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Juxtaposition might just be my favorite storytelling technique. To place two dramatically different things alongside each other, creating meaning in the contrast. And in the saga, it shows up perhaps nowhere more strongly than the final two scenes of Episode II. We just examined the Grand Army of the Republic, a vast force on its way to spreading throughout the entire galaxy. From there we transition directly to this shot.



Huh? There's not even any people in it. Just a distant hill, a tree and flowers. All symbols of pure, undisturbed nature. The serene surface of the lake. But also -- a setting sun. And clouds creeping across the hill. The serenity is nearing an end.

Then we get a wider shot, revealing a tableaux recognizable in almost any culture.


No words are necessary. Watch the progression of the ceremony in a few simple shots.





Taking each other's hands is a clear symbol of joining together as a couple, but also a striking image of Padmé accepting Anakin's mechanical hand, thus also accepting the darker parts of him. And this kiss is a bookend for the interrupted kiss in the same location. All told without words, without any need for further explanation.

Simple and brief -- yet in comparison to the scene we just left in the capital, it's a long, indulgent lingering on tiny little details. Naturally the mobilization of a galactic army would deserve attention. Why is the same, even more, time spent on a wedding? Two measly people. Only two witnesses, of the lowest class (droids are basically the servant caste, y'know.)



What's the big deal about this couple, anyway? Why should it matter?


If you're familiar with the later episodes, then of course you know. Anakin's going to become the fearsome right hand of the Emperor, and their children will be the only hope for the galaxy. And here's where I really, really love the message of Star Wars. This juxtaposition of mighty armies in space alongside quiet intimate relationships is going to show up again in the final showdown of Episode VI, and what a powerful contrast it is. The space battle is thrilling and all, but it is nothing, nothing at all next to the battle for Luke's soul. It is that battle that really matters, and in turn the battle for Anakin's soul.

You see, the decisive factor in the galaxy's fate is not Star Destroyers or masses of stormtroopers. It's a family. A broken, lost family that finds healing, and overcomes evil with the power of faith and love.




Just as Anakin and Padmé look out to an uncertain future, with their love as the only sure thing in their lives, their children will stand together, facing terrible uncertainties but steady in their support of each other. And they will save the galaxy. It all starts here.

Next time, the start of Episode III!

Anakin's solo duel with Dooku doesn't last long, but there's some very striking images that show up in that short time. It's edited in a rather unique way, with more emphasis on faces than action. That may have been partly a function of Christopher Lee being too old for action shots; still I think it led to some fascinating choices.



In this first shot, we don't even see their weapons. The conflict here is much more mental/psychological than physical.



Another interesting choice. Anakin briefly wields two sabers, providing an evocative three-color battle. Is it significant that he loses the green saber, and the blue saber ultimately fails to protect him? There's a lot of different symbolism you could infer, depending on what you think those colors represent.


This, on the other hand, is pretty clear-cut to me. By extinguishing the lights, Anakin creates an eerie shadow world where the only illumination is the gleam of sabers, and his face is alternately lit by blue and red.

Inner conflict, you see. Dooku's face is only ever illuminated by his own red saber.



Almost total darkness, as if the rest of the world has faded and all that remains is this single point of conflict.

Well, I've already put up a mountain of pixels for this duel, so we'll finish with a single delightful shot that reminds us of how appearances can be deceiving:



Who is casting that long, threatening shadow? Surely a fearsome opponent. And indeed it is. We never see Yoda quite the same way after his duel with Dooku. But now let's move on.

Next time, an ominous birth...

As the battle rages, it happens that our heroic trio are in the transport best positioned to follow Count Dooku. Alas, they're out of weapons and Dooku directs his minions to attack the transport. So this mishap occurs:


Another long fall from a high place, just like in the droid factory. (I admit this shot looks a little more comical. Whoops-a-daisy!)


We see Padmé stir slightly so we're assured that she's still alive, but definitely unconscious. Anakin is understandably distressed, and ready to fling himself to her rescue just as before. (With perhaps just as disastrous results.)


It's a fairly natural gesture, reaching toward her in desperation. But doesn't it bear a chilling resemblance to the choking grip that will become Vader's signature move -- first used upon Padmé herself? Shudder. The irony is so painful. In his zeal to protect her, he loses his goodness, his ability to love, and ends up endangering her himself.

That's one bit of foreshadowing. Here's another. Anakin's terror at Padmé's peril throws all his other priorities out the window. He and Obi-Wan have a shouting match, he declares that he doesn't care if he's expelled from the Order, he only wants to save Padmé -- and what brings him back from the brink? Padmé herself, or at least her sense of moral duty.


A simple pose, but that lowered head marks the shift from frenzied rebellion to sober resignation. This war of ideals, playing out among the three of them, will reach its tragic conclusion on Mustafar. For now it's more of a stalemate.

Not that Anakin is easy and content with his current decision to follow his duty. We'll see that in the next segment....

This is how a war begins.

It's just a rescue mission, a contingent of peacekeeping Jedi sent to extract two of their own and an influential Senator who have been unjustly convicted.



Just a few Jedi...


Or maybe a small army...


But look at the army the Geonosians are deploying! It's completely justified.



By the time the dust clears, the original three prisoners versus three monsters has ballooned to hundreds. And the Jedi rescuers need a bit of a rescue themselves.


So...here comes the cavalry, just in the nick of time!



And now all our heroes are safely out of the arena, so that's it, right?


Umm, no. The Geonosians are hardly going to ignore all that heavy artillery directed at their home planet. The escalation will continue. We'll look at some more of those images next time....

Hello there! Been a while, hasn't it? I'll be happy to get back to making screencaps on my own computer in two weeks, but I'll manage with one little pic this time.

Another of my favorite Anakin/Padmé scenes, whose foreshadowing dialogue I have analyzed to the tiniest detail. The imagery is just as prophetic. They stand in the shadows, awaiting their death. Together, yet kept apart by their bonds. Their eventual deaths (and here I speak of Anakin's symbolic death as he transforms into Vader) will in fact happen together, connected by spiritual threads but hopelessly apart from each other.

And as they enter the arena, pledging their love in the face of death, they become nothing but silhouettes, a shadow play against the backdrop of a stark, unfeeling landscape.



Gives me shivers. I love these movies.

Next time, a bit of punniness to lighten to mood....

In spite of grousing to the contrary, the political elements in the prequels are presented with economic brevity. Each of the films has just one scene taking place in the massive Senate chamber (not counting deleted scenes), and each scene is one step forward in Palpatine's plan to ultimately dissolve the governing body and attain totalitarian rule. Let's look at some images from the sequence in Episode II.


Here we are offered a visual of the uneasy relationship between the Jedi Order and the Senate, which will be strained past the breaking point in the next episode. They sit high above the masses, peering downward as if from an entirely separate and perhaps superior class. How does a collection of super-powered beings coexist peacefully with the more ordinary beings? The Jedi managed to navigate that challenge successfully for some time, but the balance has been thrown off, by distrust and division on both sides.


Jar Jar, bless his trusting heart, is so easily manipulated by Palpatine and his advisors. A mere suggestion that Senator Amidala would gladly propose the amendment, if only she were there...and look at how proud Representative Binks is, so sure that he's done the right thing.


And why shouldn't he trust the Chancellor? Look at how sincere he looks, how genuinely weighed down by this burden of responsibility and determined to use his powers for good. Not the slightest hint of Palpatine's true nature. A master of deception.

Well, I'm going to be out of town for the next month or so, and I've decided not to drive myself crazy trying to get up a post every single week. Next week I'm without wi-fi, so there will definitely be a break. After that it might be spotty. We'll see. But I'll definitely be back at the end of August. The next post, we'll be looking at some delightfully creepy imagery of the subconscious.....

A message from Obi-Wan provides the impetus that will ultimately lead to the film's climax, like the first domino to start the cascade. His investigation has yielded quite a bit of information, but the most crucial bit comes in a nonverbal revelation -- the attacker who cuts short Obi-Wan's report.



It's quite fitting that it comes with Padmé's reaction. She was the one whose planet was plagued by these same destroyers ten years ago. You can see the horrified recognition on her face, the memory of war and death. She knows exactly what that droid means. And so it is she who takes action, ignoring Mace Windu's edict to stay where they are. Her insistence on going to the rescue gives Anakin a convenient loophole, as well as a reason to smile for the first time since losing his mother.



So much of his feelings for Padmé have been drenched in angst, it's nice to have this moment of pure admiration and joy. It's also a fulfillment of Captain Typho's worry that Padmé could do something even more rash than Anakin. She might have the appearance of the sensible, mature leader, but in her heart she's just as prone to recklessness when it comes to those she cares about. And no wonder Anakin loves her for it.

Next time, a circling predator....

And now for the confession scene.

Throughout this sequence, the positioning of the two characters provides us with a physical manifestation of their emotional push and pull. We start with Padmé facing Anakin while he looks away, his back to the audience. Our first look at him isn't even his face, it's his hand, struggling to fix something.



Then we pan up to his face, so stiff that you might mistake it for a lack of emotion if you don't look closer.


He pulls way, still unable to face her, still suppressing his emotions.


Finally, after some emotion escapes in the form of anger, a bit of violence, Anakin stares at his hand as if recalling the far worse violence he just perpetrated.

Padmé knows Anakin too well; she sees there is something more than grief here.

The confession. His voice gets more and more angry as he overtly expresses his violence and hatred. And yet...there are tears in his eyes. He is not exulting in this. The force of his hatred terrifies him. His grief, a feeling he was told not to experience, has no proper outlet and no way to be processed.


Not that Lucas intends to mitigate the horror of what he did. Padmé is an avatar for the audience in this closeup on her growing dismay.


But Anakin's rage dissolves as fast as it came, and he literally sinks down, into misery and self-loathing.


Watch Padmé struggle with what to do.

She does not condone the massacre by any means. But she knows that it came from unbearable pain and the inability to cope with that pain. Pain needs compassion. So she offers compassion.

She sits with him. Mourns with him. Tells him he is still human.


Anakin has spent ten years starving for human connection, largely denied such a thing by his Jedi discipline. Padmé isn't confessing her love here or stupidly falling for the "bad boy" or any of the nonsense detractors have claimed. Right here, she is simply offering the basic kindness that Anakin needs to pull him from the brink of despair. Despair, after all, is what led him to this first awful brush with the Dark Side. And if only he can take hold of this kindness, he has a chance at avoiding that despair in the future.

If only...

Next, symbols at a funeral...

Darkness. Falling from a great height. Fire. Violence. Without a single word of dialogue, Lucas tells us what is about to happen by way of evocative symbols and imagery and bone-chilling foreshadowing. We're holding our breath, as it were, in anticipation of the awful moment that's coming.

In addition, there's a parallel drawn with a famous western, John Ford's "The Searchers."



A earlier mirroring showed up in Episode IV, with the burning of the Lars homestead and a similar scene from Ford's film. But this moment digs a little deeper into that western's plotline. John Wayne's character is tracking down a kidnapped niece, but it becomes increasingly clear that he's not a straightforward, admirable hero. The longer the niece is among her abductors, a Comanche tribe, the more likely she is to have been assimilated by their culture. And our "hero" is so racist that he'd rather kill her than have an Indian niece. It was a significant departure from the simplistic morality of older westerns, an exploration of how a man's obsession warps his choices into something truly monstrous. A fascinating and fitting reference for Lucas to include in Anakin's journey, and a treat for any film history fans that deepens the visual resonance of this already powerful sequence.

Next time, face acting says it all...

As Anakin embarks on a grim search for his mother, we are treated with a stunning array of evocative images. Consider first how, as Padmé comes outside to see Anakin off, we focus on their shadows rather than their true forms.





As well as evoking the famous teaser poster for Episode I, this shadow play tells a story in four parts. The lone figure. He is joined by another. She approaches him, they embrace and become one. But the real story isn't as simple as that. Seeing it in shadow form gives us a sense of distortion, of distance from reality. This is what they both yearn for, but other parts of their lives are holding them back from simple union. When we do see their actual forms, it's a long shot rather than up close -- again that sense of distance and removal -- and they quickly separate.



Then we watch with Padmé, standing still, as Anakin speeds away into an almost invisible speck.

Their closeness is shattered, a contrast of stasis and motion.

And then there's (in my opinion) the most powerful image in the film and probably the entire saga.



Once again it's a silhouette, a ghostly image without details. The backdrop of the sunset may remind us of Luke watching a similar scene -- though in this sequence Padmé is the one who provides a closer resemblance to his silent stillness rather than Anakin -- but Luke is restlessly wishing to go forward to the future, discontented with his present life. Anakin is trying to fight his way back to the past, to the childhood he lost, to the mother who is already dying.

And her words come back to us with awful clarity. You can't stop the change. Any more than you can stop the suns from setting.

Anakin can't accept that. He is fighting the setting suns, racing against them. Determined to change fate at any cost.

Next, conspiracies abound...