Star Wars
Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
(2005)
(SPOILERS) Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith is the only series entry
(thus far) I haven’t seen at the cinema. After the first two prequels I felt no
great urgency, and it isn’t an omission I’d be hugely disposed to redress for (say)
a 12-hour movie marathon, were such a thing held in my vicinity. In the bare
bones of Revenge of the Sith, however, George Lucas has probably the strongest, most
confident of all Star Wars plots to
date.
This is, after all, the reason we have the
prequels in the first place; the genesis of Darth Vader, and the confrontation
between Anakin and Obi Wan. That it ends up as a no more than middling movie is
mostly due to Lucas’ gluttonous appetite for CGI (continuing reference to its
corruptive influence is, alas, unavoidable here). But Episode III is also Exhibit A in a fundamental failure of casting
and character work; this was the last chance to give Anakin Skywalker
substance, to reveal his potential and why his turn to the dark side was such a
tragedy. At this, Lucas fails completely.
Revenge
of the Sith moves along at a clip, though, and its
depiction of the unchecked downfall of the Galactic Republic is engrossing for
its prevading darkness, despite (always despite) most of the content being created
on a computer screen. And while Hayden Christensen is unable to convey anything
approaching likability or maturity, it’s worth remembering he was only 24 when
this came out. That’s a year younger than Mark Hamill when A New Hope was
released, and the difference in age shouldn’t be underestimated. Lucas really
needed to cast older and go younger for Attack
of the Clones; a furrowed brow, glowing eyes and a ‘70s mullet do nothing
to suggest an older Anakin (nor does buffing up for another sweaty nightmare).
Anakin is still petulant, still rash, still
wilful, and was only ever thus. This may have been Lucas’ conception for the
character (who knows, everything went through so many variations), but it
really means the audience has no “in” point with him. It would have been nice
to see the Anakin that resurfaced thanks to Luke’s cajoling, but Christensen’s
Anakin didn’t have a positive side to begin with. The scenes of him gradually
turning, or slaying etc., aren’t a dead loss, they wield some impact, but they’re an abject disappointment in context, and they’d
be so much stronger with a performer able to convey an entire range of emotion
surrounded, aided and abetted by actual physical scenery, props and co-performances.
As with Attack
of the Clones, this all comes down to Lucas’ choices. There’s never a point
where we see the Vader that will be in Anakin, because Anakin goes straight
from surly brat to robot stooge. And no, I’m not forgetting wheeling on James
Earl Jones voice for “Nooooooo!” (and
wheeling him back on to say the same for a Return
of the Jedi special special special edition; good God, George, you really have
no conception of when to stop). That’s more than enough evidence right there
that Lucas didn’t have the faintest objectivity about tonal content in the
prequels.
This is the child who still repeatedly
snarls “It’s not fair” and
(disastrously) “I hate you!” after
his legs are severed (of all the possible responses in such circumstances, that
isn’t the one that springs to mind). Sure, Anakin can be young and
impressionable, but age him up five years and grant him a bit of intelligence
too, and a modicum of personability. Don’t make him merely a dupe, and make his
loss feel something. As it stands, I’m more left wondering why Obi-Wan didn’t
gets a pointy stick and roll his former young Padawan from the edge of the lava
bank, as leaving him to flambé like that is a bit much.
With regard to the “Balance of the Force”
prophecy, the one that goes round and round the prequels, perhaps Lucas is to be
commended for leaving it open-ended (my understanding is that he does consider Anakin to be the balance),
perhaps he has no real concept of what the balance means in practice. It isn’t
like The Force Awakens (let alone the
EU, in whatever now-redundant incarnations) is going to leave the galaxy as neat,
tidy and Return of the Jedi-positive.
To be honest, though, I have a problem even with the term as defined; the Force’s
ideal state is supposedly light, so restoration would be a better term, balance
suggests something more Zoroastrian, equal and opposite co-existing.
Senator Palpatine: Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth
Plagueis the Wise?
At any rate, the lore added here, to be
taken, or left, comes with possibly the best scene in the prequels (I know,
slim pickings), as Palpatine invites Anakin to the Star Wars universe’s equivalent of a night at the opera, where he
recounts the tale of Darth Plagueis. The quality of fear of loss and death motivating
Anakin would have been a strong enough central motivator to have granted him
much more accessibility than we got in the first instance and then still understand his ready accession to
the Dark Side. As such, the lure of attaining the knowledge of Plagueis
represents a perfectly lustrous dangling carrot (Anakin: Is it possible to
learn this power?; Palpatine: Not from a Jedi).
McDiarmid is outstanding in this scene
(even if he goes a bit OTT when wearing his Emperor prosthetics later), registering
casual disapproval of the abilities “some
consider unnatural” to keep loved ones from dying and create life (the
implication being that the manipulation of midichlorians may have been the
source of Shmi’s virgin birth; apparently EU lore considers a combination of dark
side intent and Force finessing to have instigated Anakin).
This is one of the few scenes in the
prequels that conjure the kind of mythmaking and world building that cemented
the Original Trilogy in the mass consciousness, the kind of thing the prequels
themselves did their utmost to tear asunder and denigrate. It’s mythmaking that
needs to continue under Episode VII
if Star Wars is to regain its
essential sense.
Ironically, while Obi-Wan is far more
crucial to the plotting of Revenge of the
Sith, Ewan McGregor is able to exert a lesser impact than he did in Attack of the Clones. This is possibly
because he spends so much time battling CGI. The opening sequence, where he and
Anakin “rescue” Palpatine, is essential a thrill-free picking up of where Attack of the Clones’ final act left
off, as a multitude of stuff swarms busily across the screen. Even Obi-Wan’s
offhand quips (“Oh, this is going to be
easy”) are less welcome.
Senator Palpatine: It’s only natural. He cut off your arm and you wanted revenge.
From the point of view of plot progression,
he has to be put out of action so Anakin can kill Dooku in cold blood, but off
the back of his injury in Attack of the
Clones he doesn’t seem very capable, while Anakin very much is. That said,
I rather like the way Lucas favours sudden turns of events in his lightsaber
battles; he’s not one for slow motion or labouring the point as you’d get in
many a movie, and crucial moments are more effective for that.
Senator
Palpatine: His
death was a necessary loss. Soon I will have a new apprentice. One far younger,
and more powerful.
Christopher Lee may be in the picture for only
a few minutes, but he makes the most of Dooku’s demise, his look of surprise, missing
his mitts and at the mercy of Anakin, when Palpatine urges “Good, Anakin, good. Kill him, kill him now”.
This initiates a series of dramatic incidents that could have been so much more
so if handled by someone interested in visualising them in the most resonant manner
(imagine the Irvin Kershner of The Empire
Strikes Back directing this).
Obi-Wan Kenobi: Another happy landing.
The preceding sequence includes business
with lifts, and R2-D2 slopping oil over droids; it’s cartoonish CGI silliness,
which pretty much describes General Grievous, this chapter’s one-off villain.
Lucas steps fully into the realm of CGI bad guys and thus creates a black hole
in Obi-Wan’s subplot.
The affectation of a cyborg with a CGI cape, stoop and a
cough isn’t the worst of Grievous’ problems; you never once believe he’s in the
same frame, so when Obi-Wan is sent on a CGI mission to bring the CGI villain
to justice, it’s markedy inferior to his pursuit of Jango in Attack of the Clones.
Well, not entirely; Bruce Spence (more of
Lucas watching The Lord of the Rings,
no doubt) makes an impression as Tion Medon, one of the few non-CGI aliens on
Utapau. That aside, the entire sequence is a wash, from Obi-Wan riding around
on a CGI lizard mount, giving chase to Grievous’ wheely-machine, to the lightsaber
fight where Grievous has four blades (more isn’t more when there’s no substance
to interact with).
Even killing Grievous, shooting him in his
living heart, is an odd moment, with Obi Wan quipping “So uncivilised” as he discards the blaster; should a Jedi not mourn
any loss of life? It seems ironic that a director who tortures himself over Han
shooting first should let something far more obviously straightforward slip by.
The through line of Anakin leads, of course,
to his confrontation with Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Anakin’s path has been very coarsely
traced, such that badness leads to badder-ness accompanied by unconvincing
self-recriminations (because we know he’s a bad egg to the yolk). The internal
struggle is as faint as could be, from “I
shouldn’t do it” with Dooku to “What
have I done?” on dismembering Angriest Ever Jedi Mace Windu.
That he kills
the “Younglings” (a terrible, terrible name) is a still bigger step beyond that
he takes on the chin; again, the dramatic momentum of the plot carries these
events (and McDiarmid’s urging), rather than anything Lucas brings in terms of
moviemaking. Even more than with earlier instalments, Lucas’ threading the
events together is perfunctory, hitting the notes but without any thought that
he should be creating a symphony.
Anakin Skywalker: You turned her against me!
Obi-Wan
Kenobi: You
have done that yourself!
Lucas fashions a series of strong plot
developments (Palpatine pressuring the Council to make Anakin his
representative, and the Council then refusing to invest Anakin as Jedi Master,
so creating further resentment in him, nursing the seeds of discontent by
suggesting Anakin is the natural best person to track down Grievous, and then
seeing the task given to Obi Wan) but having Anakin respond like Kevin the
Teenager on each occasion divests them of potency. If anything, his resentment
of Obi-Wan in reference to Padmé could have been taken further, giving voice to
the seeds of suspicion that she might be having an affair with him, that the
child might be his; the escalation to Force-strangling the woman he professes
to love is, by this point, a convincing development, but it’s still lost in the
scramble of a kid having a scrap against green-screen lava.
Obi-Wan Kenobi: You were the Chosen One!
This should have been the grand battle to
top all grand lightsaber battles, but about the only part that really hits home
is the same suddenness of dismemberment we’ve seen before; there isn’t a
protracted fight when it comes to leaping to the high ground, and I rather like
that it’s resolved so simply.
Unfortunately, this is preceded by an
atmosphere-diffusing fight down a river of lava, its opponents travelling in
the equivalent of a bathtub and a sink as they exchange blows. Lucas doesn’t
understand that simple and elegant would carry far more weight, symptomatic of
the sequels generally.
However weak Anakin’s fall is compared to
its potential, it at least carries something. The treatment of Padmé in Revenge of the Sith is nothing short of appalling.
Leia may have ended up in a slave girl outfit in Return of the Jedi, may have got a bit broody over an Ewok, but Fisher
ensured she remained a wilful and self-assured character no matter what Lucas
did with her. Padmé only deteriorates, losing any sense of individuality once
she hooks up with her chemistry-free amour.
Padmé: So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous
applause.
It’s a small victory that Portman is given
probably the best line in the movie (above), as the Empire is formed “for a safe and secure society” (again,
Lucas’ pertinent points about sacrificing our freedoms for protection from a
nominal, distilled enemy are buried beneath his virtual environment) but for
the (young, malleable, but still considered) politician of The Phantom Menace it’s very much a scrap from Master George’s
table. Particularly since it’s preceded by a clumsy conversation with Anakin
where she voices the lines that are drawn (Padmé:
What if the democracy we thought we were
serving no longer exists, and the Republic has become the very evil we’ve been
fighting to destroy?; Anakin: I don’t believe that and you’re sounding
like a separatist).
Doctor: For reasons we can’t explain, we are losing
her.
Ask George, he can explain. Padmé becomes
the weakest of weak characters in Revenge
of the Sith, existing in fear of the loss of her man, and revolving
entirely around his mental state. She has nothing in the way of a singular
plotline, hanging on the fringes of the action and becoming so upset by him
that she gives up the will to live when he turns; it’s an enormous slap in the
face from Lucas, and its difficult to believe he was unable to come up with
something that gave her a bit more credit (quite aside from Padmé dying when
she does creating a discrepancy with Leia remembering her real mother). And, if
she’s so abandoned, distressed and devoid of hope, how come her dying words are
“There’s good in him, I know it”. Oh,
because Lucas is more concerned with linking the saga, getting to Captain
Antilles, than making his characters considered or rounded.
The intercutting of birth and rebirth is
obvious but effective, but as above it’s tempered by the execution and the
pervading sense Lucas is pushing to get to the point of A New Hope rather than embracing the story he has to tell.
Yoda: Rejoice for those around you
who transform into the Force. Mourn them not, miss them do not. Attachment
leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is. Train yourself to let go of
everything you fear to lose
Sage words from Yoda there. The descent
into ineffectuality of the Jedi is at least well-actualised, and Lucas grasps
the manner in which even an illustrious order can fall into rust and decay. It
remains unclear how much is intent and how much carelessness, however. Most
commonly, they are given to (as in Attack
of the Clones) statements of what’s under their noses (“I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi”),
the sort of thing that would be obvious to anyone with eyes and ears, no Force
sensitivity required. Characters jump about according to the demands of the
moment, so Obi-Wan, the former doubter, is now staunch in his belief in Anakin
(“He will not let me down. He never has”;
what about that time with Dooku, then?) while Yoda and co finally grow
suspicious of Palpatine.
Mace Windu: This assignment is not to be on record.
The underhand acts the Jedi resort to bear
noting too; Anakin is right to blanche when he is told to report back on
Palpatine; he’s essentially asked to become a spy, a CIA or NSA guy snooping on
the constitutional president, in his mind a treasonous act. And Paplatine is
essentially correct when he claims “The
Jedi Council want control of the Republic” since through removing him from
office they will be required to take control.
Part of the problem is that the Jedi are
much more potent as an idea than showing them as a collective force of
Force-users; the “ancient religion” of A
New Hope and Anakin’s “The Jedi are
selfless. They only care about others” carry much less weight when we
witness their ponderous deliberations or lack of compassion. That mythical
state remains elusive, however intentional it may be in part that the prequels
are structure around the Jedi in decline, so we’re left with the impression
they were never much cop.
To wit, the complete absence of ethical
principles in their use of Clone Troopers. It’s interesting that Lucas includes
a scene with Commander Cody (Temuera Morrison, with CGI’d armour), presumably
as a reminder that they’re supposed to be clones of Jango Fett and not actually
really obvious CGI facsimiles at all. But the effect is to get one thinking
about the ins-and-outs of what has been allowed, and the implicit support the Jedi
have given (despite the Council having rejected his suggestion, good Jedi
Sifa-Dias initiated the programme that was then corrupted).
These bred
individuals are divested of freewill, slaves to the Jedi and the Republic, and
no one blinks an eye. Without this scene, thanks to the welter of CGI that
informs them, we probably wouldn’t reflect on their lot much either. So one
might say Palpatine is right, and the Jedi get what’s coming to them (albeit
the Younglings is going a bit too far, even if they appear to have been
selected from the same casting session as Jake Lloyd).
Meanwhile, Mace Windu might not go out like
“some sucka” (the severed limbs
really earn this one its PG-13), but the confrontation further reflects what an
ill-fitting Jedi he is. Of course, he’s in good company with all the other
ill-fitting Jedi of the prequels.
The Order 66 protocol is another tasty bit
of plotting, with the clone army turning on the Jedi at the appointed hour.
Except that the rendering is once again by way of a welter of CGI characters mowing
down other CGI characters, with the odd exception. So too, I’ve already complained
about Yoda being a lightsaber-wielding whirling dervish, and this is compounded
in his fight with Palpatine, who’s also a lightsaber-wielding gymnastic nutter.
Darth Sidious: I have waited a long time for this moment, my little green friend.
These top Force jockeys should not be
lowering themselves to basic pugilism; throw shit about, fine, send bolts of
lightning, fine. But there’s nothing impressive or dramatic about seeing yet
more duels between characters we know have no real physical weight/dexterity (it’s
particularly inappropriate that they end up fighting on the Senate’s central dais,
since it brings with it inverse scale as a tiny area to tussle in). It also
doesn’t help that Palpatine introduces himself like he’s talking to Kermit.
As consistently good as Ian McDiarmid is as
Palpatine, his Emperor is much less persuasive than the version his 39-year-old
self essayed in Return of the Jedi.
Apart from anything, the makeup is less effective than it was 22 years
previously. Nevertheless, the path of Palpatine/the Emperor is probably the one
element that can be claimed as a success throughout the trilogy.
Whereas a consistently egregious element is
the endless in-referencing:
Yoda: Good relations with the Wookies I have.
Really? How exactly, and why “Goodbye Chewbacca, miss you I will”? This
relentless wretchedness encumbers the prequels, entirely irrelevant but
inserted to connect every goddam thing. Did Yoda have an affair with a Wookie
in his youth? What’s his affiliation? Lucas includes a baffling (literal) shout
out to Return of the Jedi with a
Wookie’s Tarzan yell, so fixated is he on all the wrong details.
The only
surprising thing about Yoda’s CGI excursion to Kashyk (lest we forget,
originally considered for Return of the
Jedi before he decided Wookies were too technologically savvy) is that the
Wookies are actually guys in suits
(apart from the ones who aren’t). Scarcely conceivable. And again, the Imperial
Guards we see towards the end are actually
guys in suits.
Yoda: Into exile, I must go. Failed, I have.
Oh, don’t give up so easily. Where’s your Jedi
spirit? Elsewhere we see Padmé’s Leia donut hair (fashions presumably come and
go), a Tarkin stand-in, a skeletal Death Star, Mon Mothma, and Yoda announces,
to Obi-Wan’s joy and our weary acceptance of inevitability, that Qui-Gon can be
communicated with from beyond the grave (this may seem completely unnecessary,
but it comes from the mind that brought us midichlorians).
Darth Sidious: Unlimited power!
With the prequel trilogy Lucas has become
his own Emperor, unchecked in his ambition to do whatever he wants, however
detrimental, to a once great universe. There are strong ideas in Revenge of the Sith, and the bare bones
of the plot itself are entirely solid (the treatment of Padmé and petulance of
Anakin aside). Like The Empire Strikes
Back, it opts not to end with a huge (space or otherwise) battle (a good
thing, but only a third of the saga thus far has eschewed the easy way out),
and proceeds to a note of (rather hasty) reflection. But it’s by way of a
pixelated blur of CGI characters and action that shames even Attack of the Clones. Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
is involving to the extent that the backstory Lucas came up with decades
earlier is involving. Unfortunately, he does everything in his power to disabuse
us of this, the intervening advances in effects technology leaving his worlds
unrecognisable and unpalatable.
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