Star Words: Episode II, Part 13
Dec. 21st, 2017 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrilThere is a literary term known as pathetic fallacy, wherein nonhuman or inanimate objects are described as having human emotions. A simple example would be a mention of "gloomy storm-clouds," as obviously clouds are not literally capable of feeling gloom. It can be overused, as can any literary device, but sometimes there is nothing so evocative in setting the mood as a scene whose environment symbolizes the emotions of the characters in that scene.
And I've always felt that Lucas uses this technique to masterful effect. Dialogue? Sure, okay. But if you really want to understand the moods he's conveying, look at the settings. This is not a literalist tale, and was never intended to be. Everything is rife with symbolism, from the landscapes to the weather to the color schemes. Some people might criticize the Mustafar sequence for its over-the-top, downright impossible battle over molten lava. But it's not meant to be plausible. It's a visual manifestation of the disintegration of Anakin and Obi-Wan's friendship, and of the deterioration of Anakin's soul. If you're not too hung up on the willful suspension of disbelief, it works beautifully. (For an original trilogy example, consider the binary sunset scene from Episode IV, a silent moment wherein Luke's mood is nicely symbolized by the environment. This has always been something Lucas excels at.)
I'm bringing this up because one of the most prevalent criticisms of the romance in Episode II was the dialogue, and I've always felt it was misdirected. First off, this was never meant to be a Benedick and Beatrice-style romance with witty banter and a lively war of words. We got that with Han and Leia; we needed something different here. Second, I like Anakin's awkward attempts to express himself, because it's not about being eloquent or smooth, it's about him struggling to put those ineffable emotions into the limited confines of language. I like his line about not liking sand. He's trying to say what the environment is already saying much better -- that Naboo is nothing like where he came from, that in his mind Padmé is Naboo -- serene as the lake waters, beautiful as the clear blue sky, soft and smooth -- and he desperately hopes that someone like him from such a different, harsh background has a chance with someone like her.
The setting is used to similar effect in the meadow picnic scene. Realistic? Nah. Not if they can actually hear themselves talking over the roar of those nearby waterfalls. But who cares? They're surrounded by what is essentially paradise, and it's only natural that their romance is coming to life in a place such as this. As I mentioned in the last entry, it works especially well when contrasted so directly with the sterile hallways of Kamino. Both the meadow scene and the first kiss scene could be watched with almost no dialogue at all, and you'd know exactly what was going on. The visuals and the music tell it all.
Having said all that, this is a series on Star Wars dialogue after all. And I do awfully like their conversation during the picnic. It starts out with a very flirtatious exchange as Padmé relates the brief story of her childhood romance. She is clearly teasing him with descriptions of Palo -- note the details, "dark curly hair" "a few years older than I" that are essentially the opposite of Anakin -- to get a strong reaction out of him. But the conversation quickly turns more serious as she notes that he doesn't seem to like politicians. Anakin claims that "the system" doesn't work, and though he might mean the specific structure of their Republic and its Galactic Senate, we begin to wonder if he really means democracy itself. For when Padmé points out the primary obstacle to enacting policies in the best interest of the people -- that the people don't always agree -- he declares that "they should be made to."
By whom? Him? No, of course not. But "someone wise." Wouldn't that make a dictatorship, Padmé wonders?
"Well...if it works...."
For just a few tense moments, the pleasant teasing mood evaporates, replaced with unease. As the audience we know what Anakin will become, and now we're wondering if he's already a supporter of extremist political ideologies, even before his fall. What does this mean for Padmé, who has devoted her entire life to democracy?
Then a smile sneaks onto Anakin's face, and the tension dissipates into more teasing and laughter. As far as Padmé can tell, it was just another flirtatious exchange. By the end of this day, we'll see that she's fallen hard for Anakin, almost as intensely as he did for her.
But was Anakin only joking after all? Did he pretend it was a joke to deflect her concern, to avoid a contentious debate? His background is very different from Padmé, after all. She would have been raised and educated in a culture that celebrated democracy in all its aspects. Anakin, meanwhile, was hardly likely to have spent an enslaved childhood dreaming that the proper democratic procedures would free him and his mother. Surely he dreamt, instead, of rescue by a noble hero who made sure the right thing happened. Not by passively debating it in the halls of the Senate, but by taking action. Maybe that noble hero was someone else, someone wise. But maybe that noble hero was himself. "I dreamed I came back here and freed all the slaves."
He wouldn't see it as tyranny, because that leader would always know what was the best for everyone, and would never abuse that power and authority. And why should that view had changed much since childhood? Even after years on Coruscant, he's never seen a vibrant, well-functioning democracy. Only the corruption-mired Senate, who ignored Queen Amidala's pleas for help during the Federation occupation and continues to debate and squabble during the Separatist crisis. No, Anakin has very little reason to believe in democracy. And this ideological difference with Padmé might just be the seed of their eventual estrangement.
Next, a bounty hunter's peculiar creed...
And I've always felt that Lucas uses this technique to masterful effect. Dialogue? Sure, okay. But if you really want to understand the moods he's conveying, look at the settings. This is not a literalist tale, and was never intended to be. Everything is rife with symbolism, from the landscapes to the weather to the color schemes. Some people might criticize the Mustafar sequence for its over-the-top, downright impossible battle over molten lava. But it's not meant to be plausible. It's a visual manifestation of the disintegration of Anakin and Obi-Wan's friendship, and of the deterioration of Anakin's soul. If you're not too hung up on the willful suspension of disbelief, it works beautifully. (For an original trilogy example, consider the binary sunset scene from Episode IV, a silent moment wherein Luke's mood is nicely symbolized by the environment. This has always been something Lucas excels at.)
I'm bringing this up because one of the most prevalent criticisms of the romance in Episode II was the dialogue, and I've always felt it was misdirected. First off, this was never meant to be a Benedick and Beatrice-style romance with witty banter and a lively war of words. We got that with Han and Leia; we needed something different here. Second, I like Anakin's awkward attempts to express himself, because it's not about being eloquent or smooth, it's about him struggling to put those ineffable emotions into the limited confines of language. I like his line about not liking sand. He's trying to say what the environment is already saying much better -- that Naboo is nothing like where he came from, that in his mind Padmé is Naboo -- serene as the lake waters, beautiful as the clear blue sky, soft and smooth -- and he desperately hopes that someone like him from such a different, harsh background has a chance with someone like her.
The setting is used to similar effect in the meadow picnic scene. Realistic? Nah. Not if they can actually hear themselves talking over the roar of those nearby waterfalls. But who cares? They're surrounded by what is essentially paradise, and it's only natural that their romance is coming to life in a place such as this. As I mentioned in the last entry, it works especially well when contrasted so directly with the sterile hallways of Kamino. Both the meadow scene and the first kiss scene could be watched with almost no dialogue at all, and you'd know exactly what was going on. The visuals and the music tell it all.
Having said all that, this is a series on Star Wars dialogue after all. And I do awfully like their conversation during the picnic. It starts out with a very flirtatious exchange as Padmé relates the brief story of her childhood romance. She is clearly teasing him with descriptions of Palo -- note the details, "dark curly hair" "a few years older than I" that are essentially the opposite of Anakin -- to get a strong reaction out of him. But the conversation quickly turns more serious as she notes that he doesn't seem to like politicians. Anakin claims that "the system" doesn't work, and though he might mean the specific structure of their Republic and its Galactic Senate, we begin to wonder if he really means democracy itself. For when Padmé points out the primary obstacle to enacting policies in the best interest of the people -- that the people don't always agree -- he declares that "they should be made to."
By whom? Him? No, of course not. But "someone wise." Wouldn't that make a dictatorship, Padmé wonders?
"Well...if it works...."
For just a few tense moments, the pleasant teasing mood evaporates, replaced with unease. As the audience we know what Anakin will become, and now we're wondering if he's already a supporter of extremist political ideologies, even before his fall. What does this mean for Padmé, who has devoted her entire life to democracy?
Then a smile sneaks onto Anakin's face, and the tension dissipates into more teasing and laughter. As far as Padmé can tell, it was just another flirtatious exchange. By the end of this day, we'll see that she's fallen hard for Anakin, almost as intensely as he did for her.
But was Anakin only joking after all? Did he pretend it was a joke to deflect her concern, to avoid a contentious debate? His background is very different from Padmé, after all. She would have been raised and educated in a culture that celebrated democracy in all its aspects. Anakin, meanwhile, was hardly likely to have spent an enslaved childhood dreaming that the proper democratic procedures would free him and his mother. Surely he dreamt, instead, of rescue by a noble hero who made sure the right thing happened. Not by passively debating it in the halls of the Senate, but by taking action. Maybe that noble hero was someone else, someone wise. But maybe that noble hero was himself. "I dreamed I came back here and freed all the slaves."
He wouldn't see it as tyranny, because that leader would always know what was the best for everyone, and would never abuse that power and authority. And why should that view had changed much since childhood? Even after years on Coruscant, he's never seen a vibrant, well-functioning democracy. Only the corruption-mired Senate, who ignored Queen Amidala's pleas for help during the Federation occupation and continues to debate and squabble during the Separatist crisis. No, Anakin has very little reason to believe in democracy. And this ideological difference with Padmé might just be the seed of their eventual estrangement.
Next, a bounty hunter's peculiar creed...
