Musing on various basher complaints
Jun. 14th, 2007 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrilI've been mulling over the typical complaints bashers have regarding the prequels (as well as ROTJ), mostly because I read a nice article in favor of the prequels that was immediately bombarded by the usual smug detractors. I don't intend to convert anyone to liking the prequels; first off I'm not aware of any bashers who read my journal :P and second because people's opinions are seldom swayed by a few mere words. Mostly, I'd just like to acknowledge that I am aware of these supposed problems; I don't just blindly gloss over them, and I have reasonable explanations for why I don't consider them problems myself. :shrugs: Maybe it's all just because I'm bored and need something to ramble about.
1.Anakin should have been older in Episode I
No, he shouldn't have. Yes, having to use a child actor was a bit sticky. I personally think Jake Lloyd had some very nice performances, enough to balance out the uneven ones. However, logistics of child actors aside, it was important for Anakin to be a child. Luke was just the right age to begin his hero's journey; Anakin was pushed into his when he was still too young to really handle it. This lays the foundation for many of his later troubles. His desperate need for attachment makes perfect sense when you consider how he was taken from his mother, the only person close to him, at an age when most children still have years left with their parents. Now, this is certainly not to excuse every bad choice he makes, to claim that a painful childhood made him turn to the Dark Side and he's not responsible for it. Quite the contrary. He could have avoided it if he had learned to deal with loss, but he refused to face it, and the Jedi didn't exactly offer detailed strategies for doing so. Anakin's age in TPM starts him off appropriately on a troubled path.
2. There should have been a love triangle in the prequels
Ugh. I have biased reasons, of course, for disliking the idea of a triangle, but I think I can offer a fairly objective argument against it as well. It's just plain lazy. When a writer needs to throw complications into a couple's relationship, and they don't know how, they just invent a romantic rival. Presto, instant conflict. But not very interesting. We might surmise that without that rival, everything would be peachy keen between the two lovebirds, and that removes all sophistication from their relationship. Far more interesting, and far more effective toward characterization, is the development of inner conflict. The fact that Padmé and Anakin care for each other, yet also care deeply about their roles as Senator/Jedi, and cannot serve one interest without betraying the other, adds just the right sort of turmoil to their relationship. It's not even the typical "forbidden love" with their situations entirely out of their control. Both have freely chosen their ways of life, both could freely abandon them if they were willing (just retire, for goodness sake, Padmé!) But Anakin cannot bear to abandon the dream of becoming a Jedi; Padmé stubbornly continues her life of public service. It's a conflict of ideals, not petty jealousies. Even when shades of a triangle appear in Episode III, it's not about romantic betrayals. It's loyalties, ideals, allegiances, and it's largely all inside Anakin's embittered mind. Now that's drama. As for the much touted triangle in the original trilogy, it comprises all of about three scenes, and quickly morphs into, you guessed it, a conflict of ideals. Luke and Han aren't really warring for Leia's affections; they're fighting over selflessness versus the mercenary life, and in the end it's only by embracing selflessness that Han wins Leia's heart.
On a similar note....
3. Ewww! Incest!
This is actually from the original trilogy, but I find it so tiresome I just have address it. Erm, when did incest become defined as nothing more than a kiss? You'd have to do a lot more than that to qualify for the dictionary definition of incest. Now, I understand that there's certainly a squicky quality to seeing a brother and sister kiss, but it's fairly obvious that Leia's not even thinking of Luke; just trying to rile up Han, and there's hardly any of what you might call sexual tension between the two siblings. In plenty of cultures, kissing is a normal way of expressing familial affection. Not our culture so much, but if you compare the brother-sister kiss with any of Han and Leia's kisses, well, it's pretty obvious where the tension is. If you want to be grossed out by true incest, just read any ancient mythology. Luke and Leia's kiss will seem pretty chaste in comparison.
4. Midichlorians are too scientific!
< sarcasm >Yes, of course. Unseen lifeforms that use some mystic form of communciation to talk to their hosts, that's straight out of a biology textbook.< /sarcasm > And um, listen to Qui-Gon's speech just a little closer. Midichlorians do not equal the Force. They're a conduit. The Force is just as mystical and fantastic as ever it was.
5. Too many special effects, not enough plot
Hmm. This may be too subjective to offer a definitive analysis, but I find the special effects in the prequels to be nicely subdued, a proper background for the story. Granted, the podrace and the Coruscant chase scene are a bit overlong, but they're not just flash and bang - they contribute important plot points, as well as characterization. With some exceptions, the special effects consist mostly of backdrops, scenery for exotic worlds that can't be simulated by any real place on Earth. So they use computers to help create the scenery, but the point is to make it convincing enough that it doesn't distract from what's actually going on in the scene. I could point out plenty of other movies that use special effects with much less discretion, much more to make the audiences ooh and aah rather than to actually tell a story *coughthematrixcough* but I don't want to get into a major comparison war. Suffice it to say, I was pleased in general with the balance of spectacle versus storytelling in the prequels.
6. There should have been a Han Solo character in the prequels
Why? If you're so fond of his character, just re-watch the original trilogy. The point of the prequels was not rehash everything that had already been done; it was exploring new territory. Introducing a veritable clone of Han would have been pointless. Was there a need for a Solo-ish character in the prequels, to add a dose of cynicism? I don't think so. Han Solo represents the self-serving, pessismistic, mercenary sort of character that the Empire has bred, someone who doesn't trust the way of the Jedi because the Emperor has done very well to discredit it, someone who doesn't believe in altruism and optimism because, well, look where that got the Republic. Such a mindset would have been much less common during the era of the Republic. On another level, Han works in the original trilogy because of his interactions with his counterparts; the naive farmboy and the crusading princess. Neither of those characters appears in any major form in the prequels. Anakin is different from Luke; he dreams of freeing slaves, not becoming a heroic member of the Rebellion. Padmé is not the equivalant of Leia, in spite of all their similarities. Leia has developed a certain caustic, spitfire nature after her time spent warring with other Senators in an increasingly defunct Imperial Senate. Padmé, while certainly far from mild-mannered, is from a more genteel era. She would not much enjoy bantering with a Han Solo type. No, a character like Han Solo would be entirely out of place in the prequels. But then, maybe that's what people dislike about them. They consider Han the most interesting and compelling character of original trilogy, and are subsequently disappointed whenever someone of a different sort takes precedence.
7. ROTJ emasculated Han Solo
Hmm. That's a rather disconcerting claim. Where is Han in Episode VI? He's not a cynical mercenary anymore. He's become more selfless, more inclinced to serve a worthy cause, willing to sacrifice for his friends and for his ideals. He's no longer the type to shoot first and ask questions never. And this, apparently, strips him of his manhood? On the contrary, these behaviors are the sort that demand great courage, inner strength, true manhood. But I'm not surprise that my definitions of manhood differ from the fanboys who reel in horror at the thought of Han waiting to be attacked before shooting back at Greedo. At the start of ROTJ he's in a very vulnerable state, needing others to rescue him where he once did the rescuing; he's blind, he doesn't know what's going on. As the movie goes on, he makes a lot more sheepish, embarrassed faces than he did in the previous movies, he's no longer devil-may-care; he allows himself to be ruffled by his doubts about Leia's affections. All of these behaviors may seem shameful to people who define masculinity as the absence of all weakness, all stereotypically feminine traits. That's just sad. I find Han in ROTJ profoundly heroic, far more attractive than in either of the previous two movies. Harrison Ford reportedly wanted his character to be killed off; he considered that the best way to solidify his heroism. But is is a much more powerful, though subtler, sacrifice to me, when he shows himself willing to give up Leia if she'd be happier with Luke. Now that makes my heart melt. And if that's how they define an emasculated man, well, give me that any day over their version of manhood.
And on a similar note....
8. The prequels have emasculated Vader
I saw that complaint almost word for word a few years back, and it made me giggle. Erm, if there's any time we know for sure that Vader/Anakin is a proper man, it's during the prequels when Padmé becomes pregnant. :P But lifting our minds out of the gutter, I acknowledge again how sad it is that people define manhood as the behavior of a petty bully, someone who responds with violence to the slightest undermining of his authority and has no forgiveness for anyone's mistakes, murdering without remorse. Vader, I would submit, is not cool. He's pathetic. This is evidently true from the orignal trilogy, without the context of the prequels. In the famous "I find your lack of faith disturbing" scene, we all cheer to see the slimy Imperial officer put in his place. But take a look at his face after Vader releases him. He's not frightened, appalled, his eyes full of a horrified realization. He's still contemptuous. Probably he'll step more carefully around Vader from now on, but you can just see him thinking, "He tricked me somehow. He rigged something to make it feel like he was using that 'force' to choke me, but I know better." Acts of violence don't convert people to believe in the Force, nor do they do anything to force Vader's underlings to believe in him. They fear him, but they do not have true admiration or respect for him. He's become so embittered after losing his friends, his love, but he can't regain them with the viciousness that has become his nature. To paraphrase Leia's words to Tarkin - the more he tightens his grip, the more slips through his fingers. He has nothing, he keeps grasping to hold on to something, but it never works. Beneath the imposing armor and mask, he's weak. The prequels only contradict an awe-filled view of Vader if that's what you had to start with. If you were able to see through Vader's bravado to the pathetic man beneath, the prequels serve to show how he fell to that place. A teenaged Anakin, plagued by self-doubts, struggling between his conflicting desires and his sometimes successful, sometimes failed attempts to do the right thing, is still a stronger man than Vader. And if he could have properly endured the process of the hero's journey, he could have been like Luke, strong and admirable in his ability to love and discern goodness, not the ability to strangle people for increasingly petty reasons. (If this hasn't bored you yet, read my essay on Saga Journal for more ramblings on the varied forms of masculinity between Vader and Luke.)
I could think of lots more, but my daughter isn't going to let me keep writing much longer, so I'll have to finish for now.
1.Anakin should have been older in Episode I
No, he shouldn't have. Yes, having to use a child actor was a bit sticky. I personally think Jake Lloyd had some very nice performances, enough to balance out the uneven ones. However, logistics of child actors aside, it was important for Anakin to be a child. Luke was just the right age to begin his hero's journey; Anakin was pushed into his when he was still too young to really handle it. This lays the foundation for many of his later troubles. His desperate need for attachment makes perfect sense when you consider how he was taken from his mother, the only person close to him, at an age when most children still have years left with their parents. Now, this is certainly not to excuse every bad choice he makes, to claim that a painful childhood made him turn to the Dark Side and he's not responsible for it. Quite the contrary. He could have avoided it if he had learned to deal with loss, but he refused to face it, and the Jedi didn't exactly offer detailed strategies for doing so. Anakin's age in TPM starts him off appropriately on a troubled path.
2. There should have been a love triangle in the prequels
Ugh. I have biased reasons, of course, for disliking the idea of a triangle, but I think I can offer a fairly objective argument against it as well. It's just plain lazy. When a writer needs to throw complications into a couple's relationship, and they don't know how, they just invent a romantic rival. Presto, instant conflict. But not very interesting. We might surmise that without that rival, everything would be peachy keen between the two lovebirds, and that removes all sophistication from their relationship. Far more interesting, and far more effective toward characterization, is the development of inner conflict. The fact that Padmé and Anakin care for each other, yet also care deeply about their roles as Senator/Jedi, and cannot serve one interest without betraying the other, adds just the right sort of turmoil to their relationship. It's not even the typical "forbidden love" with their situations entirely out of their control. Both have freely chosen their ways of life, both could freely abandon them if they were willing (just retire, for goodness sake, Padmé!) But Anakin cannot bear to abandon the dream of becoming a Jedi; Padmé stubbornly continues her life of public service. It's a conflict of ideals, not petty jealousies. Even when shades of a triangle appear in Episode III, it's not about romantic betrayals. It's loyalties, ideals, allegiances, and it's largely all inside Anakin's embittered mind. Now that's drama. As for the much touted triangle in the original trilogy, it comprises all of about three scenes, and quickly morphs into, you guessed it, a conflict of ideals. Luke and Han aren't really warring for Leia's affections; they're fighting over selflessness versus the mercenary life, and in the end it's only by embracing selflessness that Han wins Leia's heart.
On a similar note....
3. Ewww! Incest!
This is actually from the original trilogy, but I find it so tiresome I just have address it. Erm, when did incest become defined as nothing more than a kiss? You'd have to do a lot more than that to qualify for the dictionary definition of incest. Now, I understand that there's certainly a squicky quality to seeing a brother and sister kiss, but it's fairly obvious that Leia's not even thinking of Luke; just trying to rile up Han, and there's hardly any of what you might call sexual tension between the two siblings. In plenty of cultures, kissing is a normal way of expressing familial affection. Not our culture so much, but if you compare the brother-sister kiss with any of Han and Leia's kisses, well, it's pretty obvious where the tension is. If you want to be grossed out by true incest, just read any ancient mythology. Luke and Leia's kiss will seem pretty chaste in comparison.
4. Midichlorians are too scientific!
< sarcasm >Yes, of course. Unseen lifeforms that use some mystic form of communciation to talk to their hosts, that's straight out of a biology textbook.< /sarcasm > And um, listen to Qui-Gon's speech just a little closer. Midichlorians do not equal the Force. They're a conduit. The Force is just as mystical and fantastic as ever it was.
5. Too many special effects, not enough plot
Hmm. This may be too subjective to offer a definitive analysis, but I find the special effects in the prequels to be nicely subdued, a proper background for the story. Granted, the podrace and the Coruscant chase scene are a bit overlong, but they're not just flash and bang - they contribute important plot points, as well as characterization. With some exceptions, the special effects consist mostly of backdrops, scenery for exotic worlds that can't be simulated by any real place on Earth. So they use computers to help create the scenery, but the point is to make it convincing enough that it doesn't distract from what's actually going on in the scene. I could point out plenty of other movies that use special effects with much less discretion, much more to make the audiences ooh and aah rather than to actually tell a story *coughthematrixcough* but I don't want to get into a major comparison war. Suffice it to say, I was pleased in general with the balance of spectacle versus storytelling in the prequels.
6. There should have been a Han Solo character in the prequels
Why? If you're so fond of his character, just re-watch the original trilogy. The point of the prequels was not rehash everything that had already been done; it was exploring new territory. Introducing a veritable clone of Han would have been pointless. Was there a need for a Solo-ish character in the prequels, to add a dose of cynicism? I don't think so. Han Solo represents the self-serving, pessismistic, mercenary sort of character that the Empire has bred, someone who doesn't trust the way of the Jedi because the Emperor has done very well to discredit it, someone who doesn't believe in altruism and optimism because, well, look where that got the Republic. Such a mindset would have been much less common during the era of the Republic. On another level, Han works in the original trilogy because of his interactions with his counterparts; the naive farmboy and the crusading princess. Neither of those characters appears in any major form in the prequels. Anakin is different from Luke; he dreams of freeing slaves, not becoming a heroic member of the Rebellion. Padmé is not the equivalant of Leia, in spite of all their similarities. Leia has developed a certain caustic, spitfire nature after her time spent warring with other Senators in an increasingly defunct Imperial Senate. Padmé, while certainly far from mild-mannered, is from a more genteel era. She would not much enjoy bantering with a Han Solo type. No, a character like Han Solo would be entirely out of place in the prequels. But then, maybe that's what people dislike about them. They consider Han the most interesting and compelling character of original trilogy, and are subsequently disappointed whenever someone of a different sort takes precedence.
7. ROTJ emasculated Han Solo
Hmm. That's a rather disconcerting claim. Where is Han in Episode VI? He's not a cynical mercenary anymore. He's become more selfless, more inclinced to serve a worthy cause, willing to sacrifice for his friends and for his ideals. He's no longer the type to shoot first and ask questions never. And this, apparently, strips him of his manhood? On the contrary, these behaviors are the sort that demand great courage, inner strength, true manhood. But I'm not surprise that my definitions of manhood differ from the fanboys who reel in horror at the thought of Han waiting to be attacked before shooting back at Greedo. At the start of ROTJ he's in a very vulnerable state, needing others to rescue him where he once did the rescuing; he's blind, he doesn't know what's going on. As the movie goes on, he makes a lot more sheepish, embarrassed faces than he did in the previous movies, he's no longer devil-may-care; he allows himself to be ruffled by his doubts about Leia's affections. All of these behaviors may seem shameful to people who define masculinity as the absence of all weakness, all stereotypically feminine traits. That's just sad. I find Han in ROTJ profoundly heroic, far more attractive than in either of the previous two movies. Harrison Ford reportedly wanted his character to be killed off; he considered that the best way to solidify his heroism. But is is a much more powerful, though subtler, sacrifice to me, when he shows himself willing to give up Leia if she'd be happier with Luke. Now that makes my heart melt. And if that's how they define an emasculated man, well, give me that any day over their version of manhood.
And on a similar note....
8. The prequels have emasculated Vader
I saw that complaint almost word for word a few years back, and it made me giggle. Erm, if there's any time we know for sure that Vader/Anakin is a proper man, it's during the prequels when Padmé becomes pregnant. :P But lifting our minds out of the gutter, I acknowledge again how sad it is that people define manhood as the behavior of a petty bully, someone who responds with violence to the slightest undermining of his authority and has no forgiveness for anyone's mistakes, murdering without remorse. Vader, I would submit, is not cool. He's pathetic. This is evidently true from the orignal trilogy, without the context of the prequels. In the famous "I find your lack of faith disturbing" scene, we all cheer to see the slimy Imperial officer put in his place. But take a look at his face after Vader releases him. He's not frightened, appalled, his eyes full of a horrified realization. He's still contemptuous. Probably he'll step more carefully around Vader from now on, but you can just see him thinking, "He tricked me somehow. He rigged something to make it feel like he was using that 'force' to choke me, but I know better." Acts of violence don't convert people to believe in the Force, nor do they do anything to force Vader's underlings to believe in him. They fear him, but they do not have true admiration or respect for him. He's become so embittered after losing his friends, his love, but he can't regain them with the viciousness that has become his nature. To paraphrase Leia's words to Tarkin - the more he tightens his grip, the more slips through his fingers. He has nothing, he keeps grasping to hold on to something, but it never works. Beneath the imposing armor and mask, he's weak. The prequels only contradict an awe-filled view of Vader if that's what you had to start with. If you were able to see through Vader's bravado to the pathetic man beneath, the prequels serve to show how he fell to that place. A teenaged Anakin, plagued by self-doubts, struggling between his conflicting desires and his sometimes successful, sometimes failed attempts to do the right thing, is still a stronger man than Vader. And if he could have properly endured the process of the hero's journey, he could have been like Luke, strong and admirable in his ability to love and discern goodness, not the ability to strangle people for increasingly petty reasons. (If this hasn't bored you yet, read my essay on Saga Journal for more ramblings on the varied forms of masculinity between Vader and Luke.)
I could think of lots more, but my daughter isn't going to let me keep writing much longer, so I'll have to finish for now.
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Date: 2007-06-14 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-15 03:34 pm (UTC)