Revenge of the Sith
May. 20th, 2005 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coalescentRevenge of the Sith is one of the most frustrating films I have seen in some time, because it is not disappointing in the same ways that The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones were disappointing. Those films, especially the former, disappointed the most not because the dialogue was so risible, or because the acting was so laughable, but because even once you cut through all the junk they did not, at heart, seem to have a worthy story to tell.
The same cannot be said of Revenge of the Sith. The story here is meaningful, and that applies to the large-scale, the Fall of the Republic, as much as it does to the personal tragedy of Anakin Skywalker. "So this," notes one character, "is how liberty dies--with thunderous applause." It is exactly the sort of moment that the first two films, which had ambitions to the same sort of widescreen drama, lacked. And this does not excuse them; Lucas did not need to produce films that baggy or that absurdly overcomplicated to move his pieces into position. Still, at the start of Sith they are all in position, and at its best that is why the film succeeds: because we know the dominoes will fall.
And this is also where the frustration comes in, because the film is at its worst when the reason for the fall should be simple dramatic inevitability, but has the feel of authorial fiat. And that, sadly, is once again down to the writing. The acting is bad too, but it's hard to criticise Ewan MacGregor too much for failing to make his lines deliverable, or to criticise Natalie Portman for failing to appear anything less than pathetically passive when almost all the plot allows Padme to do is to stand around waiting to give birth. Moreover, there are a few moments--too few--when Lucas trusts his visuals enough to just let us watch them, and for those moments it has to be said that it works. There is a scene in which Anakin and Padme, each alone but in the other's thoughts, look out over different views of the same city. It is as melodramatic as Star Wars has ever been, but for once it's the right kind of melodrama, and more effective than a hundred teeth-grindingly bad declarations of love.
If the film started well but ended badly that would be one thing; and if it started badly but ended well that would be another. But the good in Revenge of the Sith is mixed unpredictably with the bad, right up until the end, when it becomes clear, in a moment of striking cognitive dissonance, that the personality behind Vader's mask remains that of a petulant teenager. This despite the fact that some of the good is genuinely good: the slaughter of the Jedi, the declaration of Empire, the final, brutal fight between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Watching the details of the saga finally knit together.
There is a sense, as I said, as there conspicuously wasn't in the first two films, that this is a story that matters, and that inspires a certain amount of goodwill. The problem with the story is almost entirely that Lucas doesn't know how to tell it. He knows where the big beats lie, but apparently has no idea how to move from one to the next. There is no better illustration of this than the relationship between Anakin and Palpatine. You can see, from the glimpses Lucas can give, that the way Palpatine plays with Anakin's loyalties is devious and effective; but you never quite feel it. Like so much else in the film, it is a case of so close, and yet so far, far away.
The same cannot be said of Revenge of the Sith. The story here is meaningful, and that applies to the large-scale, the Fall of the Republic, as much as it does to the personal tragedy of Anakin Skywalker. "So this," notes one character, "is how liberty dies--with thunderous applause." It is exactly the sort of moment that the first two films, which had ambitions to the same sort of widescreen drama, lacked. And this does not excuse them; Lucas did not need to produce films that baggy or that absurdly overcomplicated to move his pieces into position. Still, at the start of Sith they are all in position, and at its best that is why the film succeeds: because we know the dominoes will fall.
And this is also where the frustration comes in, because the film is at its worst when the reason for the fall should be simple dramatic inevitability, but has the feel of authorial fiat. And that, sadly, is once again down to the writing. The acting is bad too, but it's hard to criticise Ewan MacGregor too much for failing to make his lines deliverable, or to criticise Natalie Portman for failing to appear anything less than pathetically passive when almost all the plot allows Padme to do is to stand around waiting to give birth. Moreover, there are a few moments--too few--when Lucas trusts his visuals enough to just let us watch them, and for those moments it has to be said that it works. There is a scene in which Anakin and Padme, each alone but in the other's thoughts, look out over different views of the same city. It is as melodramatic as Star Wars has ever been, but for once it's the right kind of melodrama, and more effective than a hundred teeth-grindingly bad declarations of love.
If the film started well but ended badly that would be one thing; and if it started badly but ended well that would be another. But the good in Revenge of the Sith is mixed unpredictably with the bad, right up until the end, when it becomes clear, in a moment of striking cognitive dissonance, that the personality behind Vader's mask remains that of a petulant teenager. This despite the fact that some of the good is genuinely good: the slaughter of the Jedi, the declaration of Empire, the final, brutal fight between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Watching the details of the saga finally knit together.
There is a sense, as I said, as there conspicuously wasn't in the first two films, that this is a story that matters, and that inspires a certain amount of goodwill. The problem with the story is almost entirely that Lucas doesn't know how to tell it. He knows where the big beats lie, but apparently has no idea how to move from one to the next. There is no better illustration of this than the relationship between Anakin and Palpatine. You can see, from the glimpses Lucas can give, that the way Palpatine plays with Anakin's loyalties is devious and effective; but you never quite feel it. Like so much else in the film, it is a case of so close, and yet so far, far away.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 10:30 am (UTC)it is a case of so close, and yet so far, far away.
I bet you've been planning that line for ages.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-20 10:38 am (UTC)