A discourse on romance

Here's an apparent contradiction for you: I'm a hopeless romantic, there's no doubt about it. And yet - I dislike Romeo and Juliet, I find Lancelot and Guinevere annoying, and I have absolutely no stomach for most modern romantic comedies or dramas. Most people's typical idea of romance I find simply tiresome, cliched, childish or insulting.

So what the heck do I like?

Well, Anakin and Padmé, for one thing. Han and Leia, Ron and Hermione (at least to the extent that there's anything there in canon). I suppose you could say I like these romances because I like the fandoms, but I hope, at least, that it's a bit more sophisticated than that. (Boy, I'm sounding really snobbish here, aren't I? Oh well.) In fact, I think it's the other way around. I like these fandoms because of these relationships - not just the romantic ones, but they certainly play a significant part in my liking. And I feel that there's something fundamentally different between these romances and the usual perceptions of falling in love and what it does to you.

How can you like Anakin and Padmé and dislike Romeo and Juliet, you might say? All right. Let's see if I can get this all out properly. To me, Romeo and Juliet never had any real love. They were children, silly young people who were charmed by the idea of forbidden love and dove right in without a single thought. I don't believe in love a first sight - seeing someone doesn't tell you who they are. And they never did know each other. They were caught up in the rush of the romance of tragedy. In fact, I don't think Shakespeare ever intended them to be paraded as this idealized couple - I think all the things Romeo and Juliet say to each other were meant to be just as cheesy as they sound, just as gushing with nonsense as they would be if anyone said such things today. We've just gilded them over time, imagining them to be rich in beauty and sincerity. Oh, I'm sure Romeo and Juliet thought they were really in love - but there was no depth to it. And I think their rash, unnecessary deaths at the end illustrate that. Their shallow love didn't have to be doomed by the stars; it was self-doomed by their own lack of strength and depth.

So...how is that different from Anakin and Padmé? First of all - just because we know what's going to happen to them, by nature of the prequels, doesn't mean they're destined for it. If Anakin were to resist the dark side, I think their love would be able to thrive. Their love isn't doomed by some outside, inescapable fate just because we know it is in fact going to fall. It is their choices, largely Anakin's I imagine, that will doom their love. Having a choice in the matter is extremely important to me. So I suppose it that regard, it matches what I think of R&J, though not what a lot of people think of it.

All right, moving onward....the problems with R&J are attributed to forces outside their control - the fueding families, their constrictions in society. They moan and sigh and marry secretly, but there's not really much they can do about it. They've been stripped of choice. I don't care much for such helpless characters - it's so tiresome, and there's not much to be done with it. A&P, on the other hand, have chosen the very circumstances that restrict them. Padmé is a politician totally by choice, not by birth or coercion. This is the life she has chosen. Anakin is a Jedi, perhaps arguably because it was the only way out of his slave's life, but though he chafes at the specific restrictions of the Jedi Code, he never outright says, "Gee, what I'm doing with this whole Jedi thing? I'm getting out of here." So. What does that mean for them when they're falling in love? The conflict is much more driving and intense. On the one hand, a love that neither of them can deny. On the other, the lives that they have devoted themselves to and take very seriously. They're not about to cast off all that in a moment - even Anakin, for all this forthrightness, holds back a full revelation of his feelings until they've been on Naboo for a bit and he can't hold back anymore. And Padmé resists for most of the movie - a restraint that makes her ultimate decision much more powerful than if she had thrown herself into it in a instant. There is something to be said for impetuosity, certainly, but without the opposing forces of restraint, the whole story would lack tension. The tension in the fireplace scene is astounding - Padmé's every motion contradicts her rejection of Anakin. Where would that be if she just leapt up and said, "Oh, yes, Ani, take me, I'm yours?" Blech.

Lastly, the love between A&P is ultimately redemptive, not destructive. I don't believe love ought to be such a negative force, that tears the lover's souls apart. Don't get me wrong - I'm quite ready to see Padmé's overwhelming grief when she sees what her husband has become - but I think that sort of grief can be transforming. Love shouldn't make you waste away or murder or rage against the universe. It should make you willing to come back from a lifetime of wrong to rescue a child whose existence is a proof of that love. Luke saved Anakin, certainly, but Padmé had something to do with it as well, of that I am sure. Instead of lying dead from a grisly double suicide, A&P finish victorious. And that's why I love that pairing.

Maybe I'll blather on about Han and Leia later on....