Digital Overtone

Rarely has a movie been met with lower expectations or higher acclaim than Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Rarely have I heard more starkly opposed reviews from people whose opinions I respect. Before moving on to anything critical, I will preface this review with a couple things to keep in mind. First, I really enjoyed watching this movie. It is visually spectacular. Second (and perhaps more importantly in the context of what follows), expecting much out of Star Wars apart from visual excitement is asking a lot. I know this, but I went in expecting anyway.

To their enormous credit, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, and Hayden Christensen—all talented actors to varying degrees—are able to elevate the truly rock bottom material they were handed to something moderately watchable. Revenge of the Sith earned far fewer sustained groans than either of its recent predecessors. To quell any accusations of damning with faint praise, it was their contribution that spared this script from becoming the train wreck it was on paper. Portman’s role was at last upgraded to something more than "hot chick with political opinions", and was finally able to lend some of her underrated talent to the establishment of at least one intelligent, emotionally deep character (Dear Natalie Portman: If you will kindly stick to independent film from now on, I would really appreciate it). Christensen was likewise able to lend his talents to the role that seems to come most naturally to him: the angry teenager. What is unfortunate is merely that Anakin is not a teenager and that the words he is given to speak are not the words of a man of his stature and upbringing. McGregor is happily employed to more than just comic relief (R2-D2 steps into that role confidently), and his final, deliciously ironic, words to Anakin are delivered with the weight they deserve. It is one of the best moments in the film. Overall everyone does the best they can with what they are given. No one will remember them for these movies, and for that they can be thankful.

The contribution of John Williams, on the other hand, was nothing short of a grave disappointment. The scores of Star Wars are typically orders of magnitude superior to the script and direction, but Williams on this occasion delivered little more than recycled trash. Repetition of material is, of course, crucial to the mythic, Wagnerian tone he has attempted to strike from the beginning, but there was nothing leitmotivic about this score. Nothing important was foreshadowed, nothing new was revealed in the music. The operatic quality of Star Wars demands that the score become another character, on a par with the heroes and heroines of the tale. For Episode III, Williams delivered a particularly sub-par performance of his usual aggressively brass-heavy fare, often as emotionally empty as the rest of the film, and much less adventurous. What could have been masterful and should have demanded attention became mere ear-candy, if it was heard at all; it cannot begin to hold a candle to the masterful sounds of Howard Shore’s Lord of the Rings.

The most egregious faults in this film were the considerable opportunities Lucas squandered to finally move his audience, to lift his story to the universal, to return to the mythology that earned Star Wars its cult following in the first place. Instead of delivering a wise, insightful Yoda, whose deeply philosophical faith in The Force could provide the groundwork for rich thematic and mythological content, Lucas delivers a shockingly obtuse and occasionally entertaining puppet (with a frustratingly mannered syntax) whose ostensible function is to furrow his brow, agree with people, and make occasionally cryptic, if blindingly obvious, observations. The overwhelmingly sinister Count Dooku finds his role reduced to having various body parts chopped off in the first 10 minutes. Chancellor/Emperor Palpatine was situated perfectly to become one of the most darkly seductive villains in the history of storytelling, taking advantage a man’s love for his family to lure him to the Dark Side. Instead his role was to be alternately transparently manipulative and transparently deceitful, to be always condescending, and to use his Scary Voice™. Way. too. much. On the positive side, he did get to show us the full power of the Dark Side, which apparently is shooting lightning out of your hands and still more or less losing to a small green alien.

I believed going in that even as reliably unsteady a hand as Lucas’s could have treated Anakin’s fall with more delicacy than the thin glossing over it received. If anything, Lucas’s treatment only serves to demonstrate that he still expected us to think of Anakin Skywalker is a little boy. In his best moments he is a brave, eager little boy, but in his worst (and far more frequent) moments he is an impetuous, adolescent, sullen child who cannot think for himself, possesses all the self-awareness of a corn muffin, and who understands nothing of respect, relationships, or the world despite years of earning it, having them, and saving it. Lucas reduces the potentially compelling (and heartbreaking) story of a man torn between his ideals and his uncompromising love for his wife, and fear for her well-being, into an unsatisfying and second-rate tale about power and moral absolutism. Anakin has never been made to demonstrate that he is emotionally capable of love, only of juvenile, impulsive selfishness. His ideals are flimsy, and his arc is therefore an emotional void. His imminent turn to the Dark Side is ever pounding away at the viewer, but he himself is not self-aware enough to recognize that he is being manipulated over and over again, much less being led down a path he didn’t intend. His insubstantial ideals are never in such high relief as in the uncharacteristically lucid moment when it dawns on him that the Chancellor is in fact the Sith Lord (oh noes!) and his horror is only as abject as his unreserved capitulation to e-vil is absolute mere hours later. After a little child slaughter to whet his new evil appetite, Skywalker is content to almost murder his beloved wife—supposedly the woman for whom to turned to the dark side in the first place— and his best friend and mentor. I suppose in Lucas’s mind his occasionally yellow eyes and the anger he should have outgrown tell us everything we need to know. I found it more than a little childish.

The saving grace of this movie was the reputation which preceded it, and the technical mastery it has to offer. The most oft-repeated review I heard before seeing it myself was: "It was better than the first two." Of course it was—it could hardly have been worse!—and if that is not damning with faint praise, I don’t know what is. I admit I had higher hopes for my culture, as we have seen how far being impressed by Presidents people things that surpass our low expectations has gotten us. At best this movie is entertaining eye candy. Be prepared to be floored by the terrible dialogue and the confusing direction. Be prepared to be impressed by the visual virtuosity. Expect to be entertained and to enjoy it. Do not expect redemption. You will be sorely disappointed.

Posted by Kyle / criticism and film