| 
When I was a kid, my favourite movie of all time was the original Star Wars movie. It was just so cool to me. And I always wished Lucas had gone on to make the prequels and sequels he originally intended.
But many years later when I finally heard he was making the next instalment, I was actually worried that with the way Hollywood makes films now, it would be too corny and have none of that magic the original had.
But, like all of you who paid your money and kept faith the visionary would remain true to the original trilogy, I too went along and saw the next trilogy.
And I too was disappointed.
The 3 new movies by themselves are quite fine. Lots of special effects and a little escapism.
But that's all.
If you compare them to the legacy of the originals they fail to stand up at all. What happened to all the amazing original characters that were so full of life?
You've got to ask yourself when determining how good they are is this:
Will the new trilogy be as popular and timeless in 20 plus years from now?
I just feel no "magic" I felt with the originals.
After having such a high opinion of the world Lucas first created it really broke my heart to see his vision tainted by such poor decisions and see through commercialism.
And while I can watch the new films and take some kind of enjoyment from them, I have always been terribly torn about my feelings for George Lucas who once took me to a galaxy far far away.
I feel that my angst and contradicting, heaving emotions over the Star Wars franchise are a far better fuel for a story of one man's internal struggle to find his way through a conflicting emotional mine field, leading to an eventual downfall and journey into the dark side- than the emotionless, vapid, lightweight tale told of one teenager's puberty driven rebellion against his elders.
I expect a certain standard from anything in that world. And if some one is going to continue on from where they touched my heart as a child, they have to stay true to the original dream they created back then.
I cannot and will not EVER be able to think of Darth Vader and Annakin Timberlake as one and the same person.
I tell myself that Mannakin was too badly wounded from his hissy fit and subsequent fight with Kenobi , that the Emperor just cast him aside like all his other minions and replaced him with a new Sith, hiding the fact behind a black suit, inhuman helmet and respirator.
And I have always felt that as the movies progressed, they became worse.
My favourite of all is A New Hope. Then Empire Strikes Back.
But for some reason Return of the Jedi didn't cut it. Even as a child, it just felt "different."
As an adult I can see why. It is whimsical, overly sentimental, and expect for the scenes with the Emperor, has no gravitas at all
But worst of all, it looses allot of credibility when an "entire legion" of the best soldiers with the best technology in the galaxy are wiped out by a bunch of midget Muppets with rocks and sticks.
So it sort of reminded me when I read this post about how I too have always felt that Lucas' movies got worse and worse as time went by.
And this article I came across sort of explains why..
quote:
Ever wondered how someone who could get a vision so right , could somhow screw up so badly in retaining that initial vision?
There are two primary factors fuelling this anomaly. Firstly, and what few people realize, is that the generally-preferred Episode IV - A New Hope (the original Star Wars movie) and its sequel (Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back) were profoundly impacted by individuals no longer working with Lucas. One of them was a man named Gary Kurtz, who produced American Graffiti and the first two Star Wars films.
By the time Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi rolled around, Kurtz and Lucas had parted ways, and Ewoks reigned supreme. If Kurtz were still involved with the franchise, the sagas complexion would be significantly different. His perspective repeatedly counter-balanced Lucas' initial (and sometimes reckless) desires. While still attached to RotJ, for example, there were to be no Ewoks. Kurtz was adamant the film should not be about attacking another Death Star – he didn't like the idea of blatantly repeating such a major conceit within the same trilogy. Also, as originally conceived, Jedi was to have concluded on a more dramatic, bleaker note: Han Solo would have died, Leia would have gone-on to lead the bedraggled remnants of her people, and Luke would have been left, essentially, alone in the galaxy he had just helped free. These characters, brought together by fate, happenstance, and maybe a little bit of prophesy, were to have gone their own separate ways, and return to their own separate lives. A dose of reality in such a fantastic setting.
The prequels would have a different perspective as well: Episode I, for instance, was originally slated to be about The Clone Wars, and the formation of the Jedi Knights. A very different landscape, embracing a very different kind of storytelling than ultimately came our way. A kind of storytelling abandoned by Lucas in-favor of more self-indulgent, less daring whim.
Now liberated from the scrutiny and influence of people who do not always agree with his vision, Lucas creates without fear of encumbrance or rejection. Return of the Jedi, and (to a much larger extent) Episodes I, II and III represent his preferred, undiluted vision of Star Wars. If you like this new flavor in comparison to the first two films in the original cycle, more power to you. If you've ever wondered why everything after Empire smells so damn funky- Kurtz's departure is a major reason why.
Another element in the steely emotional core of these prequels is directly attributable to Lucas' widely-known disinterest in characters and their interactions. Harrison Ford (Han Solo, Indiana Jones) has noted this in numerous interviews. Lawrence Kasdan, co-scripter of The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, and Raiders of the Lost Ark recently pointed-out this deficit, as has Kurtz in an up-coming interview here on IGN FilmForce.
This shortcoming in itself is forgivable, as not everyone is a people person. But, it is also catastrophic when left un-checked. Attack of the Clones is the story of a young man who has nothing, who is having trouble finding his place in the world (and acceptance from those around him). The harder he tries, the deeper the hole he digs for himself, and the more frustrated and angry he becomes. Until he ultimately falls towards darkness, embracing his bitterness to the point of genocidal psychosis.
THAT's one helluva story, and a passionate tale of intrinsic human failing which should easily hit a nerve in every audience member, even only just a little. But no such depth is evident here. In both Phantom Menace and Clones, there are no moments as elegantly simple or quietly affecting as Luke Skywalker gazing whimsically into the twin sunsets of Tatooine (in Episode IV), longing to be somewhere else, and to be a part of something more. No moments as magical as Sir Alec Guinness first description of The Force in that same film, or Yoda's persistent spiritual bitchslapping of Luke in Episode V. Lucas seems unable to expedite such storytelling anymore. One questions whether he was ever able to do so to begin with, or if (as Francis Coppola indicated in Peter Biskind's book Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock 'n' Roll Generation Saved Hollywood) he simply chanced into such moments via great performers and external pressures which no longer exist.
"When I was a child I flew! Then as an adult- I watched others soar."
|
