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It's worth noting how much of the original film involves our heroes blundering through a series of plans gone wrong. They never intended to breach the Death Star and rescue Leia; they were supposed to get to Alderaan and deliver the secret plans and connect with the Rebellion. It was only Tarkin's heavy-handed attempts at coercion and ruthless disdain for the sanctity of life, that brought the Falcon and the Death Star together.

But going by Obi-Wan's wisdom that "there's no such thing as luck," this was ultimately the best scenario. (Even if it did involve bringing R2 and the precious plans directly back into enemy territory.) Because Leia is quick-thinking enough to formulate a new strategy, once she's freed, and hence lures the Empire into chasing them to their hidden base, the only sure way to keep the Death Star in-system long enough for the Rebels to have a chance at destroying it.

And yet people think these movies are simplistic. Huh.

Anyway, this unexpected detour on the Death Star leads to one of the most poignant moments of the film, Obi-Wan and Vader's reunion. Their connection is established with rather subtle shots such as this. Even without a visible expression, Vader's introspected sense is clearly established. His underlings probably wonder if he's a little unbalanced, what with his sudden pauses and oddly trailing-off sentences, hah. But as the audience we are intrigued.

Obi-Wan has his own premonitions, and though he does not mention Vader to Luke, I suspect he's well-aware of him from the moment they arrive at the Death Star. His heartfelt goodbye to his would-be apprentice is full of meaning that Luke might not now understand. But someday he will.

Next, varying levels of competence...
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The planet-sized explosion cuts directly to this. Kind of an abrupt shift, until you see Ben reacting to something with almost physical pain. Luke notices and hurries to check on him, upon which we hear the old Jedi describe the awful sense of "millions of voices" being suddenly silenced.

This imagery and dialogue serves several purposes. First of all, we learn that a Jedi can be so in tune with the Force that tremendous tragedies like the destruction of Alderaan can be sensed even light years away. And second, we get a moment to process the weighty enormity of what just happened, through the emotional response of Obi-Wan and Luke. We could have just witnessed Leia's reaction, but this broadens the tragedy. This is a horror not just for those from Alderaan, but for everyone. If you have any sense of the sanctity of life, you would grieve just like Ben does.

Next time, more long-distance emoting...
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Carrie Fisher has often related how she had to act devastated when the destruction of Leia's home planet was represented by a guy saying 'Bang!' Movies with lots of special effects have always required a little extra imagination from their actors, long before the digital age. This scene pulls it off, however. Carrie might have had to imagine the planet, but we get every image we need for the emotional punch.

First Leia is defiant and contemptuous of Tarkin. Then he declares his intentions toward Alderaan, and we cut immediately to a planet that happens to look a lot like Earth. Ooof. We're already on Leia's side, but this hits hard as we see her pleading.

We can hardly blame her for confessing the hidden base (though we find out later it's only a partial truth), and then even more brutally, Tarkin orders to destroy Alderaan anyway. Here the precise editing moves swiftly, inexorably toward the awful moment. Leia's shock, Tarkin's sneering response, a shot of a faceless solider and cold mechanical workings, the massive laser striking toward the planet, one last shot of Leia's helpless horror, and the explosion.

All of these had to be filmed separately, with little surrounding context, on soundstages or with miniatures, all the different pieces coming together to make a surprisingly coherent moment. The impact is further strengthened by the following scene, which we will cover next time, but it's already a masterful example of how to lead an audience's imagination to something that feels very real.
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While our heroes prepare to leave Tatooine, we get a glimpse of an ominous figure watching them, who seems to be in communication with an unseen collaborator. Who is this snout-nosed spy? Dunno. I'm sure expanded materials have given a name, backstory and elaborate discourses on the Snouty race.

It doesn't matter. We don't even need to understand the Snouty language spoken into the communicator. All we need is another shot of the spy with a stormtrooper, pointing obviously toward the hanger where our heroes can be found. It's a simple but effective bit of storytelling, no over-explaining or unnecessary scenes or dialogue. Just a spooky alien acting as an Imperial informant. So much for getting away from the planet unnoticed.

Next time, how to destroy a planet through editing...
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Star Wars draws its influence from a broad range of sources, everything from fairy tales to samurai legends, 1940s serials and westerns. And what's more characteristic of the classic western than a shoot-out between two bravos? So we get the Han-Greedo confrontation. I frankly don't care who "shot first;" it's really about who's the fastest draw. Clearly, that's Han.

But he's not standing alertly, hand poised obviously at his weapon. He's slouched in a corner, cleverly luring Greedo into dropping his guard. The audience gets to see Han's finger inching toward the trigger while the bounty hunter remains arrogantly ignorant. Until it's too late.

Then we get another indicator of the seediness of this locale, no dialogue necessary: the patrons briefly note the shoot-out, then return to business as usual. Dead bodies, whatever. Casual scum and villainy.

Next time, more weirdness in a city full of weirdos...
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Han Solo, and Harrison Ford with him, rocketed to such meteoric leading-man action-hero status in the decade following this first film that it's important to remember -- Han is neither the main character of Episode IV, nor even a full-fledged hero. He's a compelling character, no question, thanks in part to Ford's charismatic performance, but he's introduced as a braggadocio mercenary who drives a hard bargain. Just another example of the seedy, shady types who frequent the cantina.

Much of the entertainment we get from Han comes from the contrast with our heroes. The reaction shots of Obi-Wan and Luke are so delightful. The seasoned Jedi knows an overblown boast when he sees it. Luke, meanwhile, is disgusted with Han's greed (to be fair, a farmboy wouldn't know the going rates for chartering a flight, so maybe Han is being reasonable?) and filled with suspicion. It'll be a fun ride to watch the mercenary transform to something more promising, while his relationship with do-gooders like Luke changes dramatically. But this first look at Han shows us nothing but a profit-driven smuggler.

Next, the seediness continues...
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Happy New Year! We're over halfway through this series. How many more years do you suppose it will take to finish?

So how do you portray a place populated by utterly alien beings, a seedy location where a callow human boy will be fully out of his depth? Well, first you film a lot of actors in funny rubber masks, then look at the footage and get very disappointed by the underwhelming effect. So you arrange for a second shoot, get even more weird masks and prosthetics and and costumes and create lots more footage, then cleverly edit it all together so that the scene looks seamless.

From the first shot of an alien, accompanied by the other-worldly jazz courtesy of John Williams's genius, we know this is a long way from the quiet moisture farm where Luke was raised. Myriads of strange creatures, intercut with stunned reaction shots of Luke. It's all dimly-lit and grimy as well, and the bartender is surly and unpleasant. We also get a bit of bizarre humor with the notion that amid this wide panoply of races, droids are absolutely not wanted.

Can you tell which bits came from principle photography and which came later? I can't. That's part of the magic of filmmaking.

Next time, a non-hero slouches into the story...
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Luke returns from the wreckage of his home, his slow somber movements a direct contrast to the rush of his departure. We don't see his face right away, just a shot from behind and then his lowered head as Obi-Wan consoles him.

When he does lift his face, it reveals a steely-eyed determination. He has nothing left here; he's going with Obi-Wan to become a Jedi like his father.

Like his father.

We all know Luke is going through the steps of the hero's journey, and after a reluctant beginning he is stepping over the threshold into adventure. The image of him standing at the brink is a perfect visual for that concept. But it's significant in terms of his larger journey that he takes this step because of grief, pain, and perhaps a bit of vengeance. If we only had this one film, it wouldn't have been an issue. Luke gets his heroic moment of triumph and a happy ending. Thanks its box office success we get Episode V and VI, where we explore the -- well, dark side of Luke's motives. How being driven by fear and anger can lead to a perilous path, the same path that claimed his father. And ultimately, how to let go of hate and become a greater hero than anyone imagined.

Next time, the wretched hive...
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The interrogation scene aboard the Death Star has only one line. The visuals say everything else.

The corridor is a dark and narrow, made even tighter as Vader and the two guards fill the entire space. We cut to Leia's lonely figure in her cell. Notice how we then get glimpses of her behind Vader, with the forced perspective creating the illusion that she's even smaller than reality.

Vader comes to loom over her and speak his line. They will "discuss" the location of the Rebel base. All this time, an ominous probe has been creeping closer, but it becomes truly prominent when Leia's gaze shifts from Vader to the orb. We don't have to know the exact purpose of every nasty little tool; we can imagine well enough. Another closeup of Leia's frightened face, then Vader, then a final forced perspective shot with the probe nearly large enough to blot out Leia completely.

And then the door slides shut, leaving everything else to our imagination. We follow a guard down the hall, in a curious pan from the boots upward. The relentless march of the Empire, perhaps? In any case, this heightens the tension far more tightly than a prolonged, explicit torture scene. We know what's happening.

Next, the threshold into the hero's journey...
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After Luke realizes the stormtroopers must have tracked droids to his aunt and uncle, we see him rush back to the homestead with an urgent rendition of the Force theme that builds to a crescendo as he arrives. Alas. The tragedy unfolds before his eyes, the billowing smoke and a painful pan to the remains of his family.

Luke's reaction is shown briefly but poignantly. We don't need a ten-minute sequence or lots of words or closeups of his face. Just this and this. A long shot of the tragic scene gives us a final image of devastation.

Next, more story through images alone...
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I was occupied with Thanksgiving all day yesterday, so here's a post a day later! Let's look at the first scene aboard the Death Star.

We've seen the brute strength of the Empire, represented by stormtroopers and the imposing presence of Darth Vader. Now we get a look at the administrative side of things. Don't be fooled by the apparent mundanity. This is where men in crisp uniforms sit around a table and coldly discuss how to keep an entire galaxy in thrall. Later on in the saga we'll meet the Emperor and his over-the-top, cackling exultation in evil, but these men are villains too, make no mistake of it. The sort of evil that takes the form of committees and bureaucracy, following orders and ticking off checklists while human lives are at stake.

Next time, grief in powerful understatement...
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With all the backstory we were given with the prequels, it can be easy to forget that this film gave us our first look at Obi-Wan Kenobi as an old hermit living in obscurity. Consider the work Alec Guinness would have needed to put in as an actor, to create a sense of Ben's history. And look at how fantastically he pulls it off.

At the first mention of his original name, we get this Look on his face. Yes, powerful enough to warrant the capital letter. Combined with the music cue, it's enough give us chills.

This evocation of long-ago history continues throughout Luke's visit to Ben's house, with more wonderful expressions. Not even Lucas had fully fleshed out the backstory at this early stage in the saga (how could he anticipate that he'd have the chance to expand his vision into six entire films!) yet these moments still work in retrospect, because Guinness imbues them with so much pathos and meaning and untold stories.

Next time, a glimpse at the banality of evil...
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The world of Tatooine has already been revealed as a perilous place for droids. It's not too safe for a human either, particularly a solitary, inexperienced young man. The Tusken Raider attack on Luke is quick and decisive. He's knocked out almost immediately, and the sandpeople start looting. Interestingly, we are now given a second scene that's framed within Artoo's perspective. From his hiding place he watches and electronically whimpers, until an eerie noise scares away even the brutal Tuskens. What could possibly be terrifying enough to frighten them?

Artoo cowers as the mysterious figure approaches. It almost looks like a gigantic Jawa. It's approaching Luke, lying helplessly unconscious. Oh no, it's going to do something to him!

But wait -- the hood is drawn down, and suddenly we see a friendly old man's face. He speaks to the frightened Artoo as if to a child, reassuring and kind. By the time Luke wakes up, we're already assured that he's in good hands. Then we learn this is Ben Kenobi himself. Things are going to get interesting.

Next time, the face of distant memories...
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On paper, it's not much. Luke goes outside. The suns are setting. He looks at them. Then he turns around and leaves.

But those images. His lone figure against the stark landscape, the expression on his face, the combination of the familiar and the alien with a binary sunset, the simple motion of Luke bowing his head before looking up again....they all combine to make one of the most memorable, evocative scenes in the saga. Of course we must also acknowledge the power of John Williams's sweeping score, overlaying the images with wistfulness, yearning and dreams deferred.

Next time, deceiving appearances...
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I will always maintain that the original Star Wars could have used more female characters. As revolutionary as Princess Leia is, she stands almost alone amidst as sea of men. Who else? Just Aunt Beru, a static maternal figure with only a handful of lines. The film transcends a lot of the features of its time period, but the (lack of) female representation is not one of those features. I do give Lucas credit for recognizing and correcting this in later films.

Anyway. As minuscule a role as Beru plays, I want to highlight her (or the actress, Shelagh Fraser) in the dinner scene. She does a lot with very few words. Throughout Luke's conversation with his uncle, we cut repeatedly to her face. It gives us strong hints that Owen isn't saying the whole truth, that he and Beru know something more about Ben/Obi-Wan Kenobi or Luke's father, that perhaps there's an entire wordless conversation happening between the couple.

After Luke leaves we get an actual spoken exchange, brief but very meaningful. Beru wants to let Luke follow his dreams, knowing he'll never be a farmer. She's warm and loving and insightful about how Luke's parentage is a part of him. Owen's terse reply gains a lot of extra meaning after Episode V, of course, but it's still very potent thanks to the quiet emphasis on face acting in this scene.

Next time, how to make an iconic image...
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The garage where Luke grudgingly begins his droid-cleaning chores is grungy, dark and drab. It looks used and lived-in, one of the features of the film that differentiated it from the usual sterile, spotless look of most sci-fi cinema that preceded it. This look only further emphasizes the mundane life that Luke feels trapped in, the very opposite of the "bright center to the universe."

Then a sudden flash of brightness literally throws him backward in shock.

A brilliant image that, for Luke, represents all the wonders of the galaxy that he longs to behold. Mysterious, beautiful, speaking a cryptic message that's sure to heighten Luke's curiosity and sympathy. Artoo is very clever to use this little snippet to pique Luke's interest, ultimately convincing him to remove his restraining bolt. He seems to know exactly what will motivate this reckless farmboy.

This is one of those iconic images and phrases. A miniature blue-tinged Princess Leia, pleading for Obi-Wan's help as her only hope. It combines strange, futuristic technology with classic fairy tale tropes, putting something familiar in an entirely new context. And our callow hero's life is about to change forever.

Next time, facial expressions speak what words cannot...
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The droids are providing our narrative through-line, so we meet Luke when they do. His introduction isn't filled with much fanfare -- in the first glimpse of him, he's barely even visible in the distance coming up the stairs. Of course it's worth comparing/contrasting with the first entrance of Anakin in Episode I, who also doesn't show up until the narrative brings us to Tatooine, and who enters coming down a set of stairs, the inverse of his son.

Even in this quick moment, though, we get hints of Luke's personality. When his aunt calls for him, not only does this supply his name, it also shows Luke's youthful energy. It's quickly clear that he has a restlessness, an instinctive straining against the confines of a simple farm life. And how much can you blame him considering the bleak view of their moisture farm? It's vast, desolate, dusty, drab.

Next time, a startling flash to break the monotony...
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We're all aware that one of the most peculiar and daring narrative choices in Episode IV is to follow a pair of lowly droids, rather than the human heroes, for a significant portion of the movie. Even more daring is that one of those droids doesn't speak a recognizable language at all. The excellent sound effects devised by Ben Burtt do give us a sense of emotion and personality from Artoo, but it's still essentially non-verbal.

When he separates from Threepio on Tatooine, we're treated to a sequence that has no dialogue whatsoever. Artoo chirps and beeps; the strange desert scavengers speak a harsh language with no subtitles. Yet we never need to worry about being lost, because the images tells us everything we need.

The lonely droid trundles along through a canyon. The stark, desolate landscape shows us how alone and vulnerable Artoo is. The camera angle, meanwhile, gives us a sense of someone spying on the droid, which is confirmed by this eerie shot. Nothing visible of the face except glowing eyes. The suspense heightens as Artoo warily proceeds, cutting between shots of the droid, the landscape, and the glowing eyes. We don't know what this being is or why it would prey on Artoo, but we know enough to be worried for him.

Then, pow! The creature leaps out and shoots Artoo, with what we recognize as the electronic version of the stun that took out Princess Leia. We watch the helpless droid being conveyed by a whole pack of the creatures, taken to a formidable vehicle, fitted with some kind of mechanism, and lifted away into the belly of the metal beast.

The poignant tale of a little droid's capture, all without a word of discernible dialogue. That's the genius of these films.

Next time, a hero emerges....
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The Dark Lord looms menacingly over the princess. Yet rather than cowering and trembling, Leia launches into a self-assured harangue. She almost looks like a disappointed parent, which is pretty rich considering what we know about this pair. Vader's threatening presence is still considerable, but it's remarkable how Leia stands before him as a formidable opponent rather than a victim.

Next, the power of visual, dialogue-free storytelling...
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In case we had any doubts about the extent of Vader's brutal villainy, we get this shot of him. Not only vicious, but astonishingly powerful. Just in case we missed how imposing the Dark Lord's stature is, we even get a look at the height difference, right before Vader flings poor Captain Antilles into the wall. Yikes.

It's visually quite striking that we then switch back to Leia, whose slight, delicate frame in robes of white is set up as a perfect contrast to the bad guy. Yet she defies expectations by proving herself quite capable with a blaster -- still a decided contrast, using the power of grace and finesse rather than blunt force.

Unfortunately outnumbered as she is, she can't fend off her enemies forever. (This is, incidentally, the first and only time we see the effect of a stun.) Next time, more contrasts...

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