(Credits once more so that no one sues me: This film was directed by Irvin Kershner, story by George Lucas, screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett, produced by George Lucas. 20th Century Fox, 1980. Starring Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher.)
Han and Leia come to Cloud City. Everything here looks very natural. Nothing screams, "We're in a science fiction/fantasy movie!" The citizens wear clothing that looks like something we could wear someday, and they stand around in the background just doing things that normal people do--walking from here to there, having conversations, and so on. It gives the film a look that doesn't age instantly. Of all the movies, Empire is the one that has aged the least. It doesn't look like it was made in the 1970s or 1980s. It looks like it was made in a time outside of time. At the danger of sounding pretentious, I'll stop there. Then Threepio discovers something he shouldn't have and is blown into pieces. Threepio is so non-threatening that anyone who destroys him for seeing something must have a dark agenda, and his dismantling shows us quickly that coming here was a bad idea for the heroes, and that Luke's visions of them suffering were not unfounded.
Leia's upset for many reasons. She doesn't trust Lando, she's worried that Threepio's disappearance could mean trouble for them, and she's also upset that when the ship's ready, Han will take her back to the rebellion and then leave her: "Then you're as good as gone." This statement explains why she left Han on the ship when they were kissing. Then Chewie arrives with a disassembled Threepio, and Lando invites them to dinner. I can't remember my first experience with this movie, but I imagine that first-timers would get a sudden dread of foreboding just before the door opens to reveal Vader. Chewie gives a terrific roar while Han tries to shoot Vader. Of course, you can't shoot Vader. He'll just block the bolts with the Force and telekinetically pull your blaster away from you. Which is exactly what he does to Han. Lando reveals he had no choice but to help the Imperials and is sorry, to which Han replies, "I'm sorry too." Sorry for coming here? Sorry for trusting Lando? Sorry that Lando was put into a tricky situation? All three? Lando is who Han was at the beginning of the last movie, making the best choices to suit himself. The difference here is that Lando also has his city to think about; he's not completely selfish. As he says to Han early on, he has to be a responsible business leader. From that perspective, his betrayal is acceptable--he saves the lives and freedom of everyone in his city, which he has a responsibility to do. Nevertheless, he still betrayed the friend who came to him for help, and he sold him out so that Vader could draw the real target to the city. Perhaps Lando should not have allowed Han to land on the city, forcing his friend to go elsewhere out of the Empire's reach. But, Lando's human and makes very human mistakes and has to deal with the consequences. His desire to retain normalcy at his city has resulted in his friends' capture, possible deaths, and likely loss of his city and business to the Empire after all. After Han calls him "a real hero" for trying to to the best he could in the situation, Lando tries to make amends and fix what he's done, as selling his soul to the devil carries more fine print than he originally thought.
The heroes get taken to a carbon freeze chamber so that Vader can test the carbonite on Han before Luke, just to make sure that the process won't freeze Luke. We've seen before that Vader has no problem killing those on his own side. Now he proves he can walk the walk by freezing one of our heroes just as a test to make sure that it won't kill the real target. The heroes don't even try to escape as they're being marched in. They accept what's happening and know if they tried to escape, they wouldn't make it and would get killed. Han shows his selflessness by calming down Chewie, who's become angry and violent, and telling him to take care of Leia.
Then comes the infamous exchange: "I love you." "I know." Their relationship is such that they never have to say that they love each other. They communicate their feelings with other words. Instead of Leia saying she loved him earlier, she said, "You don't have to do this to impress me," "You have your moments," and even "then you're as good as gone." Now she says clearly how she feels, and he responds that he already knows, not that he loves her back. But she can tell with those two words that he feels the same way; he's just telling her in his distinctive, Han Solo way, which is what she loves about him. Saying "I love you too" would not be Han, and not be what she liked about him. He will eventually say "I love you" in Return of the Jedi, but he doesn't need to say it here for everyone to know his feelings.
In the meantime, Luke has arrived and wanders around Cloud City. He sees Leia and the others being taken away while Leia screams to him to try to alert him to the danger he's in. Instead of fleeing, he keeps walking, convinced that he can still conquer Vader, and is separated from Artoo as a door with teeth-like projectiles clamps down. Luke has been symbolically swallowed by the beast and is entering its belly in the carbon chamber to do battle with Vader and try to save his friends.
The lightsaber duel in Empire is, in my opinion, the best of all the duels in the Star Wars saga. It doesn't have any fancy acrobatics, sure--but in a real sword fight, acrobatics would only be a disadvantage. When I talk about how good it is, I'm not talking about overly-choreographed moves, though the choreography is very clear and shot so that the audience always knows what's happening. I'm talking about the sword duel being a physical representation of the internal conflict within and between Luke and Vader.
The setting could not be better. It takes place in the carbon freeze chamber, full of orange-red lights and blue back-light. As orange and blue are opposite each other on the color wheel, our eyes are drawn to the screen. The inclusion of smoke likens it to a hell, which is where Luke is, though he doesn't know it yet. He has rushed into a fight he's not prepared for on any level. This duel is the most visually appealing of all the duels. The art and set designers really put some thought into it. This scene also contains my favorite line from the Star Wars trilogy: "The Force is with you, young Skywalker...but you are not a Jedi yet." This line is what Yoda and Obi-Wan were telling Luke during training. Luke can feel the presence of the Force, but he can't fully control it. Everybody seems to know this except for Luke, who thinks he has a good chance to kill the man who killed his father and brought about tyranny on the galaxy. Notice that he draws his sabre before Vader, when Yoda told him that Jedi use the Force "for knowledge and defence, never to attack." Luke, in drawing his sabre first, is acting on the offensive. He instigates the duel because he wants to fight Vader instead of being forced into combat and having no choice but to draw his blade to protect himself. Vader, on the other hand, doesn't have the least interest in killing or hurting Luke, but only incapacitating him to take him to the Emperor. Instead of unleashing his great sword skills, which could have ended the duel in seconds, Vader does just well enough to stay on top. All of the talking is meant to distabalise the other fighter. Luke wants to make Vader feel uneasy while Vader wants Luke to start fighting with more anger so that his victory, if he gets one, will be won through violence instead of right.
The funny thing is, Luke still thinks he's going to win in the first phase of the duel. He thinks he's fighting the noble fight, trying to kill the man who's responsible for the deaths of the Jedi and avenging his father's death. But only a "fully trained Jedi Knight, with the Force as his ally, will conquer Vader and his Emperor." Not kill, conquer. Yoda never says anything about killing anyone. Even Obi-Wan in Return of the Jedi never says that Luke has to kill anybody, only to "face Darth Vader again." Luke might have been able to win the battle without ever drawing his sword if he were as deep into knowledge of the Force as Yoda wanted him to be. But he's not--he's still an amateur with a few tricks but not the real knowledge and skill needed to face and overcome such an opponent as Vader. Though Vader's in a robotic body, he shows why he is still a "cunning warrior." He wasn't called one of the greatest Jedi Knights for nothing. He's got power and control that Luke cannot match.
He pushes Vader off the platform, then journeys farther into the heart of Cloud City instead of leaving. At this point, viewers know that Luke can't win and that his best bet would be to leave the room and return to his ship at once. He doesn't, of course, pursuing his foe instead of escaping, which would be the wiser thing to do. He ends up in a dark hallway in front of a glass window overlooking a chasm. I've always loved that window and the brief duel that takes place there to the track "Clash of the Lightsabers." It's aesthetically pleasing in all ways, from the music to the choreography to the colors to the conflict: Vader's overwhelming power and Luke's incompetence. During the duel, Vader starts fighting with the Force; he puts down his saber and telekinetically blasts objects at Luke, who does not possess the concentration to sense and deflect the blows, reacting to them only after the objects have hit him. If he did have the concentration and control, he could send them back at Vader, but he's not even attuned enough to sense the objects in time. He is blown out the broken window hangs on to a catwalk. His desire for revenge on his father's murder has turned into desire just to get out of there with his life.
Lando starts to redeem himself by getting rid of the Imperials in a quiet manner and telling Leia how they might rescue Han. The rescue portion doesn't work out, leaving us anxious for a sequel where Leia does get to rescue him, which, judging by the look of pain and loss on her face when Boba Fett's ship leaves, we know she will do. A quick word about Boba Fett. He's a very competent villain--he figures out at the beginning that the Falcon never went anywhere when it fled from the Empire ship, then follows them, figures where they're going before they get there, alerts the Empire, collects a massive bounty, and has the assurance of another massive bounty for bringing Han back. Fett has very few lines, but they're all about collecting money, making sure Han doesn't die just because "he's worth a lot to me," and checking that he'll have compensation if the carbon freeze goes wrong. Fett is a formidable, competent, clever bad guy, though one that gets little screen time and may or may not deserve the fan clubs.
Meanwhile, Artoo has been wandering around Cloud City and has run into the gang, which delights Threepio, who, while strapped to Chewie's back, has not ceased to insult the Wookiee or Artoo whenever something is going wrong. Threepio still retains his personality in dire situations, which keeps the mood from becoming too dank in these scenes where Leia and Lando try to flee from the Stormtroopers. The special edition tampers with the scenes by adding in windows of the Cloud City exteriors in place of the original white walls. This is one of those cases where I couldn't care less what's going on behind the protagonists. I'm concerned about them, not whether or not I can see what sunset looks like on Cloud City. The change itself doesn't alter the story or suspense, which is why it shouldn't have been changed at all.
The music has been superb throughout the picture, but it really shines in the track "Clash of the Lightsabers," which takes place during the middle stage of the lightsaber duel and the escape from Cloud City to the Falcon. John Williams' score is nothing short of perfect here. It mixes the "Imperial March," "Yoda's Theme," "City in the Clouds," and "Han Solo and the Princess" themes into a tapestry of music that captures the action where all the elements of the film--the invading Empire, Leia and co. trying to escape, Luke's training--all come together. The Han and Leia theme that plays as Artoo opens the door perfectly fits the elation we feel in that finally something has gone right for the heroes; that little droid has saved them all. I think that these films owe part of their popularity to the score. Without it, I really think they'd be slightly less popular. The story is universal and the characters are very engaging, but a small part of the magic comes from the music. When are we going to get a DVD release with the isolated score?
So, the Falcon has escaped, leaving Luke on his own in the city, having been blown out of the glass window onto a lower walkway. In the last portion of the duel, Luke knows he has no chance against Vader. He walks into the hall to try to get back into Cloud City, but Vader jumps out at him. Thanks to the camera angles, Vader looks immense while Luke looks tiny and cowering. Vader swings at Luke, missing every other slash, but still beating the pants off Luke. You know that Vader's better than this, and if he wanted to, he could gut Luke anytime he wanted. And he does. It's only when Luke gets lucky and slashes his shoulder that Vader gets serious and immediately cuts off his hand. Vader then makes the famous revelation that he is Luke's father. Even fans who love the film say that Luke's reaction here looks stupid. Seriously, how would you react if you were in that situation? You probably wouldn't be worried about whether you looked "stupid" or not. You'd just react, no matter how ugly it looked, and that's what Hamill does. The truth is ugly; so's the reaction. Luke chooses then to plummet to his death rather than take Vader's offer to join him and rule the galaxy together. It does sound pretty tempting. Vader gives him an easy way out of the situation and also speaks of bringing order to the galaxy, which is what the rebels want, only in a different way. Instead, Luke, knowing that Vader probably means only to exploit him, and might even kill him, takes the route of noble sacrifice in order to save his soul. Vader's reaction is simple but effective: he stalks out of the city saying "Bring my shuttle!" angrily. He's completely failed in his mission; if there had been an officer around when Luke jumped, another officer would lie on the ground choking to death.
Few movies have ended on the level of utter despair that Luke experiences at the end of this film. He's lost his right hand, found out that the most evil man in the galaxy is his father, Ben and Yoda have forsaken him, he's been beaten down from the sword fight, he's hanging on a weather vane above a poisonous gas planet, and as far as he knows, no one knows where he is and will come to rescue him. This is possibly the most beaten down a hero has ever been. Empire is the second act of a trilogy, which traditionally is the act in which everything is dark for the heroes and nothing goes right: Aristotle called Act 2 the part where you "Throw rocks at the hero." Empire does this in style without ever doing it for the sake of doing it. All the hardships spring naturally from the characters' flaws and poor decisions instead of coming from a hateful universe and events beyond control. With all the hardships the protagonists go through, we're ready to see them triumph in the third act. Without seeing them at their lowest points where the antagonists win, the ultimate victory would be hollow and boring. Here, the heroes don't win. They just barely get free with their lives while the Empire takes control of another society.
So, Luke's hanging upside-down on the weather-vane, echoing the other upside-down scenes on Hoth and Dagobah, creating a Hanged Man motif. Using this kind of mythology and symbolism is yet another way that Lucas reaches us. The Hanged Man in the Tarot is the figure who puts himself in danger or inconvenience to achieve enlightenment. The first time he's seen upside-down, Luke uses the Force to summon his lightsaber to escape from the ice monster. The second time, he stands on his hands while lifting rocks to hone his Force control. The third time, he successfully reaches out and communicates with a person whom has never used the Force (consciously anyway). Each time he is in a bad position but uses it to advance his abilities. He calls out to Ben, then, receiving no reply, tries Leia, who, in a foreshadowing of the plot twist in Return of the Jedi, hears his voice and flies back to pick him up. The return alerts the Empire, and once more they are on the run. Vader reaches out to Luke telepathically and asks him once more to join him. Despite his disbelief in the previous scene, Luke shows that he might believe that Vader is telling the truth in saying, "Father" when Vader first contacts him. Luke does not answer Vader, only asking, "Ben, why didn't you tell me?" He might be asking why Ben never told him back on Tatooine when he asked how his father died. This certainly throws a new light on his teachers and role models. Or, he could be justifying to himself that Vader can't be his father because if that were the case, Ben surely would have told him. However, this issue is not resolved until the next film, leaving yet another plot thread for audiences to stew over. Artoo, meanwhile, has gotten information from the City's computer that the Empire has deactivated the hyperdrive, and takes charge of the situation. Revealing itself/himself/herself as the true hero of the Star Wars saga, Artoo repairs the hyperdrive just in the nick of time and sends the Falcon hurtling through space. Vader looks out in defeat, walks by the Admiral...and doesn't kill him. His head is too full of thoughts to think about killing anyone.
On the edge of the galaxy, Luke gets his hand replaced while Lando and Chewie take off in the Falcon. Han is gone, but a reprise of "Han Solo and the Princess" while Luke and Leia look out over the galaxy assures us that one day, they will rescue him. We're left with many loose ends and unanswered questions which promise answers in the third act. The story is not yet over. A dark film ends on a calm note, letting us know that, while evil has triumphed this time, a small sliver of hope remains for the protagonists.
In this sequel, we get a closer look at the persons whose actions affect the fate of the galaxy. What really makes The Empire Strikes Back a great film and a great sequel is its emphasis on characters over story. As I said before, very little happens in the way of the main plot. On the other hand, much development occurs with the characters, both internally and between each other. Without the emotional core, this film would be just a remake of Star Wars. It might contain many exhilarating fight scenes, but if it's essentially the same movie only with different locations, then we won't care about the outcomes. That is not the case here. We do see them grow and try different things and fail. We don't see them doing the same things they did in Star Wars. If the audience wanted to see them do the same things they did in Star Wars, they could watch Star Wars. Instead, we have a very different kind of film that revolves more around philosophy, internal struggles, making decisions and living with the outcomes.
Also of note as that the special effects, costumes, and locations exist to serve the story rather than to look pretty in their own right. The models all look excellent, the lightsabers look slightly gritty in comparison to the overly-sleek blade designs of the prequel trilogy, the clothes look probable to wear, the ships and locations look like people actually use them and live in them (and, of course, break on occasion), and the puppetry exists to make a memorable character instead of to show off what the company can do with puppetry. This is a big reason why the film still is good and hasn't really aged. The look and special effects serve the story and the characters' journeys. The film is not a demo of reel of what the company can do with special effects. Many of the effects were cutting-edge, but the film doesn't make a big deal out of them. They exist for the story: the story wasn't cobbled together so that ILM could show off the new ways they could make ships fly around. The film is also abound in mythological archtypes, from visual motifs to character types, used in new ways. Universal ideas make the story accessible to everyone in all times, and that's why it still touches us. It has themes and characters that everyone can relate to, it structured well, doesn't look dated or hokey, and has that great score. Bravo, Empire cast and crew.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Alternate Choices for Christmas Movies
Are you tired of watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, Home Alone, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, and A Christmas Story a dozen times a year because you don't know of more non-traditional titles?
Never fear; WiseWolf is here to help. The following are unconventional choices for Christmas movies which nevertheless deserve more attention.
The Muppet Christmas Carol
This one is known, but doesn't get as much attention as it deserves. It's the Muppets performing Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, pure and simple. A stroke of genius was in casting Gonzo as Charles Dickens, giving us a narrator who travels along with the action but does not interact with anybody. He is accompanied by Rizzo the Rat, performing the role of himself, whose cluelessness and sarcasm (and quest for jelly beans) balances out Gonzo's--Dickens'--pretentiousness. At one point Rizzo asks how Gonzo-Dickens could know what's going on inside a house when they're outside it, and Gonzo-Dickens replies it's because "storytellers are omniscient. I know everything." Including Dickens as a character also enables the film to utilize the prose from the novella as well as dialogue.
The mixture of Dickensian dialogue and Muppet humor works effectively. It's always a pleasure when opposites that seem like they should never work together come together and work brilliantly--Firefly's mix of Western and science fiction, film noir and science fiction in Dark City, and the science fiction/comedy/Western/romance/action/bildungsroman mix that is Back to the Future Part III. Adding Muppets humor and musical elements to the first time-travel drama novel somehow seems totally appropriate. The songs are memorable and filled with energy (at least to me). The movie also follows the novel closely, omitting a few scenes from the novella while retaining its essence. The parts are cast well, matching up the Muppets with their Dickens counterparts (in the process creating a brother for Jacob Marley so that Statler and Waldorf aren't separated). With A Christmas Carol being one of the world's most filmed books, The Muppet Christmas Carol is one of the best with its unique take on the story.
The Dead
This is actually an Epiphany movie, which is refreshing because there aren't many movies about that holiday. It takes place in a single night during a family party in Dublin in 1904. It's a pure example of slice-of-life: the film treats us to a little piece of a family's life during the holiday season. It has a leisurely pace and conveys many things about its characters through dance, song, recitations, dinner, and gives us one revelation made by a couple near the end. One word of warning: do not watch this on DVD if the DVD says the runtime is 73 minutes. The movie is 83 minutes long, with the DVD cutting ten minutes for no discernible reason. Go with the tape on this one, unless an unedited version ever makes it to DVD. Lionsgate should be ashamed for destroying John Huston's last film.
A Midnight Clear
I've watched this movie every year since I discovered it in 2006. It's about an intelligence squad of six men who, during WWII, are scouting an area in the Ardennes in the winter of 1944. While there, they encounter a group of Germans, whose motives aren't so malicious. In fact, they're just as scared as the Americans. And I really don't want to give anything else away. I've seen this movie five times, but I'm not really sure how to describe it. It's quiet mostly, cold, dreamlike but realistic, and thoughtful without being pretentious. It addresses the war from the perspective of six soldiers who were only chosen as an intelligence squad because they had high IQ scores. It's anti-war, but not overtly so. Stick around for the credits for the most haunting version of "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" you will ever hear, sung by Sam Phillips.
Speaking of Christmas truces, there's also...
Joyeux Noel
This film tells the more-or-less true story of a spontaneous Christmas truce between French, German, and Scottish troops during World War I. They cease fire, sing carols, hold a service, play football (soccer), and exchange addresses to get in contact with each other after the war. The paths the two films take are quite different, but they both convey the idea that soldiers fighting on opposite sides of a war really have nothing against the individual persons and probably have a lot in common with them, as one of the veterans at the beginning of part 9 of Band of Brothers says.
The Lion in Winter
There's no snow in this Christmas movie. King Henry II has called a Christmas court in 1183. He's invited his three sons, Richard, Geoffrey, and John, his mistress Alyss, who is sister to the King of France, who's also coming, and he's let his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine out of prison. They all just want Henry to choose a successor--Eleanor wants it to be Richard, Henry wants John, and King Phillip just wants Henry to marry Alyss to one of Henry's sons or return her dowry. This film has excellent acting and dialogue. The dialogue is up there with I, Claudius, with witty comebacks and biting humor. The only bad thing about watching this movie is that once you've seen it, you've sort of seen the best medieval film. Well, that and Branagh's Henry V. I'd peg those two as the best medieval movies. The look of the film is also welcome; Henry doesn't particularly look like a king with his brown tunic, which humanises him greatly. The castle also isn't that clean. Dogs roam freely, straw is spread on the floor of the dining hall, and peasants loiter around the steps of the castle. It's far from the squeaky-clean Middle Ages portrayed in other works like BBC's Robin Hood. (seriously, I had no idea outlaws from the 12th century bathed and styled their hair every day.) The writing, dialogue, and acting are what's really on display here, and those deliver.
Try these if you're looking for something a little different this year.
Never fear; WiseWolf is here to help. The following are unconventional choices for Christmas movies which nevertheless deserve more attention.
The Muppet Christmas Carol
This one is known, but doesn't get as much attention as it deserves. It's the Muppets performing Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, pure and simple. A stroke of genius was in casting Gonzo as Charles Dickens, giving us a narrator who travels along with the action but does not interact with anybody. He is accompanied by Rizzo the Rat, performing the role of himself, whose cluelessness and sarcasm (and quest for jelly beans) balances out Gonzo's--Dickens'--pretentiousness. At one point Rizzo asks how Gonzo-Dickens could know what's going on inside a house when they're outside it, and Gonzo-Dickens replies it's because "storytellers are omniscient. I know everything." Including Dickens as a character also enables the film to utilize the prose from the novella as well as dialogue.
The mixture of Dickensian dialogue and Muppet humor works effectively. It's always a pleasure when opposites that seem like they should never work together come together and work brilliantly--Firefly's mix of Western and science fiction, film noir and science fiction in Dark City, and the science fiction/comedy/Western/romance/action/bildungsroman mix that is Back to the Future Part III. Adding Muppets humor and musical elements to the first time-travel drama novel somehow seems totally appropriate. The songs are memorable and filled with energy (at least to me). The movie also follows the novel closely, omitting a few scenes from the novella while retaining its essence. The parts are cast well, matching up the Muppets with their Dickens counterparts (in the process creating a brother for Jacob Marley so that Statler and Waldorf aren't separated). With A Christmas Carol being one of the world's most filmed books, The Muppet Christmas Carol is one of the best with its unique take on the story.
The Dead
This is actually an Epiphany movie, which is refreshing because there aren't many movies about that holiday. It takes place in a single night during a family party in Dublin in 1904. It's a pure example of slice-of-life: the film treats us to a little piece of a family's life during the holiday season. It has a leisurely pace and conveys many things about its characters through dance, song, recitations, dinner, and gives us one revelation made by a couple near the end. One word of warning: do not watch this on DVD if the DVD says the runtime is 73 minutes. The movie is 83 minutes long, with the DVD cutting ten minutes for no discernible reason. Go with the tape on this one, unless an unedited version ever makes it to DVD. Lionsgate should be ashamed for destroying John Huston's last film.
A Midnight Clear
I've watched this movie every year since I discovered it in 2006. It's about an intelligence squad of six men who, during WWII, are scouting an area in the Ardennes in the winter of 1944. While there, they encounter a group of Germans, whose motives aren't so malicious. In fact, they're just as scared as the Americans. And I really don't want to give anything else away. I've seen this movie five times, but I'm not really sure how to describe it. It's quiet mostly, cold, dreamlike but realistic, and thoughtful without being pretentious. It addresses the war from the perspective of six soldiers who were only chosen as an intelligence squad because they had high IQ scores. It's anti-war, but not overtly so. Stick around for the credits for the most haunting version of "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear" you will ever hear, sung by Sam Phillips.
Speaking of Christmas truces, there's also...
Joyeux Noel
This film tells the more-or-less true story of a spontaneous Christmas truce between French, German, and Scottish troops during World War I. They cease fire, sing carols, hold a service, play football (soccer), and exchange addresses to get in contact with each other after the war. The paths the two films take are quite different, but they both convey the idea that soldiers fighting on opposite sides of a war really have nothing against the individual persons and probably have a lot in common with them, as one of the veterans at the beginning of part 9 of Band of Brothers says.
The Lion in Winter
There's no snow in this Christmas movie. King Henry II has called a Christmas court in 1183. He's invited his three sons, Richard, Geoffrey, and John, his mistress Alyss, who is sister to the King of France, who's also coming, and he's let his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine out of prison. They all just want Henry to choose a successor--Eleanor wants it to be Richard, Henry wants John, and King Phillip just wants Henry to marry Alyss to one of Henry's sons or return her dowry. This film has excellent acting and dialogue. The dialogue is up there with I, Claudius, with witty comebacks and biting humor. The only bad thing about watching this movie is that once you've seen it, you've sort of seen the best medieval film. Well, that and Branagh's Henry V. I'd peg those two as the best medieval movies. The look of the film is also welcome; Henry doesn't particularly look like a king with his brown tunic, which humanises him greatly. The castle also isn't that clean. Dogs roam freely, straw is spread on the floor of the dining hall, and peasants loiter around the steps of the castle. It's far from the squeaky-clean Middle Ages portrayed in other works like BBC's Robin Hood. (seriously, I had no idea outlaws from the 12th century bathed and styled their hair every day.) The writing, dialogue, and acting are what's really on display here, and those deliver.
Try these if you're looking for something a little different this year.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Greatness of "The Empire Strikes Back" Part II
Part II
(Credits again so no one sues me: This film was directed by Irvin Kershner, story by George Lucas, screenplay by Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan, produced by George Lucas. 20th Century Fox, 1980. Starring Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher.)
Luke goes to find Dagobah while Han and Leia try to outrun the Empire. Han gets the ship ready for hyperdrive, and the audience anxiously awaits to see those stars turn into lines...but they don't. This is Act II, after all. The heroes can't have it easy or there would be no suspense. Threepio, who for the entire scene and previous scene has been trying to tell Han something but keeps being shot down, finally gets to tell Han that he noticed that the hyperdrive is broken. Han goes to fix it and Chewie brings him a toolbox; the ship shakes and the toolbox falls on his head. It's funny, but not too funny, as it's perfectly believable that a ship in space would get knocked around and things would fall down. At a dismal time, a small bit of humor helps lighten the mood. The shuddering of the Falcon alerts Han to the fact that they've flown into an asteroid belt, as laser blasts don't hit the ship like that. Then Han goes into the asteroid field, feeling that the Empire would have to be crazy to pursue them there. Then Leia says, "You don't have to do this to impress me." Her real feelings come out in this simple line. She admires him and likes him, and she wants him to know that he already impresses her; he doesn't have to do dangerous stunts to attract her attention. We then have a short, thrilling action sequence as TIE fighters chase the Falcon through the asteroids, being destroyed one by one until the Falcon lands in a cave on an asteroid so that the crew can attempt to fix the ship.
Across the galaxy, Luke arrives at the swamp planet and crashes lands. The genius of this comes when you realise that Yoda probably messed with the X-wing so that it would crash right near his hut so that Luke wouldn't have to trek halfway across the planet to find him, and that Yoda made the ship crash so that Luke couldn't get out, take a look around, decide swamps weren't for him, and leave. Luke and Artoo get out and Artoo falls into the swamp water. I've always loved the sound that Artoo makes after Luke says, "You be more careful." It's full of sass. This is another case where we don't need subtitles for Artoo's language. There's no need for words. He conveys exactly what he needs to just by the tone of his beeps and whistles. A creature eats Artoo, spits him out, and Luke goes after him. Luke then has a line about how Dagobah seems like a dream. This line has never been properly explained in the canon, so I'll attempt it. For one, Yoda's very presence may be acting on him. Unable to identify it, Luke calls it familiar and dreamlike. He feels a mystical force he's never sensed before, but unable to place what it is, he labels it as something he's experienced before. Secondly, Yoda may have been sending him subconscious dreams about this planet to prepare him. It may also be that Luke is simply reacting to the new world around him. He's lived in deserts his whole life--first on sand, then on snow. For the first time, he's surrounded by water, fog, and trees. It very well could seem like a fantasy world to him. Maybe he did dream about water worlds on Tatooine, where expanses of water are rare or nonexistent. To someone who's used to walking in the woods, the trees are nothing special. To someone who's never seen the forest and suddenly gets to walk around in one, the experience can be very magical and back-in-time-like. Luke may be going through the same thing. It's a small line that implies so much.
Then comes another little moment. Piett comes to see Vader, who is in his breathing chamber. A machine puts Vader's helmet on him, but not before we see the back of the scared, white head underneath. Now we know that there is a real human person inside that suit. As we never see Vader outside the black cape in this movie and Star Wars, it would be possible to say that Vader is a robot. Now we know that there is a disfigured person inside who thinks for himself, feels emotions, and has quite a past. If you hadn't thought about it before, now you think about what happened in this man's life to lead him to living in a life-support system at the head of an tyrannical empire. In fact, that's the whole point of this scene, as the rest concerns Vader telling Piett to keep pursuing the Falcon regardless of asteroids. Not only are we learning more about our heroes, we're going to learn more about our villains, and it's a pleasure to learn almost as much about them as we do about the protagonists.
Next we go back to the Falcon for a brief scene in the cave. There's a lot of good dialogue here about Threepio claiming the asteroid is "not entirely stable," which Han sarcastically appreciates, and Leia claiming that being held by Han "isn't quite enough to get me excited." The lighting is also good, with red and blue lights to draw our attention while still retaining shadows that echo the film's darkness and the bleakness of the Falcon's situation.
Cut back to Luke, who has run into a short, seemingly insane creature claiming to know Yoda who turns out to be Yoda himself. The Dagobah scenes could have become slow and preachy, but instead they provide a tranquil but chilling centre to the film. I noticed that in the original print, the Dagobah scenes have a green-grey pallor to them. The remastered 2004 version saturates the scenes with a blue that doesn't really fit a foggy swamp setting. Yoda isn't supposed to be filtered through blue--he's supposed to be green. It's just one more way that Lucas changed this movie that didn't need fixing. He didn't just change scenes--he changed the look of the film, which has a huge effect on how we perceive it.
The puppet work on Yoda has rarely been equaled. The intensity and sincerity of the puppetry, the puppet design, and Frank Oz's vocal performance make Yoda expressive and believable. I never once doubt that Yoda is a real, living creature. The extent of his facial expressions and body language give him the best performance in the film. Lucas was right when he said that the movie would have failed if Yoda had not worked. Yoda needs gravitas and dignity, and had the puppet looked silly and been played comically, the core of the film would have been lost. Yoda begins as a crazed creature who beats Artoo with his walking stick because he wants a lamp, but it all turns out to be a ruse to test Luke's patience, a test he fails. The insanity fades instantly when he says that he cannot teach Luke, and it's a testament to the puppetry and Oz's performance that the audience completely buys the transformation from insane swamp being to wise Jedi master who has merely been putting on an act. His face displays every emotion he needs effortlessly: awe, disappointment, sadness, frenziness, anger, and calmness.
It not just the puppet work that makes Yoda a marvel; many times, a film has only its special effects working for it and no real human story or characters. Yoda's character makes us so attached to him. He's wise, not impressed by the "hero" who's convinced he can do anything, and has quirky but believable mannerisms. When it comes down to it, Empire is all about its characters. They are all very memorable, based on classic archetypes but each of them unique. Luke progresses from being a whiny teenager stuck on a farm to rebel leader to brash Jedi apprentice to mature, learned Jedi. There's Han Solo, a mercenary figure who takes the slow road to becoming a selfless, compassionate person while shedding none of his roguish personality. Princess Leia at first seems to be a damsel in need of rescuing but proves, at times, to be the most competent player on the field with her courage, compassion, excellent aim with a blaster, and readiness to take charge of any situation at any time (Death Star escape and Jabba strangulation, anyone?). Darth Vader becomes more complex as the trilogy progresses, from pure villain to a tragic figure, until he ends up doing what the heroes could not and destroying the Empire. Yoda embodies the maxim "don't judge by appearances" with his short height, old age, and status as one of the most powerful Jedi who ever lived. His speech mannerisms, which mimic Latin, and Japanese to a certain extent, identify him as someone who comes from a different time period but whom you can still understand. He's wise, wise enough to know he can't stop death, strong though he is. He's lived through many changing societies and has probably incorporated morals from all time periods into his way of living and teaching. He's been alive for nine hundred years and must have seen just about everything, which colors how he perceives and teaches Luke.
Back aboard the Falcon, Han and Leia have their moment. Han tries to touch Leia's hands, but she doesn't want him to. Slowly he moves towards her, and the two continue with their conversation until they mutually kiss, which Kershner likens to sex in a movie like this. Threepio breaks in, completely unaware of the moment he's broken up. Even when he sees the two kissing, he still has no idea what a special moment it is for them. He's a robot--he has no real emotions, only responses programmed into him, so he can't even apologise for the intrusion because he doesn't understand what Han and Leia were doing or why they might be upset when interrupted . Leia uses the distraction to slip out. Is she still a little unsure she wants to have a relationship with Han, even though she loves him? Is she concerned that he'll leave her soon and doesn't want to start something that will end so soon? Young as she is, is she startled by her own feelings? Han is understandably upset at the disruption, but doesn't pursue Leia, letting her go and respecting her choice to leave him even though he might want to continue kissing her. This is a real relationship we're watching unfold, not some contrived story with comical misunderstandings and pratfalls. It has a natural place in the grand scheme; unlike many action movies where the two main characters get together at the end for no other reason than to get together at the end (i.e. James Bond and many action movies), Leia and Han gravitate towards each other naturally and the love story fits into the fabric of the film, enriching the rest of the drama.
The Empire is still searching for the duo. In another interesting detail, we see the bridge of one of the ships destroyed by an asteroid. Cut to inside Vader's ship, where a transmission is being made by several captains. One of the men flickers out, having been killed. And Vader doesn't say anything about it, seeing his crew as expendable and easily replaceable. Great little moment. But as scary as Vader is, he still answers to one person--the Emperor, whom we then see for the first time. Only two or so mentions have been made of this figure so far, and to see him makes us fully understand that there is someone even more powerful than Vader in the galaxy. Vader may be strong and scary, but he answers to someone else. The Emperor tells him that their new enemy is Luke Skywalker and that he must not become a Jedi or he will destroy them. Vader responds that he will join them or die. Now we see some of why Vader is so interested in finding Luke. It also adds suspense to the story, as Luke faces no real danger on Dagobah. Once he leaves the planet, though, away from the presence of Yoda and the Dark cave, he's exposed.
On Dagobah, Luke discovers that the little creature is Yoda. John Williams' score meshes with the scene brilliantly in the scene in Yoda's hut when we hear his theme for the first time. Yoda's been around a long time. He's seen lots of young men and women like Luke who think they know everything better than the master and can do anything without having studied. Luke thinks he's ready to learn when in fact he has no idea what he's really in for. In season 3 of the series Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka goes to a sword master to ask to become his apprentice. Instead of proclaiming his worthiness, Sokka bows his head and says that he has a lot of learn and he doesn't even think he's worthy to be taught by a great master. This humility is what draws the master to Sokka, and he accepts Sokka as a student. Luke has none of this--he has no humility, no patience, and no true drive to be a Jedi beyond following in his Jedi father's footsteps, and the lack of these characteristics worry Yoda. Yoda is the last of the Jedi and Luke is the only apprentice who has come to him. Luke's all he's got to work with and he thinks that if Luke doesn't put all his energy into learning, or doesn't understand the nature of what he learns, the Jedi way will be lost forever. He can't really turn Luke away, though he would like to because Luke has issues that need to be dealt with before he can begin learning a whole knew philosophy. I feel that if there were a better contender, Yoda would definitely have refused Luke and trained somebody else. Luke, right now, is not the best person for the job, which puts us on edge about the fate of the galaxy and of our three leads. We don't have total confidence in him (Han doesn't either; as he says at the beginning of Return of the Jedi, he doesn't trust Luke to take care of himself), which is better than watching a hero whom we know will always succeed. Perfect heroes are dull; flawed ones are fascinating. All I can say is that the music, like every other piece of music in the trilogy, fits the mood perfectly. With just the music and without the dialogue, the scene would still work as it should, conveying Luke's antsiness and Yoda's misgivings.
Then we have a mysterious scene where the crew of the Falcon slowly discover that they are actually in the throat of a giant space creature instead of a cave. It opens up even more possibilities of a galaxy far, far away. How does that creature breathe? Does it need to? Is the space there not a vacuum? (Considering that we see explosions in space, that may very well be possible.) How does this creature eat on a daily basis? How did it even get there? These are little questions that don't need answers in order for us to understand and enjoy the film, but they do point to great differences and similarities between our galaxy and theirs. The fact that Leia is surprised at the cave being a creature while Han isn't shows that there are many things in their galaxy that they don't know all about yet, just as we don't know everything about our galaxy. Han, as a pilot, may have heard of these things while Leia, a Senator, hasn't. Fun, huh?
Back on Dagobah, Luke does some physical training while Yoda tells him about the Force. This scene contains a case where real life dictates the story's actions. Since Yoda is a puppet and can't run alongside Luke, he sits in a pack on Luke's back. Lucas says in the commentary that if they'd had digital technology in the 80s, Yoda would have been bouncing alongside Luke. I'm grateful that they didn't--Yoda bouncing up and down would have ruined the spooky atmosphere of the swamp and the serious mood of the story. Yoda in a backpack is the simplest and most effective way to do this scene. Yoda then tells Luke that the Force is used for defence and knowledge, not to attack others, and that the Dark side is consuming if you let it be. It's simple stuff, but sometimes simple is the most effective (as in the case with Yoda in the pack). This story is a fairy tale for the modern audience, and simplicity works well in fairy and morality stories. Yoda then tells Luke to go into a Dark cave, which contains "only what you take with you." It's Luke's own soul that he goes into. Since he cannot trust Yoda's advice that he won't need his weapons, he brings them along. If he didn't bring them, then he wouldn't have combat. The fear of combat would not manifest itself in the cave. Something else would, though what, the audience doesn't find out, as Luke never returns to the cave without his sabre.
He enters the cave and sees an apparition of Vader. The rest of the scene is shot in slow-motion to add to the unreality of the vision, a projection of the turmoil in his soul. It's also the most symbolic scene in the series. Actually, it's pure symbolism. Luke cuts off Vader's head and finds his own in the mask. It's foreshadowing, but more importantly, it symbolises what will happen if Luke continues to use violence and brash actions instead of more peaceful, deliberate means. He'll destroy himself. After the fight, the film cuts to Yoda, surely aware of all that is happening. He makes a simple grunt before the scene changes. As I said before, the tiny moments add up to greatness. Yoda knows what Luke encountered and expected it. His grunt says that he knew what would happen but sent Luke in anyway and knows he's got to change his mindset before he can embody the traits that Yoda imparts to him.
Vader is about to dispense the bounty hunters to find the Falcon, but the ship is spotted. It can't go into light speed, so they turn around and fly directly over the Empire's ship, mystifying the crew as the Falcon disappears from radar entirely. The scene ends without revealing what happened to Han and crew, giving the movie more suspense.
Then back to Dagobah in one of my favorite film scenes of all time. Luke is trying to lift some rocks with the Force; suddenly, his X-wing, the only way off the planet, starts sinking, and Luke, overcome with fear, loses concentration and falls to the ground. Now, having noticed after one hundred viewings that the ship is just fine in one shot and then rapidly sinking in the next, I have no doubt that Yoda pushed the ship back and made it sink just to set up another lesson for Luke. It's no big deal if Luke can't lift a rock. On the other hand, if he can't get his ship out of the swamp, he's not getting off the planet, as no one else knows where he is and he has no way to communicate with the outside world. That is another great thing these Dagobah scenes do. We have sequences where Luke interacts solely with Yoda and the planet. No outside influences seep in to disrupt his training, and for once he has only himself to rely on. Luke is effectively dead to the world; no one can help him and he can help nobody, which will gnaw on him in a later scene.
So, Luke is pessimistic about getting his ship out, saying that moving rocks and ships are "totally different." Yoda then says that the difference is only in his head, and how well this statement can be applied to just about anything in life. This combined with his later line, "Size matters not...Judge me by my size, do you?" is some very basic but important philosophy. There are no major differences between the sexes, different nationalities, people of different skin tones, heights, weights, hair colors, or religions. No important differences anyway, and certainly nothing big enough to warrant the classifications and extreme characteristics and stereotypes that society assigns to them. Yoda's wisdom can be applied to just about anything, and it's especially important that Luke grasps this concept. So Luke tries and fails, or, as Yoda would say, "do[es] not." Luke claims that he can't lift it because it's too big, to which Yoda supplies the line above, explaining that the Force is all around and can be used for anything if the person truly feels its presence. But Luke just cannot grasp this concept, leading to his failure. Luke's own prejudice of not being able to move something because it's too big and heavy is the very thing that's stopping him from doing it. Lifting a rock and a ship using his own muscles is different--there's a limit to how much weight a human can pick up. However, that situation is not applicable here, and Luke cannot see that the Force will work on a basketball and a boulder in the same way. Instead of trying to understand Yoda's point and a whole new way of thinking about things, Luke calls the situation "impossible" from his point-of-view and walks away.
Another teacher may have lectured Luke until Luke was ready to pull it off, but that's not what Yoda does. Deciding that the best way to teach is by doing the impossible thing himself in view of his pupil, Yoda closes his eyes and raises the ship out of the swamp to the amazement of Luke and Artoo. Artoo is a droid who's seen all kinds of scientific wizardry, but even this little droid knows that it's seeing something really special. Once again, the score is at its prime with a mellow rendition of Luke's theme followed by a triumphant version of Yoda's theme. Yoda opens his eyes and looks at Luke as if to say, "And you were saying it couldn't be done?" He also sighs with the implication that the ship-raising will be his final act using the Force. Luke then says, "I don't believe it!" to which Yoda responds, "That is why you fail." He doesn't fail because the move is too advanced--he fails because he doesn't think he can do it. His own negative opinions bring him down, not the tasks themselves. It's a great lesson that everybody can learn from. If you think you can't write a book, you may never try and find out that you actually can. If you think you could never be someone's friend because you have a prejudice against an entire group, then you will never know whether or not you might have become friends with that person. It's one of the many beautiful parts of the film. The lessons are timeless and applicable in many different situations. The same thing happens to Luke here as happens in the cave: he creates his own negative influences, and it's these things that stop him from achieving his goals, not any random acts that the universe throws at him. The scene touches us because we recognise the very same things in our lives.
The next scene starts with Needa choking and dying while Vader stands over him and says, "Apology accepted, Captain Needa." More reminders that incompetence of any kind will not be tolerated. He eerily reminds Piett, appointed Admiral in the stead of the one who was strangled at the beginning of the movie, to not fail again. Piett gained his rank through another's incompetence, and another officer could gain the Admiral rank if Piett messes up again. It turns out that the Falcon has attached itself to the Star Destroyer and shut down to avoid detection. Han and Leia decide that they will go to Bespin, where an swindler and friend of Han's, Lando, has set up a mining colony. As the ship detaches and floats away, Leia kisses Han on the cheek and tells him that this is one of his "moments," which he appreciates. She initiates this kiss--it's her choice, and it lets everybody know where she stands on her relationship with Han.
Once more, Luke is in training, but now is open to receiving the kinds of visions and feelings that Obi-Wan had when Alderaan was destroyed. Obi-Wan tells Luke in Star Wars that the Force will obey his commands, but it also will control his actions, and that's what it does in sending him visions. Luke is open to the Force now that he's seen what Yoda can do, but what Luke can't do is control the Force enough to limit the visions. All he thinks about is his friends being in danger and not the larger picture. He can't see that his coming to rescue them is exactly what the Empire wants. All he sees is that he is on this swamp planet when he should be rescuing his friends. He's acting impulsively for his own interests and without all the information. Yoda says that his friends might not even die, as the future is always uncertain. Nevertheless, Luke still wants to go to save them. This hero is not perfect, which makes him endearing and easy to relate to. I've seen so many other stories where heroes mature too quickly and accomplish everything without making any big mistakes, which makes for a dull narrative. They don't start out with any real flaws and progress through the story, learning only how to control more magic or getting one step closer to facing the Big Villain. Not realising that his own actions might cause that future to come about, Luke departs the planet, leaving Yoda saying, "And now, matters are worse." To add suspense, Yoda claims that if Luke fails, not all will be lost, as there is someone else whom they could turn to. So, Luke has been set up as expendable, not invincible, and very much able to fail.
End of Part II
(Credits again so no one sues me: This film was directed by Irvin Kershner, story by George Lucas, screenplay by Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasdan, produced by George Lucas. 20th Century Fox, 1980. Starring Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher.)
Luke goes to find Dagobah while Han and Leia try to outrun the Empire. Han gets the ship ready for hyperdrive, and the audience anxiously awaits to see those stars turn into lines...but they don't. This is Act II, after all. The heroes can't have it easy or there would be no suspense. Threepio, who for the entire scene and previous scene has been trying to tell Han something but keeps being shot down, finally gets to tell Han that he noticed that the hyperdrive is broken. Han goes to fix it and Chewie brings him a toolbox; the ship shakes and the toolbox falls on his head. It's funny, but not too funny, as it's perfectly believable that a ship in space would get knocked around and things would fall down. At a dismal time, a small bit of humor helps lighten the mood. The shuddering of the Falcon alerts Han to the fact that they've flown into an asteroid belt, as laser blasts don't hit the ship like that. Then Han goes into the asteroid field, feeling that the Empire would have to be crazy to pursue them there. Then Leia says, "You don't have to do this to impress me." Her real feelings come out in this simple line. She admires him and likes him, and she wants him to know that he already impresses her; he doesn't have to do dangerous stunts to attract her attention. We then have a short, thrilling action sequence as TIE fighters chase the Falcon through the asteroids, being destroyed one by one until the Falcon lands in a cave on an asteroid so that the crew can attempt to fix the ship.
Across the galaxy, Luke arrives at the swamp planet and crashes lands. The genius of this comes when you realise that Yoda probably messed with the X-wing so that it would crash right near his hut so that Luke wouldn't have to trek halfway across the planet to find him, and that Yoda made the ship crash so that Luke couldn't get out, take a look around, decide swamps weren't for him, and leave. Luke and Artoo get out and Artoo falls into the swamp water. I've always loved the sound that Artoo makes after Luke says, "You be more careful." It's full of sass. This is another case where we don't need subtitles for Artoo's language. There's no need for words. He conveys exactly what he needs to just by the tone of his beeps and whistles. A creature eats Artoo, spits him out, and Luke goes after him. Luke then has a line about how Dagobah seems like a dream. This line has never been properly explained in the canon, so I'll attempt it. For one, Yoda's very presence may be acting on him. Unable to identify it, Luke calls it familiar and dreamlike. He feels a mystical force he's never sensed before, but unable to place what it is, he labels it as something he's experienced before. Secondly, Yoda may have been sending him subconscious dreams about this planet to prepare him. It may also be that Luke is simply reacting to the new world around him. He's lived in deserts his whole life--first on sand, then on snow. For the first time, he's surrounded by water, fog, and trees. It very well could seem like a fantasy world to him. Maybe he did dream about water worlds on Tatooine, where expanses of water are rare or nonexistent. To someone who's used to walking in the woods, the trees are nothing special. To someone who's never seen the forest and suddenly gets to walk around in one, the experience can be very magical and back-in-time-like. Luke may be going through the same thing. It's a small line that implies so much.
Then comes another little moment. Piett comes to see Vader, who is in his breathing chamber. A machine puts Vader's helmet on him, but not before we see the back of the scared, white head underneath. Now we know that there is a real human person inside that suit. As we never see Vader outside the black cape in this movie and Star Wars, it would be possible to say that Vader is a robot. Now we know that there is a disfigured person inside who thinks for himself, feels emotions, and has quite a past. If you hadn't thought about it before, now you think about what happened in this man's life to lead him to living in a life-support system at the head of an tyrannical empire. In fact, that's the whole point of this scene, as the rest concerns Vader telling Piett to keep pursuing the Falcon regardless of asteroids. Not only are we learning more about our heroes, we're going to learn more about our villains, and it's a pleasure to learn almost as much about them as we do about the protagonists.
Next we go back to the Falcon for a brief scene in the cave. There's a lot of good dialogue here about Threepio claiming the asteroid is "not entirely stable," which Han sarcastically appreciates, and Leia claiming that being held by Han "isn't quite enough to get me excited." The lighting is also good, with red and blue lights to draw our attention while still retaining shadows that echo the film's darkness and the bleakness of the Falcon's situation.
Cut back to Luke, who has run into a short, seemingly insane creature claiming to know Yoda who turns out to be Yoda himself. The Dagobah scenes could have become slow and preachy, but instead they provide a tranquil but chilling centre to the film. I noticed that in the original print, the Dagobah scenes have a green-grey pallor to them. The remastered 2004 version saturates the scenes with a blue that doesn't really fit a foggy swamp setting. Yoda isn't supposed to be filtered through blue--he's supposed to be green. It's just one more way that Lucas changed this movie that didn't need fixing. He didn't just change scenes--he changed the look of the film, which has a huge effect on how we perceive it.
The puppet work on Yoda has rarely been equaled. The intensity and sincerity of the puppetry, the puppet design, and Frank Oz's vocal performance make Yoda expressive and believable. I never once doubt that Yoda is a real, living creature. The extent of his facial expressions and body language give him the best performance in the film. Lucas was right when he said that the movie would have failed if Yoda had not worked. Yoda needs gravitas and dignity, and had the puppet looked silly and been played comically, the core of the film would have been lost. Yoda begins as a crazed creature who beats Artoo with his walking stick because he wants a lamp, but it all turns out to be a ruse to test Luke's patience, a test he fails. The insanity fades instantly when he says that he cannot teach Luke, and it's a testament to the puppetry and Oz's performance that the audience completely buys the transformation from insane swamp being to wise Jedi master who has merely been putting on an act. His face displays every emotion he needs effortlessly: awe, disappointment, sadness, frenziness, anger, and calmness.
It not just the puppet work that makes Yoda a marvel; many times, a film has only its special effects working for it and no real human story or characters. Yoda's character makes us so attached to him. He's wise, not impressed by the "hero" who's convinced he can do anything, and has quirky but believable mannerisms. When it comes down to it, Empire is all about its characters. They are all very memorable, based on classic archetypes but each of them unique. Luke progresses from being a whiny teenager stuck on a farm to rebel leader to brash Jedi apprentice to mature, learned Jedi. There's Han Solo, a mercenary figure who takes the slow road to becoming a selfless, compassionate person while shedding none of his roguish personality. Princess Leia at first seems to be a damsel in need of rescuing but proves, at times, to be the most competent player on the field with her courage, compassion, excellent aim with a blaster, and readiness to take charge of any situation at any time (Death Star escape and Jabba strangulation, anyone?). Darth Vader becomes more complex as the trilogy progresses, from pure villain to a tragic figure, until he ends up doing what the heroes could not and destroying the Empire. Yoda embodies the maxim "don't judge by appearances" with his short height, old age, and status as one of the most powerful Jedi who ever lived. His speech mannerisms, which mimic Latin, and Japanese to a certain extent, identify him as someone who comes from a different time period but whom you can still understand. He's wise, wise enough to know he can't stop death, strong though he is. He's lived through many changing societies and has probably incorporated morals from all time periods into his way of living and teaching. He's been alive for nine hundred years and must have seen just about everything, which colors how he perceives and teaches Luke.
Back aboard the Falcon, Han and Leia have their moment. Han tries to touch Leia's hands, but she doesn't want him to. Slowly he moves towards her, and the two continue with their conversation until they mutually kiss, which Kershner likens to sex in a movie like this. Threepio breaks in, completely unaware of the moment he's broken up. Even when he sees the two kissing, he still has no idea what a special moment it is for them. He's a robot--he has no real emotions, only responses programmed into him, so he can't even apologise for the intrusion because he doesn't understand what Han and Leia were doing or why they might be upset when interrupted . Leia uses the distraction to slip out. Is she still a little unsure she wants to have a relationship with Han, even though she loves him? Is she concerned that he'll leave her soon and doesn't want to start something that will end so soon? Young as she is, is she startled by her own feelings? Han is understandably upset at the disruption, but doesn't pursue Leia, letting her go and respecting her choice to leave him even though he might want to continue kissing her. This is a real relationship we're watching unfold, not some contrived story with comical misunderstandings and pratfalls. It has a natural place in the grand scheme; unlike many action movies where the two main characters get together at the end for no other reason than to get together at the end (i.e. James Bond and many action movies), Leia and Han gravitate towards each other naturally and the love story fits into the fabric of the film, enriching the rest of the drama.
The Empire is still searching for the duo. In another interesting detail, we see the bridge of one of the ships destroyed by an asteroid. Cut to inside Vader's ship, where a transmission is being made by several captains. One of the men flickers out, having been killed. And Vader doesn't say anything about it, seeing his crew as expendable and easily replaceable. Great little moment. But as scary as Vader is, he still answers to one person--the Emperor, whom we then see for the first time. Only two or so mentions have been made of this figure so far, and to see him makes us fully understand that there is someone even more powerful than Vader in the galaxy. Vader may be strong and scary, but he answers to someone else. The Emperor tells him that their new enemy is Luke Skywalker and that he must not become a Jedi or he will destroy them. Vader responds that he will join them or die. Now we see some of why Vader is so interested in finding Luke. It also adds suspense to the story, as Luke faces no real danger on Dagobah. Once he leaves the planet, though, away from the presence of Yoda and the Dark cave, he's exposed.
On Dagobah, Luke discovers that the little creature is Yoda. John Williams' score meshes with the scene brilliantly in the scene in Yoda's hut when we hear his theme for the first time. Yoda's been around a long time. He's seen lots of young men and women like Luke who think they know everything better than the master and can do anything without having studied. Luke thinks he's ready to learn when in fact he has no idea what he's really in for. In season 3 of the series Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka goes to a sword master to ask to become his apprentice. Instead of proclaiming his worthiness, Sokka bows his head and says that he has a lot of learn and he doesn't even think he's worthy to be taught by a great master. This humility is what draws the master to Sokka, and he accepts Sokka as a student. Luke has none of this--he has no humility, no patience, and no true drive to be a Jedi beyond following in his Jedi father's footsteps, and the lack of these characteristics worry Yoda. Yoda is the last of the Jedi and Luke is the only apprentice who has come to him. Luke's all he's got to work with and he thinks that if Luke doesn't put all his energy into learning, or doesn't understand the nature of what he learns, the Jedi way will be lost forever. He can't really turn Luke away, though he would like to because Luke has issues that need to be dealt with before he can begin learning a whole knew philosophy. I feel that if there were a better contender, Yoda would definitely have refused Luke and trained somebody else. Luke, right now, is not the best person for the job, which puts us on edge about the fate of the galaxy and of our three leads. We don't have total confidence in him (Han doesn't either; as he says at the beginning of Return of the Jedi, he doesn't trust Luke to take care of himself), which is better than watching a hero whom we know will always succeed. Perfect heroes are dull; flawed ones are fascinating. All I can say is that the music, like every other piece of music in the trilogy, fits the mood perfectly. With just the music and without the dialogue, the scene would still work as it should, conveying Luke's antsiness and Yoda's misgivings.
Then we have a mysterious scene where the crew of the Falcon slowly discover that they are actually in the throat of a giant space creature instead of a cave. It opens up even more possibilities of a galaxy far, far away. How does that creature breathe? Does it need to? Is the space there not a vacuum? (Considering that we see explosions in space, that may very well be possible.) How does this creature eat on a daily basis? How did it even get there? These are little questions that don't need answers in order for us to understand and enjoy the film, but they do point to great differences and similarities between our galaxy and theirs. The fact that Leia is surprised at the cave being a creature while Han isn't shows that there are many things in their galaxy that they don't know all about yet, just as we don't know everything about our galaxy. Han, as a pilot, may have heard of these things while Leia, a Senator, hasn't. Fun, huh?
Back on Dagobah, Luke does some physical training while Yoda tells him about the Force. This scene contains a case where real life dictates the story's actions. Since Yoda is a puppet and can't run alongside Luke, he sits in a pack on Luke's back. Lucas says in the commentary that if they'd had digital technology in the 80s, Yoda would have been bouncing alongside Luke. I'm grateful that they didn't--Yoda bouncing up and down would have ruined the spooky atmosphere of the swamp and the serious mood of the story. Yoda in a backpack is the simplest and most effective way to do this scene. Yoda then tells Luke that the Force is used for defence and knowledge, not to attack others, and that the Dark side is consuming if you let it be. It's simple stuff, but sometimes simple is the most effective (as in the case with Yoda in the pack). This story is a fairy tale for the modern audience, and simplicity works well in fairy and morality stories. Yoda then tells Luke to go into a Dark cave, which contains "only what you take with you." It's Luke's own soul that he goes into. Since he cannot trust Yoda's advice that he won't need his weapons, he brings them along. If he didn't bring them, then he wouldn't have combat. The fear of combat would not manifest itself in the cave. Something else would, though what, the audience doesn't find out, as Luke never returns to the cave without his sabre.
He enters the cave and sees an apparition of Vader. The rest of the scene is shot in slow-motion to add to the unreality of the vision, a projection of the turmoil in his soul. It's also the most symbolic scene in the series. Actually, it's pure symbolism. Luke cuts off Vader's head and finds his own in the mask. It's foreshadowing, but more importantly, it symbolises what will happen if Luke continues to use violence and brash actions instead of more peaceful, deliberate means. He'll destroy himself. After the fight, the film cuts to Yoda, surely aware of all that is happening. He makes a simple grunt before the scene changes. As I said before, the tiny moments add up to greatness. Yoda knows what Luke encountered and expected it. His grunt says that he knew what would happen but sent Luke in anyway and knows he's got to change his mindset before he can embody the traits that Yoda imparts to him.
Vader is about to dispense the bounty hunters to find the Falcon, but the ship is spotted. It can't go into light speed, so they turn around and fly directly over the Empire's ship, mystifying the crew as the Falcon disappears from radar entirely. The scene ends without revealing what happened to Han and crew, giving the movie more suspense.
Then back to Dagobah in one of my favorite film scenes of all time. Luke is trying to lift some rocks with the Force; suddenly, his X-wing, the only way off the planet, starts sinking, and Luke, overcome with fear, loses concentration and falls to the ground. Now, having noticed after one hundred viewings that the ship is just fine in one shot and then rapidly sinking in the next, I have no doubt that Yoda pushed the ship back and made it sink just to set up another lesson for Luke. It's no big deal if Luke can't lift a rock. On the other hand, if he can't get his ship out of the swamp, he's not getting off the planet, as no one else knows where he is and he has no way to communicate with the outside world. That is another great thing these Dagobah scenes do. We have sequences where Luke interacts solely with Yoda and the planet. No outside influences seep in to disrupt his training, and for once he has only himself to rely on. Luke is effectively dead to the world; no one can help him and he can help nobody, which will gnaw on him in a later scene.
So, Luke is pessimistic about getting his ship out, saying that moving rocks and ships are "totally different." Yoda then says that the difference is only in his head, and how well this statement can be applied to just about anything in life. This combined with his later line, "Size matters not...Judge me by my size, do you?" is some very basic but important philosophy. There are no major differences between the sexes, different nationalities, people of different skin tones, heights, weights, hair colors, or religions. No important differences anyway, and certainly nothing big enough to warrant the classifications and extreme characteristics and stereotypes that society assigns to them. Yoda's wisdom can be applied to just about anything, and it's especially important that Luke grasps this concept. So Luke tries and fails, or, as Yoda would say, "do[es] not." Luke claims that he can't lift it because it's too big, to which Yoda supplies the line above, explaining that the Force is all around and can be used for anything if the person truly feels its presence. But Luke just cannot grasp this concept, leading to his failure. Luke's own prejudice of not being able to move something because it's too big and heavy is the very thing that's stopping him from doing it. Lifting a rock and a ship using his own muscles is different--there's a limit to how much weight a human can pick up. However, that situation is not applicable here, and Luke cannot see that the Force will work on a basketball and a boulder in the same way. Instead of trying to understand Yoda's point and a whole new way of thinking about things, Luke calls the situation "impossible" from his point-of-view and walks away.
Another teacher may have lectured Luke until Luke was ready to pull it off, but that's not what Yoda does. Deciding that the best way to teach is by doing the impossible thing himself in view of his pupil, Yoda closes his eyes and raises the ship out of the swamp to the amazement of Luke and Artoo. Artoo is a droid who's seen all kinds of scientific wizardry, but even this little droid knows that it's seeing something really special. Once again, the score is at its prime with a mellow rendition of Luke's theme followed by a triumphant version of Yoda's theme. Yoda opens his eyes and looks at Luke as if to say, "And you were saying it couldn't be done?" He also sighs with the implication that the ship-raising will be his final act using the Force. Luke then says, "I don't believe it!" to which Yoda responds, "That is why you fail." He doesn't fail because the move is too advanced--he fails because he doesn't think he can do it. His own negative opinions bring him down, not the tasks themselves. It's a great lesson that everybody can learn from. If you think you can't write a book, you may never try and find out that you actually can. If you think you could never be someone's friend because you have a prejudice against an entire group, then you will never know whether or not you might have become friends with that person. It's one of the many beautiful parts of the film. The lessons are timeless and applicable in many different situations. The same thing happens to Luke here as happens in the cave: he creates his own negative influences, and it's these things that stop him from achieving his goals, not any random acts that the universe throws at him. The scene touches us because we recognise the very same things in our lives.
The next scene starts with Needa choking and dying while Vader stands over him and says, "Apology accepted, Captain Needa." More reminders that incompetence of any kind will not be tolerated. He eerily reminds Piett, appointed Admiral in the stead of the one who was strangled at the beginning of the movie, to not fail again. Piett gained his rank through another's incompetence, and another officer could gain the Admiral rank if Piett messes up again. It turns out that the Falcon has attached itself to the Star Destroyer and shut down to avoid detection. Han and Leia decide that they will go to Bespin, where an swindler and friend of Han's, Lando, has set up a mining colony. As the ship detaches and floats away, Leia kisses Han on the cheek and tells him that this is one of his "moments," which he appreciates. She initiates this kiss--it's her choice, and it lets everybody know where she stands on her relationship with Han.
Once more, Luke is in training, but now is open to receiving the kinds of visions and feelings that Obi-Wan had when Alderaan was destroyed. Obi-Wan tells Luke in Star Wars that the Force will obey his commands, but it also will control his actions, and that's what it does in sending him visions. Luke is open to the Force now that he's seen what Yoda can do, but what Luke can't do is control the Force enough to limit the visions. All he thinks about is his friends being in danger and not the larger picture. He can't see that his coming to rescue them is exactly what the Empire wants. All he sees is that he is on this swamp planet when he should be rescuing his friends. He's acting impulsively for his own interests and without all the information. Yoda says that his friends might not even die, as the future is always uncertain. Nevertheless, Luke still wants to go to save them. This hero is not perfect, which makes him endearing and easy to relate to. I've seen so many other stories where heroes mature too quickly and accomplish everything without making any big mistakes, which makes for a dull narrative. They don't start out with any real flaws and progress through the story, learning only how to control more magic or getting one step closer to facing the Big Villain. Not realising that his own actions might cause that future to come about, Luke departs the planet, leaving Yoda saying, "And now, matters are worse." To add suspense, Yoda claims that if Luke fails, not all will be lost, as there is someone else whom they could turn to. So, Luke has been set up as expendable, not invincible, and very much able to fail.
End of Part II
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Greatness of "The Empire Strikes Back"
So, after those rants, I'm going to switch gears and go back to heaping praise on things. My favorite movie is, perhaps, The Empire Strikes Back. I loved it as a kid and love it even more today. Now, just because something's my favorite movie doesn't mean that I think it's the best movie. Sometimes you grow up and see that your favorite movies as a kid weren't that great. Other times, you see great things in them that you never noticed before. As time goes by, I realise how great of a movie The Empire Strikes Back is, and I would like to convey those feelings to you. Warning: please do not read this review if you have not seen the film and want to, as it is a detailed summary and will give away many all plot points.
(Credits so I don't get sued: This film was directed by Irvin Kershner, story by George Lucas, screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett, produced by George Lucas. 20th Century Fox, 1980. Starring Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher.)
The movie starts with the title and a summary, like Star Wars. We learn that the rebels have lost their base and are pursued by the Empire. Already, we know that things are going poorly for the heroes, which makes us want to keep watching and find out just how they're doing. We also learn that Vader is obsessed with finding Luke in particular, a foreshadowing of the great revelation at the end. We then see an Empire ship releasing droids to find the rebels' new location. Cut to the ice planet Hoth. Ice and snow is a great place to set the opening, as a snow desert is inherently dangerous to us--plant life is limited or nonexistant, food cannot be easily found, and exposure can kill in minutes. The cold is just one more oppressive force on the heroes and is a good start to this film in which the heroes don't win. We see Luke on an ice creature talking to Han about going to check out the Empire droid, which he thinks is a meteor. He is then attacked by an ice monster and dragged away. It's four minutes into the movie and our hero is already in great danger. We have a reason to keep watching. Great job. This movie achieves in its first scene what other movies fail to accomplish in the first twenty minutes--a reason to care and stick around to see where the story goes. Granted, it is a sequel and thus has less to explain, but even sequels can get bogged down in introductions, and this one doesn't. Starting the movie with danger and suspense gives us a forboding of the dark things that are coming in this second act of a trilogy.
Cut to Han returning to Echo Base, where he sees Leia. This is her first appearance in the film; she looks at him and then looks away. Already, we know that something has changed between them since we saw them at the awards ceremony at the end of Star Wars when they were smiling and winking at each other. We don't know if they were together, are together, or if someone or something came between them, but we're intrigued and want to know what the relationship between the two is. Han tells the general that he's going to leave to pay off Jabba, which means that he may not return. He then goes to Leia and says, "Well your Highness, I guess this is it." She responds flatly, like she couldn't care less about whether he stays or goes, "That's right." The audience thinks that Han might say something loving or give a fond farewell, but he subverts it with a smug "Well don't get all mushy on me, so long Princess." And he leaves. So that she has to come after him, as he knew she would. Wow. They have a great dialogue sequence as Han tries to get Leia to say she likes him, but she never gives in. The sparks and words between them are electrifying and leave the audience very interested in where their relationship will go.
Then we have the first appearance of the droids C-3P0 (Threepio) and R2-D2 (Artoo). They are arguing, and even though we don't know what the beeps and whistles mean, we understand exactly what Artoo is saying. Threepio ends with, "Oh, switch off." Yes, we're back. These are the same characters we know from Star Wars, and they're still doing what they were doing. Lucas and Kershner don't have to explain who or what everybody and everything is. They just present them and we remember, and we're happy to be back with these droids that have such human interactions. Threepio tells Han about Leia's concern that it's getting cold and dark outside and nobody knows where Luke is. Han responds with, "What do you mean, nobody knows?" What's so good about this moment is that it shows Han's genuine concern over his friend without being gushy and sentimental. Han doesn't become quiet and solemn; that's not Han. He's baffled, he's irritated, he's a bit angry, he's Han. He's not so cold inside that he can't show concern; he just displays it in his own style.
He decides to go out into the freezing weather to rescue Luke, which could kill him, but he doesn't care because the weather's getting too cold and his "friend's out in it." This is a huge moment for Han without drawing attention to that fact that it's a huge moment for Han. He wants to leave to pay back Jabba; he doesn't care about the Rebellion enough to stay and risk more bounty hunters coming after him. But he draws the line at the safety of his friends. He cares more about Luke's safety than his own, and certainly more than he cares about paying off a gangster. He's grown since the first movie. He doesn't care about risking himself for great causes, but he does care about others enough to risk his life. While not a selfless person, he's come a long way while retaining his roguish personality.
Luke escapes from the ice cave and the monster by using the Force. Though he technically used it in the end of the first movie, this is the first time when we really see him use the Force and witness the direct effects. He runs out into the snow and nearly freezes to death before Obi-Wan appears and tells him to seek the Jedi Yoda. Let me take a quick aside here to comment on the perceived mistake of Ben telling Luke that Yoda was his master and not Qui-Gon, as is revealed in the prequels. First of all, the prequels hadn't even been conceived when this film was made, so the mistake comes in the prequels for not matching up to this bit of information. Secondly, Qui-Gon has nothing to do with anything going on on Hoth, Dagobah, or in this trilogy. So why should Ben mention him? Luke is freezing--Ben tells Luke only the bare essentials that he needs to know. How would the conversation go if he did mention his old master? "You will learn from Yoda, the Jedi master who instructed me. Until I was about ten, then a guy named Qui-Gon took over and taught me most of what I knew before he got killed by a Sith and I took my own apprentice and..." Meanwhile Luke freezes to death... This information is completely unnecessary to the story, so Ben leaves it out. Think how messed up Luke would have been if he thought he had to go to the Qui-Gon system to seek Yodagobah.
Meanwhile, Leia is anxious that her friends haven't returned because the doors have to be closed. Kershner turns a normally mundane activity into a suspenseful event: closing the doors means closing them out in the snow, possibly to die. The implication is that the doors can't be opened after the temperature falls too low or the rebels risk the safety of the people inside. Chewie's growl as the doors close says everything. Here is yet another character who doesn't need to speak English (or whatever language the film is dubbed into) to communicate his sentiments. Han finds Luke and returns the next morning. It turns out that he has to stay longer until certain preparations are finished. Han provokes Leia by saying that the real reason Han can't leave is because she doesn't want a handsome man like him to leave. Then Leia kisses Luke--not out of lust, but to spite Han. Han thinks he's won and proven that Leia likes him while talking in front of Luke. She responds the best way she can in the situation--by kissing the other possible rival for her affection. Many fans interpret this kiss as an incestual passionate kiss. I don't think it is. Leia kisses Luke, looks at Han with an expression that says, "See? Would I be able to do that if I loved you?" and leaves. She doesn't love Luke--she wants to one-up Han. Han and Chewie then go out to take care of the Imperial probe droid, which prompts the rebels to start evacuating their base.
Then we see the Empire properly. It marks the first appearance of the "Imperial March" theme, and hearing it in conjunction with seeing a spaceship that's the size of France instills terror. The Death Star is gone, but the Empire is still doing fine. They have the money and resources to pursue the rebels wherever they go, and in the biggest starships that one can conceivably make. The Imperials discover the location of the base from the droid and prepare to go to Hoth. Then Vader gets scary. One of his officers has made a decision that alerted the rebels before the Empire was ready. Vader calls him on the intercom and Force chokes him to death simply by looking at him on a screen. Not only can Vader kill somebody without lifting a finger, he doesn't even have to be in the same room as him/her. Maybe he can do it from light-years away. That is a terrifying villain to have. The leash that Leia said Tarkin was keeping Vader on in Star Wars is gone. He will kill subordinates for infractions and immediately promote someone else to take their places. And if he has no problem killing those on his own side, then he won't have a problem doing the same to his enemies. You can't run away from this guy--he'll get you anyway if he wants to. If a villain is incompetent, then there is no suspense, and the viewers can't feel the struggle that the protagonists endure. For the audience to appreciate the heroes' victory, they have to go up against a good villain, and Darth Vader is a great villain in this movie.
Aside: does anyone else get the feeling that Ozzel is a Rebel sympathizer, or even a double agent? He pulls out of lightspeed too close to Hoth, alerting the Rebels. Earlier, he wasn't at all interested in the base Piett found and was ready to ignore it and not tell Vader. When Vader says that it is the base they're looking for, Ozzel tries to talk Vader out of it by claiming it could be anything else. He looks angry rather than excited at the end of the scene. Why would that be? Well...he could be a double agent for the Rebels and wanted to get word to them that the Empire was coming before telling the Empire about the base. When that wasn't possible because Vader found out about the base too soon, the only way for him to get word to the Rebellion was to pull out of hyperspace too close to the planet. Or, he's a sympathizer who hates the Empire and wants to help the Rebellion even if he can't be a part of it, so he does whatever he can to help them, even die for them. Maybe he doesn't have Rebel sympathies, but those scenes suddenly make more sense when you think about them like that.
The rebels know that Imperial forces are coming and they prepare for the battle. This next bit is just a little moment, but this film has so many little moments that they all add up to create one great movie. One of the rebels spots an AT-AT and calls it in. We then see Artoo gliding down the hall at the base, where some dirt from the ceiling falls on him (her? it? droids don't reproduce, so...). Even though the AT-ATs are almost too far away to be seen through binoculars, they are close enough to shake the dirt in the rebel base onto Artoo's dome. Once again, forboding and dread. And those elephant walkers are threatening.
Then there is the battle. It's an interesting one because it comes at the beginning of the film and because we have the oddest feeling that the rebels are not remotely going to win. They're going to do the best they can, but they probably can't stand up to those elephant walkers. This isn't the first movie anymore. They don't have any secrets to help them beat the Empire, they're not going to destroy any major Empire stations, they don't have any big advantages. All they can do is have their rag-tag team stall the Empire while everyone makes a getaway. That's really all that happens in this film in regards to the main rebels-against-the-Empire plot: the rebels get chased away from their base and regroup on the edge of the galaxy to plan for another attack. That is all. Is this bad for the film? Heavens no. This focus elevates rather than dampens the film because this film is not about the rebels fighting the Empire. It's about the spiritual and emotional journeys of Luke, Leia, and Han. They hide out from the Empire, develop relationships with others, grow spiritually, make terrible decisions and live with the consequences, if they're lucky enough to live through the consequences. But that comes later.
So they have the battle, which gives us some good action with A-wing ships toppling walkers, and Luke downing a walker with a lightsaber and a grenade. The Empire still gets through to the base, which the rebels knew would happen but just needed to stall long enough to get the major equipment off-planet. Han and Leia try to escape on the Falcon, which is having major issues with minor things like, you know, starting up. Han turns on the lights in the cockpit; they promptly turn off. He bangs his fist against the wall and lights come back on. It's a throwaway joke that shows us how similar a galaxy far, far away is. Even in technologically advanced societies where some people can lift things with their minds, all you have to do is bang your hand on the wall and the ship will start working again. It's a funny moment, which you need in a dark, serious movie, but it's not too funny. Something too funny would break the atmosphere of the movie. It's low-key instead of slapstick, natural instead of forced. That coupled with Leia's line about getting out and pushing feels real. The characters don't call attention to the humor. They're not trying to be funny, which is why the humor works. This film has many more moments like these that lighten the tension but don't come across as overwrought.
Han and Leia just barely escape. Luke also leaves Hoth in his X-wing in search of Dagobah. The main characters are now separated from each other and will be until the beginning of Return of the Jedi. They don't have each other to rely on like they did in Star Wars. Han and Leia stick together, but Luke is on his own.
End of Part I
(Credits so I don't get sued: This film was directed by Irvin Kershner, story by George Lucas, screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett, produced by George Lucas. 20th Century Fox, 1980. Starring Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher.)
The movie starts with the title and a summary, like Star Wars. We learn that the rebels have lost their base and are pursued by the Empire. Already, we know that things are going poorly for the heroes, which makes us want to keep watching and find out just how they're doing. We also learn that Vader is obsessed with finding Luke in particular, a foreshadowing of the great revelation at the end. We then see an Empire ship releasing droids to find the rebels' new location. Cut to the ice planet Hoth. Ice and snow is a great place to set the opening, as a snow desert is inherently dangerous to us--plant life is limited or nonexistant, food cannot be easily found, and exposure can kill in minutes. The cold is just one more oppressive force on the heroes and is a good start to this film in which the heroes don't win. We see Luke on an ice creature talking to Han about going to check out the Empire droid, which he thinks is a meteor. He is then attacked by an ice monster and dragged away. It's four minutes into the movie and our hero is already in great danger. We have a reason to keep watching. Great job. This movie achieves in its first scene what other movies fail to accomplish in the first twenty minutes--a reason to care and stick around to see where the story goes. Granted, it is a sequel and thus has less to explain, but even sequels can get bogged down in introductions, and this one doesn't. Starting the movie with danger and suspense gives us a forboding of the dark things that are coming in this second act of a trilogy.
Cut to Han returning to Echo Base, where he sees Leia. This is her first appearance in the film; she looks at him and then looks away. Already, we know that something has changed between them since we saw them at the awards ceremony at the end of Star Wars when they were smiling and winking at each other. We don't know if they were together, are together, or if someone or something came between them, but we're intrigued and want to know what the relationship between the two is. Han tells the general that he's going to leave to pay off Jabba, which means that he may not return. He then goes to Leia and says, "Well your Highness, I guess this is it." She responds flatly, like she couldn't care less about whether he stays or goes, "That's right." The audience thinks that Han might say something loving or give a fond farewell, but he subverts it with a smug "Well don't get all mushy on me, so long Princess." And he leaves. So that she has to come after him, as he knew she would. Wow. They have a great dialogue sequence as Han tries to get Leia to say she likes him, but she never gives in. The sparks and words between them are electrifying and leave the audience very interested in where their relationship will go.
Then we have the first appearance of the droids C-3P0 (Threepio) and R2-D2 (Artoo). They are arguing, and even though we don't know what the beeps and whistles mean, we understand exactly what Artoo is saying. Threepio ends with, "Oh, switch off." Yes, we're back. These are the same characters we know from Star Wars, and they're still doing what they were doing. Lucas and Kershner don't have to explain who or what everybody and everything is. They just present them and we remember, and we're happy to be back with these droids that have such human interactions. Threepio tells Han about Leia's concern that it's getting cold and dark outside and nobody knows where Luke is. Han responds with, "What do you mean, nobody knows?" What's so good about this moment is that it shows Han's genuine concern over his friend without being gushy and sentimental. Han doesn't become quiet and solemn; that's not Han. He's baffled, he's irritated, he's a bit angry, he's Han. He's not so cold inside that he can't show concern; he just displays it in his own style.
He decides to go out into the freezing weather to rescue Luke, which could kill him, but he doesn't care because the weather's getting too cold and his "friend's out in it." This is a huge moment for Han without drawing attention to that fact that it's a huge moment for Han. He wants to leave to pay back Jabba; he doesn't care about the Rebellion enough to stay and risk more bounty hunters coming after him. But he draws the line at the safety of his friends. He cares more about Luke's safety than his own, and certainly more than he cares about paying off a gangster. He's grown since the first movie. He doesn't care about risking himself for great causes, but he does care about others enough to risk his life. While not a selfless person, he's come a long way while retaining his roguish personality.
Luke escapes from the ice cave and the monster by using the Force. Though he technically used it in the end of the first movie, this is the first time when we really see him use the Force and witness the direct effects. He runs out into the snow and nearly freezes to death before Obi-Wan appears and tells him to seek the Jedi Yoda. Let me take a quick aside here to comment on the perceived mistake of Ben telling Luke that Yoda was his master and not Qui-Gon, as is revealed in the prequels. First of all, the prequels hadn't even been conceived when this film was made, so the mistake comes in the prequels for not matching up to this bit of information. Secondly, Qui-Gon has nothing to do with anything going on on Hoth, Dagobah, or in this trilogy. So why should Ben mention him? Luke is freezing--Ben tells Luke only the bare essentials that he needs to know. How would the conversation go if he did mention his old master? "You will learn from Yoda, the Jedi master who instructed me. Until I was about ten, then a guy named Qui-Gon took over and taught me most of what I knew before he got killed by a Sith and I took my own apprentice and..." Meanwhile Luke freezes to death... This information is completely unnecessary to the story, so Ben leaves it out. Think how messed up Luke would have been if he thought he had to go to the Qui-Gon system to seek Yodagobah.
Meanwhile, Leia is anxious that her friends haven't returned because the doors have to be closed. Kershner turns a normally mundane activity into a suspenseful event: closing the doors means closing them out in the snow, possibly to die. The implication is that the doors can't be opened after the temperature falls too low or the rebels risk the safety of the people inside. Chewie's growl as the doors close says everything. Here is yet another character who doesn't need to speak English (or whatever language the film is dubbed into) to communicate his sentiments. Han finds Luke and returns the next morning. It turns out that he has to stay longer until certain preparations are finished. Han provokes Leia by saying that the real reason Han can't leave is because she doesn't want a handsome man like him to leave. Then Leia kisses Luke--not out of lust, but to spite Han. Han thinks he's won and proven that Leia likes him while talking in front of Luke. She responds the best way she can in the situation--by kissing the other possible rival for her affection. Many fans interpret this kiss as an incestual passionate kiss. I don't think it is. Leia kisses Luke, looks at Han with an expression that says, "See? Would I be able to do that if I loved you?" and leaves. She doesn't love Luke--she wants to one-up Han. Han and Chewie then go out to take care of the Imperial probe droid, which prompts the rebels to start evacuating their base.
Then we see the Empire properly. It marks the first appearance of the "Imperial March" theme, and hearing it in conjunction with seeing a spaceship that's the size of France instills terror. The Death Star is gone, but the Empire is still doing fine. They have the money and resources to pursue the rebels wherever they go, and in the biggest starships that one can conceivably make. The Imperials discover the location of the base from the droid and prepare to go to Hoth. Then Vader gets scary. One of his officers has made a decision that alerted the rebels before the Empire was ready. Vader calls him on the intercom and Force chokes him to death simply by looking at him on a screen. Not only can Vader kill somebody without lifting a finger, he doesn't even have to be in the same room as him/her. Maybe he can do it from light-years away. That is a terrifying villain to have. The leash that Leia said Tarkin was keeping Vader on in Star Wars is gone. He will kill subordinates for infractions and immediately promote someone else to take their places. And if he has no problem killing those on his own side, then he won't have a problem doing the same to his enemies. You can't run away from this guy--he'll get you anyway if he wants to. If a villain is incompetent, then there is no suspense, and the viewers can't feel the struggle that the protagonists endure. For the audience to appreciate the heroes' victory, they have to go up against a good villain, and Darth Vader is a great villain in this movie.
Aside: does anyone else get the feeling that Ozzel is a Rebel sympathizer, or even a double agent? He pulls out of lightspeed too close to Hoth, alerting the Rebels. Earlier, he wasn't at all interested in the base Piett found and was ready to ignore it and not tell Vader. When Vader says that it is the base they're looking for, Ozzel tries to talk Vader out of it by claiming it could be anything else. He looks angry rather than excited at the end of the scene. Why would that be? Well...he could be a double agent for the Rebels and wanted to get word to them that the Empire was coming before telling the Empire about the base. When that wasn't possible because Vader found out about the base too soon, the only way for him to get word to the Rebellion was to pull out of hyperspace too close to the planet. Or, he's a sympathizer who hates the Empire and wants to help the Rebellion even if he can't be a part of it, so he does whatever he can to help them, even die for them. Maybe he doesn't have Rebel sympathies, but those scenes suddenly make more sense when you think about them like that.
The rebels know that Imperial forces are coming and they prepare for the battle. This next bit is just a little moment, but this film has so many little moments that they all add up to create one great movie. One of the rebels spots an AT-AT and calls it in. We then see Artoo gliding down the hall at the base, where some dirt from the ceiling falls on him (her? it? droids don't reproduce, so...). Even though the AT-ATs are almost too far away to be seen through binoculars, they are close enough to shake the dirt in the rebel base onto Artoo's dome. Once again, forboding and dread. And those elephant walkers are threatening.
Then there is the battle. It's an interesting one because it comes at the beginning of the film and because we have the oddest feeling that the rebels are not remotely going to win. They're going to do the best they can, but they probably can't stand up to those elephant walkers. This isn't the first movie anymore. They don't have any secrets to help them beat the Empire, they're not going to destroy any major Empire stations, they don't have any big advantages. All they can do is have their rag-tag team stall the Empire while everyone makes a getaway. That's really all that happens in this film in regards to the main rebels-against-the-Empire plot: the rebels get chased away from their base and regroup on the edge of the galaxy to plan for another attack. That is all. Is this bad for the film? Heavens no. This focus elevates rather than dampens the film because this film is not about the rebels fighting the Empire. It's about the spiritual and emotional journeys of Luke, Leia, and Han. They hide out from the Empire, develop relationships with others, grow spiritually, make terrible decisions and live with the consequences, if they're lucky enough to live through the consequences. But that comes later.
So they have the battle, which gives us some good action with A-wing ships toppling walkers, and Luke downing a walker with a lightsaber and a grenade. The Empire still gets through to the base, which the rebels knew would happen but just needed to stall long enough to get the major equipment off-planet. Han and Leia try to escape on the Falcon, which is having major issues with minor things like, you know, starting up. Han turns on the lights in the cockpit; they promptly turn off. He bangs his fist against the wall and lights come back on. It's a throwaway joke that shows us how similar a galaxy far, far away is. Even in technologically advanced societies where some people can lift things with their minds, all you have to do is bang your hand on the wall and the ship will start working again. It's a funny moment, which you need in a dark, serious movie, but it's not too funny. Something too funny would break the atmosphere of the movie. It's low-key instead of slapstick, natural instead of forced. That coupled with Leia's line about getting out and pushing feels real. The characters don't call attention to the humor. They're not trying to be funny, which is why the humor works. This film has many more moments like these that lighten the tension but don't come across as overwrought.
Han and Leia just barely escape. Luke also leaves Hoth in his X-wing in search of Dagobah. The main characters are now separated from each other and will be until the beginning of Return of the Jedi. They don't have each other to rely on like they did in Star Wars. Han and Leia stick together, but Luke is on his own.
End of Part I
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Things We Learned from "Whose Line Is It Anyway?"
Things We Learned from Whose Line is it Anyway?
1) Africa is a continent.
2) Snagglepuss should not put out a rap album.
3) Coffee really is quite hot.
4) Bill Cosby and Hitler would be unlikely roommates.
5) Christopher Walken should not do stand-up.
6) Tacos taste good with a little bit of paper.
7) Lattes will make you micro-soft.
8) Sperm banks have ATMs.
9) There's a home shopping channel for serial killers.
10) When Santa retires, he’ll move to Mexico, take up guitar and turn his reindeer into a carpet.
11) “Dingisher” rhymes with “extinguisher.”
12) Kid Rock is just one guy.
13) Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett’s marriage isn’t legal in Texas .
14) Jim Bowie liked to dress as a French maid.
15) Friar Tuck is called “Tuck” because the belly covers everything when he’s nude.
16) “Luck” and “wow” rhyme.
17) Neon lights will break if you smash your head into them.
18) Batman is gay.
19) “Mary Had a Little Lamb” is also the name of an animal porn movie.
20) “Milk Duds” is a type of bra.
21) If you get an astronomy degree, you’ll end up delivering pizza.
22) African chants have white men doing backup.
23) Howard is not spelled “Horward.”
24) Colin’s bald.
25) You can see Ryan’s shoes from the moon.
26) Balding men are the greatest lovers in the world.
27) The arctic tern’s cry sounds like “Backstreet boys.”
28) If you pummel someone with an Energizer, you’ll be charged with assault with a battery.
29) Dinosaurs had B.O. and now they’re all extinct.
30) Mimes should not sing.
31) The Village People do polkas.
32) Obi-Wan Kenobi secretly wanted to be known as Helen.
33) If you drink and drive, drive real fast.
34) And eat lots of mints, it fools the cops.
35) Ryan has nice pants.
36) Yogi Bear is not a Muppet.
37) They sell shower mirrors at prison gift shops.
38) Never Riverdance in a thong.
39) For the next fifty years, there will be sun in L.A. and rain in Seattle .
40) You can get a massage over the Internet, but you have to use your own hands.
41) Drew doesn’t do a d--- thing.
42) Never deliver a sermon as John Wayne.
43) The My Little Ponies take methyldexamphetaminesulphates.
44) If you’re confronted by a street gang, never start a tickle fight.
45) 1930’s strip clubs are wrong on so many levels.
46) This show was brought to you by the letter h.
47) Stripping as Goofy is just wrong.
48) The Wicked Witch of the West cannot be differentiated from Barbara Bush.
49) In times of trouble, Captain Bloodloss will be there.
50) E.T. was not in “Close Encounters.”
51) Carol Channing should not play Spartacus.
52) As long as there have been presidents, there have been songs about them.
53) The points don’t matter.
54) For one there was even a dance.
55) A dougie is a Canadian beaver.
56) Virginity has been abolished in southern California .
57) Yeah, there was a dance for John Adams.
58) Bungee jumping is really dangerous if you don’t tie the other end.
59) Beasts love kielbasas.
60) Velociraptors do not make good pets.
61) It was called the John Adams dance. It didn’t go very far.
62) You can power a DeLorean on static electricity.
63) Yogi Bear killed Boo Boo.
64) Scottish Gremlins don't buy drinks.
64) Scottish Gremlins don't buy drinks.
It's All About Respect, People
Sorry, but I have to have another rant (and I'm being very serious here). I notice an alarming lack of respect for others' opinions in the Internet. Even more alarmingly, I note that many attacks are on the persons supplying the opinions rather than on the opinions themselves.
I hate Pulp Fiction. I can't stand the characters and I don't appreciate the story being told or the way it's being told. It did not entertain me and I had to watch it in thirty-minute installments to get through it. It was no Goodfellas. BUT, I will never insult anyone for saying that they like it. I can see how its fans like it for the dialogue (I will admit, there were a few lines from Samuel L. Jackson that I liked--the stuff about Marcellus Wallace), view of the gangster world, and nonlinear storytelling. It did nothing for me, but if you enjoy it, fine. Though I may disagree with your opinion, I defend your right to have it and will certainly not think you're a horrible person because we don't agree.
This is where I see problems with the way some people in the Internet express their opinions. They not only criticise and insult the work, they insult they person. This is a logical fallacy known as ad hominem, attacking the person making the argument instead of the argument itself. When I did my "Animation and the Eyes of Doom" post, I made an argument and backed up my points. I never called anyone stupid because they didn't have the same belief as I did. I disagreed with the misconception people have about animated eyes instead of the people themselves.
Because it draws such sharp lines of love/hate, I will use anime as an example. I cannot tell you how much hate I have seen online for not only anime itself, but for anime fans. Just type in "why do people like anime" in a search engine. Some will attack anime itself, which is fine, as long as they have reasons to back it up. As with everything, some critiques are based on ignorance--"big eyes" (which exist in all animation) and false claims that anime lacks variety, when anime combines genres in ways that Hollywood has never done, and that all anime look the same, which, if you watch some, you will quickly realise that they do not. Mostly these are generalizations that classify all of something based on one representation of it, which I do not like to do. I dislike Pulp Fiction, but not the crime genre of movies in general, so I don't avoid them just because I had one bad experience. Otherwise, I'm going to miss a lot of good stories. Other criticisms are well-founded: they don't like the fanservice (neither do I), they don't like the voice acting (Japanese or English), they don't like the lack of movement in the characters, they don't like the way that some anime end. Fine--make your arguments respectfully and clearly, and we can have a conversation.
Ad hominem is where I lose my tolerance. A talented reviewer who styles himself "Confused Matthew" has done some excellent reviews. He believes that the Star Wars prequels are of poor quality and are badly written, and his videos strongly back up his opinion. He even lets the movies criticise themselves by setting two contradictory lines in one scene of Star Wars: The Clone Wars next to each other and looping them. However, during his review of Spirited Away (which had some problems in it), he makes the most conceited, immature, and downright irresponsible comment I have ever heard a reviewer say: "I don't like anime and I can't understand why anyone else does." Then he flashes a picture of InuYasha (yeah, because if he flashed a picture of Tokyo Godfathers or Haibane Renmei, viewers would have laughed at him for his ignorance). I may dislike Pulp Fiction, but I would never say that I couldn't see why anybody liked it. To make such a statement injures a reviewer's credibility. Okay, he has a right to say he doesn't like anime, though it does seem strange to hate an entire medium. His depiction of "all anime" seems to be fantasy/action pieces, rather than the extensive genre/genre combinations that anime is capable of--drama, various types of fantasy, horror, comedy, historical drama, literary adaptations, slice-of-life, war, action, science fiction, action/drama, war/fantasy, science fiction/literary adaptation, fantasy/drama/slice-of-life, etc. If he's only seen one movie and one show, it would be like hearing the song "The Wheel on the Bus Go Round and Round" and saying you hate all music. They're generalisations, which are dangerous because I don't think that you should try to classify things you've never seen.
But I digress. When he says that he can't see why anyone likes it, he implies that his opinion is the only right one--he doesn't like anime and nobody should. It's an insult to his viewers who find a lot to like in the MEDIUM (he incorrectly labels anime as a genre instead of a medium). With those statements, he says that he doesn't like it, nobody else should, and implies anybody who likes it has bad taste. I once talked to a person about how good I, Claudius is, and he said, and I quote, "How good can it be if I haven't heard of it?" As if the benchmark for greatness was whether or not he personally knew about it. That's ignorance, closed-mindedness, and conceit. We need less of that and more tolerance and open-mindedness. (That comment is also a really strange one, considering that up until some point in your life, you hadn't heard of your favorite movie, book, song, or met your best friend.)
He also is irresponsible for telling us that he hates anime and then never explaining what he doesn't like about it. If a reviewer doesn't like something, he/she should be prepared to say why. I don't like Pulp Fiction, but that doesn't mean that I don't like all gangster movies: I like Goodfellas and I like The Godfather more. I just didn't like Tarantino's movie, and I gave some reasons why. Matthew never did so, so that makes it harder for me to accept his views. Even taking a minute or two to explain what he doesn't like would be a great way to understand him. I respect his right to not like it, but not his right to say that nobody should like it because he doesn't understand it.
I will point out two problems with his review, since I brought it up: he read a review that labeled Chihiro as a spoiled child, and then criticized the movie for not portraying her as a spoiled child, instead of the reviewer who incorrectly called Chihiro a spoiled child. He also criticises the movie for never explaining who the spirits are. These spirits are Shinto gods, which the Japanese target audience would be very familiar with and would not need an explanation about. Just as films from the United States don't stop to explain who God and Jesus are, Spirited Away does not need to explain who the Shinto spirits are.
But even worse is a certain reviewer on YouTube who posted a video on "Why Anime Sucks." He starts by flipping off the audience and saying something akin to, "Hey anime fans, f--- you motherf-------" You would think from his hate and rage that every anime fan in the world teamed together and killed everyone in his family, destroyed the ozone layer, and assassinated the Dalai Lama. No other catastrophe could merit that kind of hateful response. As a reviewer, I should have stayed around to view the whole thing, but I could not, with that opening, do it. If profanity and insults are the way you argue things, you have no good argument. Good arguments don't need to insult the people holding another opinion; good arguments know that insulting others is a fallacy that doesn't back up a belief. You can insult others all day long, but it doesn't do anything to convey your opinion that Pulp Fiction is a good or bad movie. I don't go around saying, "Hey, Quentin Tarantino fans, suck eggs and die!" Why? They haven't done anything to me. I have nothing against the people. One of my friends' favorite movies is Pulp Fiction. She likes it, I don't, and that's it--I didn't tell her to "f--- off" when I found that out. I thought that The Pacific was poorly done, but I won't call anybody who likes it stupid. What good will it do to hate the people liking it when it's the thing itself that you don't like?
I'm not going to recommend any anime to anybody. I truly believe that there is anime out there for everybody, just as I believe there's music, literature, theatre, movies, and paintings out there for everyone, as anime is just another medium for telling a story. But, some people don't like to be pummeled with suggestions, so I will refrain from doing so. Besides, this isn't about forcing anyone to watch anime or not watch Pulp Fiction; it's about understanding and respect, not assuming your opinion is the only way to go, and not getting taken away with generalisations that say that the entirely of something is bad just because one representation of it is.
Thanks for reading. I'll be back to my reviewing self next time.
I hate Pulp Fiction. I can't stand the characters and I don't appreciate the story being told or the way it's being told. It did not entertain me and I had to watch it in thirty-minute installments to get through it. It was no Goodfellas. BUT, I will never insult anyone for saying that they like it. I can see how its fans like it for the dialogue (I will admit, there were a few lines from Samuel L. Jackson that I liked--the stuff about Marcellus Wallace), view of the gangster world, and nonlinear storytelling. It did nothing for me, but if you enjoy it, fine. Though I may disagree with your opinion, I defend your right to have it and will certainly not think you're a horrible person because we don't agree.
This is where I see problems with the way some people in the Internet express their opinions. They not only criticise and insult the work, they insult they person. This is a logical fallacy known as ad hominem, attacking the person making the argument instead of the argument itself. When I did my "Animation and the Eyes of Doom" post, I made an argument and backed up my points. I never called anyone stupid because they didn't have the same belief as I did. I disagreed with the misconception people have about animated eyes instead of the people themselves.
Because it draws such sharp lines of love/hate, I will use anime as an example. I cannot tell you how much hate I have seen online for not only anime itself, but for anime fans. Just type in "why do people like anime" in a search engine. Some will attack anime itself, which is fine, as long as they have reasons to back it up. As with everything, some critiques are based on ignorance--"big eyes" (which exist in all animation) and false claims that anime lacks variety, when anime combines genres in ways that Hollywood has never done, and that all anime look the same, which, if you watch some, you will quickly realise that they do not. Mostly these are generalizations that classify all of something based on one representation of it, which I do not like to do. I dislike Pulp Fiction, but not the crime genre of movies in general, so I don't avoid them just because I had one bad experience. Otherwise, I'm going to miss a lot of good stories. Other criticisms are well-founded: they don't like the fanservice (neither do I), they don't like the voice acting (Japanese or English), they don't like the lack of movement in the characters, they don't like the way that some anime end. Fine--make your arguments respectfully and clearly, and we can have a conversation.
Ad hominem is where I lose my tolerance. A talented reviewer who styles himself "Confused Matthew" has done some excellent reviews. He believes that the Star Wars prequels are of poor quality and are badly written, and his videos strongly back up his opinion. He even lets the movies criticise themselves by setting two contradictory lines in one scene of Star Wars: The Clone Wars next to each other and looping them. However, during his review of Spirited Away (which had some problems in it), he makes the most conceited, immature, and downright irresponsible comment I have ever heard a reviewer say: "I don't like anime and I can't understand why anyone else does." Then he flashes a picture of InuYasha (yeah, because if he flashed a picture of Tokyo Godfathers or Haibane Renmei, viewers would have laughed at him for his ignorance). I may dislike Pulp Fiction, but I would never say that I couldn't see why anybody liked it. To make such a statement injures a reviewer's credibility. Okay, he has a right to say he doesn't like anime, though it does seem strange to hate an entire medium. His depiction of "all anime" seems to be fantasy/action pieces, rather than the extensive genre/genre combinations that anime is capable of--drama, various types of fantasy, horror, comedy, historical drama, literary adaptations, slice-of-life, war, action, science fiction, action/drama, war/fantasy, science fiction/literary adaptation, fantasy/drama/slice-of-life, etc. If he's only seen one movie and one show, it would be like hearing the song "The Wheel on the Bus Go Round and Round" and saying you hate all music. They're generalisations, which are dangerous because I don't think that you should try to classify things you've never seen.
But I digress. When he says that he can't see why anyone likes it, he implies that his opinion is the only right one--he doesn't like anime and nobody should. It's an insult to his viewers who find a lot to like in the MEDIUM (he incorrectly labels anime as a genre instead of a medium). With those statements, he says that he doesn't like it, nobody else should, and implies anybody who likes it has bad taste. I once talked to a person about how good I, Claudius is, and he said, and I quote, "How good can it be if I haven't heard of it?" As if the benchmark for greatness was whether or not he personally knew about it. That's ignorance, closed-mindedness, and conceit. We need less of that and more tolerance and open-mindedness. (That comment is also a really strange one, considering that up until some point in your life, you hadn't heard of your favorite movie, book, song, or met your best friend.)
He also is irresponsible for telling us that he hates anime and then never explaining what he doesn't like about it. If a reviewer doesn't like something, he/she should be prepared to say why. I don't like Pulp Fiction, but that doesn't mean that I don't like all gangster movies: I like Goodfellas and I like The Godfather more. I just didn't like Tarantino's movie, and I gave some reasons why. Matthew never did so, so that makes it harder for me to accept his views. Even taking a minute or two to explain what he doesn't like would be a great way to understand him. I respect his right to not like it, but not his right to say that nobody should like it because he doesn't understand it.
I will point out two problems with his review, since I brought it up: he read a review that labeled Chihiro as a spoiled child, and then criticized the movie for not portraying her as a spoiled child, instead of the reviewer who incorrectly called Chihiro a spoiled child. He also criticises the movie for never explaining who the spirits are. These spirits are Shinto gods, which the Japanese target audience would be very familiar with and would not need an explanation about. Just as films from the United States don't stop to explain who God and Jesus are, Spirited Away does not need to explain who the Shinto spirits are.
But even worse is a certain reviewer on YouTube who posted a video on "Why Anime Sucks." He starts by flipping off the audience and saying something akin to, "Hey anime fans, f--- you motherf-------" You would think from his hate and rage that every anime fan in the world teamed together and killed everyone in his family, destroyed the ozone layer, and assassinated the Dalai Lama. No other catastrophe could merit that kind of hateful response. As a reviewer, I should have stayed around to view the whole thing, but I could not, with that opening, do it. If profanity and insults are the way you argue things, you have no good argument. Good arguments don't need to insult the people holding another opinion; good arguments know that insulting others is a fallacy that doesn't back up a belief. You can insult others all day long, but it doesn't do anything to convey your opinion that Pulp Fiction is a good or bad movie. I don't go around saying, "Hey, Quentin Tarantino fans, suck eggs and die!" Why? They haven't done anything to me. I have nothing against the people. One of my friends' favorite movies is Pulp Fiction. She likes it, I don't, and that's it--I didn't tell her to "f--- off" when I found that out. I thought that The Pacific was poorly done, but I won't call anybody who likes it stupid. What good will it do to hate the people liking it when it's the thing itself that you don't like?
I'm not going to recommend any anime to anybody. I truly believe that there is anime out there for everybody, just as I believe there's music, literature, theatre, movies, and paintings out there for everyone, as anime is just another medium for telling a story. But, some people don't like to be pummeled with suggestions, so I will refrain from doing so. Besides, this isn't about forcing anyone to watch anime or not watch Pulp Fiction; it's about understanding and respect, not assuming your opinion is the only way to go, and not getting taken away with generalisations that say that the entirely of something is bad just because one representation of it is.
Thanks for reading. I'll be back to my reviewing self next time.
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