theory into practice in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings: the modern, anti-heroic characters (the hobbits) are dynamic and get Character Development, while the archaic, heroic characters like Thorin and Aragorn are static." On the Hero's Journey, they present quite a few ways in which it can go down, and one possible story arc is that the character simply goes through challenges and ultimately gets what he or she wants at the end ("The Ultimate Boon") which I do think describes Anakin's initial journey. Ultimately, I think that Joseph Campbell, while describing a common story archetype that can be very broadly defined, still doesn't cover everything. I'd say a more comprehensive observation on story comes from Christopher Booker's The Seven Basic Plots, which I still don't think is comprehensive (or rather, his explanations get a little too particular to the point where he doesn't do his ideas justice; although overall the book does prove its point since it's ultimately quite long)(Also, while I understand the archetypes, he's quite particular about what makes them good. For example, he thinks that Episode VI is a bad movie because the Hero saves the Princess before beating the Villain, at which point most people will disagree with him. Clearly, the story is still one of his basic plots), but I digress. The point is, I definitely see Episode I as an "Overcoming the Monster" plot when seen on its own, and the beginning of a "Rebirth" plot when viewed as part of the saga.
I guess you can debate how much of this actually applies to the movie. And of course, one might debate that static characters can still have a psychological arc (I looked at many characters people claimed to be static and noticed). However, in my experience they're not all that different from Star Wars, and the differences in principles really only come out when we painstakingly analyze the film, as we are now.
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Well, I tried. I have tried and tried and tried, but I don't think anything I'm saying is getting across to you. At this point the continuation of this discussion would just be me repeating myself in different ways so you might understand my broad points, which you keep missing. So good day.
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It's getting across to me. You likes arcs. You like it when the arc is front and center. It's just exactly as you say: you keep on saying the same thing, just with different words.
There's nothing wrong with looking for a story arc and judging a film by those standards. To me, that's simply an observation of what's common, and I don't have any problem with a movie that recreates the old childlike feeling of playing with LEGOS.
The problem is that it seems that your attitude about this standard makes your regular life more painful, because you're not just disappointed by Episode I, but appear to carry a resentment that affects you nearly two decades later. The worst part is that you appear to still believe that anyone who disagrees with you must be stupid or delusional (I know many people that I think are wrong about obvious things), not worth having a high opinion of, and if that is your belief of the people surrounding you, then you're going to be quite unhappy.
If there's anything I've learned from God over the years (and, okay, me being an extrovert as well), it's that other people and indeed all of Creation are all worth delighting in. The profound truth of unconditional love shows us that even when other people are wrong in their convictions, that they aren't stupid for having them. By having convictions in the first place, they're demonstrating that they're made in the image of God. I really like that a saga like this can inspire such strong opinions. To me, that shows that God can use amazing diversity just by casting simple pebbles out into the world of art.
If there's anything I've learned from God over the years (and, okay, me being an extrovert as well), it's that other people and indeed all of Creation are all worth delighting in. The profound truth of unconditional love shows us that even when other people are wrong in their convictions, that they aren't stupid for having them. By having convictions in the first place, they're demonstrating that they're made in the image of God. I really like that a saga like this can inspire such strong opinions. To me, that shows that God can use amazing diversity just by casting simple pebbles out into the world of art.
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