Guest Post: This Has All Happened Before, And It Will All Happen Again: The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

 

This Has All Happened Before, And It Will All Happen Again: The Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

 

by Michael Giammarino

 

1. The Generation Gap

 

 

Everybody has their Star Wars; the Star Wars they grew up with. My generation, Generation X, had the original trilogy. If you're the generation after mine, you might have grown up with the special editions, and that's your Star Wars. Or you may have discovered Star Wars with the prequels. You may be the generation of The Clone Wars. The current generation found Star Wars with the sequels, spin-offs and Disney+ series. And each generation's Star Wars fan responds to another generation's Star Wars differently. The special editions didn't go over swimmingly with my generation. I admit even I have my quibbles with them. But I accept them, partly out of respect for George Lucas, and because, for the most part, they intersect more appropriately with the rest of it all. So I can put away my feelings toward Greedo shooting first, or Greedo (currently) shooting at the same time as Han, or maclunkey!, in A New Hope; I can grit my teeth over the replacement dialogue in The Empire Strikes Back I don't like; I can even pretend Jedi Rocks doesn't exist, even while I'm watching it being performed as I watch Return of the Jedi. And I accept the absence of Yub Nub, inclusion of a Hayden Christensen Anakin Skywalker Force ghost, and the removal of Sebastian Shaw's Anakin Skywalker Force ghost, because what's there now resonates with the prequels more. And I do admire the prequels. Hell, if I'm being honest, and I should be honest, I've never met a Star Wars movie or show I didn't like. At least, up till now, anyway. That must make me a truly odd duck, indeed. I'm sure there are others like me. I know there must be others who are like me. You'd never know it from spending any time on social media, that's for sure. But I lived through the special editions, and the prequels. I lived through the Fandom turning on George Lucas. And if you haven't lived through it, I recommend you watch The People vs George Lucas. That documents it all quite nicely. So let's say, the Fandom turning on Kathy Kennedy, JJ Abrams, and Rian Johnson doesn't really surprise me or sway my opinion for the sequels or anything that came after. 

 

To the Star Wars fans who can't stand the sequels, I'm going to put this out here right up front: I've heard it all before. Rey is this, Rey is that. JJ Abrams this, JJ Abrams that. Kathy Kennedy this, Kathy Kennedy that. Rian Johnson this, Ruin Johnson that. I know, I know. But you've gotta realize up front, I don't agree with you. But I can promise you, for many of you who read this, this is going to be a fresh take. Perhaps, to some, even a hot take. And I already know, you're most likely not going to agree with me. So if you want to check out my read on the films regardless, press on. (All films are subjective, after all.) If not, stop here. There's no reason to aggravate yourself if my stance doesn't jive with yours, or you're not open to fresh perspectives. 

 

Just warning you now. 

 

Okay, so I'm sure I've already lost some of you. But if you're still here, put down your blasters and your lightsabers. I come in peace. No pew pew pews or hums and sizzles are necessary. I get it, the sequels are a sore spot for a lot of Star Wars fans. The prequels were too, in their day. I can still remember leaving Spring Hill 8 after a Thursday midnight preview screening of The Phantom Menace. While I was intrigued by how much it reminded me of Return of the Jedi (and keep in mind, this is before I knew anything about chiastic structure, or ring theory, and years before Mike Klimo wrote his vital essay on the subject), the other people at my screening weren't as fascinated by what they saw. The first dissenter to storm out the door bellowed into the night, irate: "What the fuck was THAT??" And that became the common attitude for not only The Phantom Menace, but the prequel trilogy as a whole, for about sixteen years, until the second generation of Star Wars fans came of age to vocally drown out the diatribes coming from Star Wars fans of my generation who couldn't stand those movies. 

 

Whenever I look at the savage reaction towards the sequels on social media, I always remember the treatment the prequels got. Particularly, I remember Chefelf's The Nitpicker's Guide to Star Wars, which included 78 Reasons to Hate Star Wars: Episode I, 64 Reasons to Hate Star Wars: Episode II, 91 Reasons to Hate Star Wars: Episode III, and pages casting aspersions on the original trilogy special editions for good measure. I think about Red Letter Media's notorious takedown of the prequels. Simon Pegg's diatribe against Jar Jar Binks on Spaced. And, most notorious of all, The People Vs George Lucas, the 2010 documentary chronicling the fan reaction towards the special editions and the prequels, accusing George of betraying my generation of Star Wars fans with subpar films. 

 

Even at the height of their divisiveness, I really never had a problem with the prequels; and I'm the same way with the sequels. When the heat against the prequels were at their peak, I defended them at every opportunity, against the most myopic criticism. It usually didn't do much good, but I stood up for those films. I guess any fan would, for the movies they love. 

 

And yet, the original trilogy wasn't immune to criticism, either. 

 

Grande dame of film critics, Pauline Kael, threw daggers at Star Wars in 1977:

 

"George Lucas has got the tone of bad movies down pat: you never catch the actors deliberately

acting badly; they just seem to be bad actors, on contract to Monogram or Republic, their klunky

enthusiasm polished at the Ricky Nelson school of acting.”

“Star Wars” is like getting a box of Cracker Jack which is all prizes. This is the writer-director George Lucas’s own film, subject to no business interference, yet it’s a film that’s totally uninterested in anything that doesn’t connect with the mass audience. There’s no breather in the picture, no lyricism; the only attempt at beauty is in the double sunset. It’s enjoyable on its own terms, but it’s exhausting, too: like taking a pack of kids to the circus. An hour into it, children say that they’re ready to see it again; that’s because it’s an assemblage of spare parts—it has no emotional grip. “Star Wars” may be the only movie in which the first time around the surprises are reassuring…. It’s an epic without a dream. But it’s probably the absence of wonder that accounts for the film’s special, huge success. The excitement of those who call it the film of the year goes way past nostalgia to the feeling that now is the time to return to childhood.” 

 

John Simon of New York Magazine said:

 

Strip 'Star Wars' of its often-striking images and its highfalutin scientific jargon, and you get a story, characters, and dialogue of overwhelming banality, without even a "future" cast to them. Human beings, anthropoids, or robots, you could probably find them all, more or less like, that, in downtown Los Angeles today... O dull new world! 

 

The New Republic said:

 

The only way that 'Star Wars' could have been interesting was through its visual imagination and special effects. Both are unexceptional. ... I kept looking for an 'edge,' to peer around the corny, solemn comic-book strophes; he was facing them frontally and full. This picture was made for those (particularly males) who carry a portable shrine within them of their adolescence, a chalice of a Self that was Better Then, before the world's affairs or - in any complex way - sex intruded. 

 

Kathleen Carroll in The New York Daily News:

 

Star Wars is somewhat grounded by a malfunctioning script and hopelessly infantile dialogue… Surrounded by these fascinating creatures, the actors barely hold their own. To be sure, Mark Hamill has a bland-bland-faced innocence as Skywalker, and Carrie Fisher is comically plucky as the distressed Princess Leia, but Harrison Ford hams it up terribly as Han Solo, a cynical space pirate who has flown from one side of this galaxy to another and seen a lot of stuff. 

 

In an article reiterating the first time George screened Star Wars for his movie brat friends ("Why is the Force Still With Us?"), The New Yorker's John Seabrook expressed:

 

"Here, at this first screening of 'Star Wars,' a group of writers, directors, and executives, all with ambitions to make more or less artistically accomplished Hollywood films, were confronting the template of the future--the film that would in one way, or another determine everyone's career. Not surprisingly, almost every one of them hated it. Polite applause in the screening room, no cheers-a 'real sweaty-palm time,’ Jay Cocks, who was also there, said. It's possible that, just this once, before the tsunami of marketing and megatude closed over 'Star Wars' forever, these people were seeing the movie for what it really was-a film with comic-book characters, an unbelievable story, no political or social commentary, lousy acting, preposterous dialogue, and a ridiculously simplistic morality. In other words, a bad movie.”

 

Seabrook's take so affected George Lucas, he printed the part that called Star Wars “a film with comic-book characters, an unbelievable story, no political or social commentary, lousy acting, preposterous dialogue, and a ridiculously simplistic morality; in other words, a bad movie,” on a tee shirt he later wore when he was back in Tunisia to shoot scenes for The Phantom Menace. 

 

Judith Martin was downright vicious about The Empire Strikes Back in The Washington Post:

 

To call "The Empire Strikes Back" a good junk movie is no insult: There is enough bad junk around. And surely we're getting over the snobbery of pretending that it is undemocratic to recognize any hierarchy of culture, as if both low and high can't be appreciated, often be the same people.

 

But when light entertainment is done well, someone is bound to make extravagant and unsupportable claims for its being great art. You will hear that this sequel to "Star Wars" is part of a vast new mythology, as if it were the Oresteia. Its originator, George Lucas, has revealed that the two pictures are actually parts four and five of a nine-part sage, as if audiences will someday receive the total the way devotees now go to Seattle for a week of immersion in Wagner's complete Ring Cycle.

 

Nonsense. This is no monumental artistic work, but a science-fiction movie done more snappily than most, including its own predecessor. A chocolate bar is a marvelous sweet that does not need to pretend to be a chocolate soufflé; musical comedies are wonderful entertainment without trying to compete with opera; blue jeans are a perfect garment that shouldn't be compared with haute couture. There are times when you would much rather have a really good hot dog than any steak, but you can still recognize that one is junk food and the other isn't.

 

“The Empire Strikes Back" has no plot structure, no character studies let alone character development, no emotional or philosophical point to make. It has no original vision of the future, which is depicted as a pastiche of other junk-culture formulae, such as the western, the costume epic and the Would War II movie. Its specialty is "special effects" or visual tricks, some of which are playful, imaginative and impressive, but others of which have become space movie cliches. 

 

Film critic and historian Elliot Stein had this to say about The Empire Strikes Back:

 

"This thing cost twice as much to make as Star Wars and is twice as boring. It has less energy than its predecessor and is far more pretentious… Irvin Kershner (Eyes of Laura Mars, The Return of a Man Called Horse) was hired to direct because of his rumored skill with actors. To no avail. Mark Hamill (Luke) and Harrison Ford (Han) are sour heroes who emit less personality than the robots. The presence of Alec Guinness lent a modicum of dignity to Star Wars-in Empire he appears as a hologram for about forty seconds. Leia is again portrayed by Carrie Fisher, but as the exotic princess of outer galaxies she exudes all the warmth and mystery of a testy dental hygienist." 

 

The Nation's film critic, Robert Hatch, had this to say about The Empire Strikes Back:

 

"Much of the extraterrestrial scenery is

beautiful and the encounters between the evil Empire and the intrepid, freedom-loving rebels are as thrilling-even if their outcomes are as predictable-as the chariot race in 'Ben Hur.' Its characters, however, are not enacting a fairy tale, as Lucas would have us believe; they are participants in a soap opera. The dialogue is often absurd, the emotional conflicts are childish, the heroics straight from Frank Merriwell. Fairy tales have grace; this saga has corn. But, it will be objected, we do not flock by the millions to the 'Star Wars' films out of fascination with the cardboard personalities of Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Ben Kenobi, the Princess Leia and the rest; we go for the photo magic .. My fear for Lucas is that long before the nine episodes are completed he will find that he has not provided a sufficiently substantial base for all that fabulous hardware. He has been so preoccupied with the construction of mechanical amazements that he has perhaps forgotten there is more in Homer than epic battles, one-eyed giants, the song of the sirens and the whims of the gods. He lacks a wily Ulysses.”

 

The New York Times’ Vincent Canby said:

 

"’The Empire Strikes Back' is not a truly terrible movie. It's a nice movie. It's not, by any means, as nice as 'Star Wars.' It's not as fresh and funny and surprising and witty, but it is nice and inoffensive and, in a way that no one associated with it need be ashamed of, it's also silly. Attending to it is a lot like reading the middle of a comic book. It is amusing in fitful patches but you're likely to find more beauty, suspense discipline, craft and art when watching a New York harbor pilot bring the Queen Elizabeth 2 into her Hudson River berth, which is what 'The Empire Strikes Back' most reminds me of. It's a big, expensive, time-consuming, essentially mechanical operation...I'm not as bothered by the film's lack of resolution as I am about my suspicion that I really don't care. After one has one's fill of the special effects and after one identifies the source of the facetious banter that passes for wit between Han Solo and Leia (it's straight out of B-picture comedies of the 30's), there isn't a great deal for the eye or the mind to focus on. Ford, as cheerfully nondescript as one could wish a comic strip hero to be, and Miss Fisher, as sexlessly pretty as the base of a porcelain lamp, become (is it rude to say?) tiresome. One finally looks around them, even through them, at the decor. If Miss Fisher does much more of this sort of thing. she's going to wind up with the Vera Hruba Ralston Lifetime Achievement Award."

 

This review of The Empire Strikes Back is credited to the staff at People magazine:

 

"Remember Casablanca II? Son of the Wizard of Oz? Gone with the Wind and Back Again? Of course not, because long, long ago in a movie capital far, far away, people dared not tarnish the memory of classics by exhuming them for sequels. This movie, of course, is Star Wars ll, and while it's hardly the worst sequel ever made-Exorcist ll retired that trophy--it's not up to the original either. The spacecraft-laser-battle gimmicks are familiar now, so even though these are the most special of the special effects, they are no longer so fascinating. Worse, the more one sees the main characters, the less appealing they become. Luke Skywalker is a whiner, Han Solo a sarcastic clod, Princess Leia a nag and C-3PO just a drone. Nor will the acting of the performers who play them, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, and Harrison Ford stand much scrutiny. The ending is emotionally unsatisfying, though, and that's no accident [George] Lucas says this is only the first of eight sequels, which ought to be enough to wear out the batteries in Luke's light sword.

 

Cinefantastique didn't mince any words in this 1980 review:

 

"The Empire Strikes Back is a lifeless copy of Star Wars propelled chiefly on the momentum of that earlier film. Without the likes of a Peter Cushing or Alec Guiness to add some dignity and solid support, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford flounder in roles that are certain to doom their careers regardless of the series success. Critics who labeled this film 'better than Star Wars' must have been watching the audience instead of the performance. What's at fault is an atrocious script which marks time for most of its length, then winds up unresolved leaving the audience dangling on a plot contrivance. I fail to see the contribution of a fine screenwriter, not to mention fine science fiction writer, like Leigh Brackett, in any of it. I assume the comedy patter which passes for dialogue was the work of co-credited Lawrence Kasdan."

 

Two fans, Nancy and Tracy Duncan, of Eugene, Oregon, even quit their Star Wars fanzine, Against the Sith, over their hatred for The Empire Strikes Back. Two letters from the editors were published concerning the cancellation. 

 

This is part of the first, found online:

 

TRACY:

Dear readers and all concerned fans.

It's as if someone died.

Back in issue #6 of Against the Sith we wrote in an editorial that if the day came when we decided we were dissatisfied with the Lucas STAR WARS

SAGA we would stop publishing Ats. All too soon, that day has come. There will be no Ats #8. If you ordered, enclosed is your refund.

Nancy and I came out of THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK feeling pounded down, worn out, dragged through the wringer and beaten up. Most of all we were just plain shocked. George Lucas made us care for these characters, identify with Luke, Han and Threepio, and he saw nothing wrong in making a film that pounded on them relentlessly, with no relief, and especially with no reward.

We felt as exhausted as Luke did.

In our AtS #7 FORUM, we said that THE EMPIRE needed an upper ending to work, to make the torture and pain worthwhile. It doesn't have one. 

In my Ats #7 Editorial, I was wrong. Dave Prowse isn't the villain. George Lucas is. He's worse than a vilìain because he was masquerading as the good guy. Darth Vader never hid his true nature.

In fact, Prowse did right to try to warn fans about the true nature of this film.

We refuse to take our ten-year-old sister to see THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK. She's susceptible to scary horror pictures. STAR WARS didn't deserve its PG rating. EMPIRE did. 

A film like STAR WARS only happens once in a generation. I guess it was too much to hope for more. 

Watching EMPIRE was smothering. All the negative imagery thrown at you wears you out. The belly of a worm, an ice cave, the foot of the walker that almost crushed Luke, the pit Luke falls down, down, the snakes, the lizards, the bogs, the swamps, the slime–nothing was positive. Even the cloud city, which otherwise would have been beautiful, was just more background for this horror picture. 

Give us back our sunsets and swings across chasms, our medal ceremonies. Give us back our corny Imperials. Give us back our hope. 

Outside of the STAR WARS universe, this film doesn't even work well as a film. The ending is vapid. The plot is confusing. Too many characters are thrown into this film, as if every second was being milked for all it was worth.

Episodes took place that had no reason to be--why the scene where Luke's hanging

upside down and uses the Force to retrieve his sabre from the snow? We were sure that during the duel, when Vader knocks it from his hand, Luke would pull this trick. Since he didn't, there was no reason to have the scene in the movie. But it did provide them with another chance to cut up our hero. Originally, this scene was followed up with a sympathy scene with Leia. It was axed.

STAR WARS had no plot holes. EMPIRE has numerous ones. Here's just a few: If the Imperials found the rebel base they would flatten it from the air with cruiser laser fire. There would be NO survivors, Why would Vader want Luke to turn to the Dark Side? Vader would then have a rival for his power.

Why was Han tortured, for NO information? It wasn't followed up with a meaningful love scene between Han and Leia. Why did Leia and Luke trust Lando to take the… (This is where the page I found online trails off.)

 

This is all of the second:

 

Dear readers,

It has been decided by the editors to cease publication of AGAINST THE SITH and the other fan publications. ATS #10,  STAR JOURNEYS II, A RAY OF HOPE, and CRUDE MATTER will not be published. Enclosed with this announcement are all refunds (see below). 

Over the past months it has become increasingly

clear to us that we cannot continue publishing

a fanzine for a movie In which we find so little

to recommend. We still stand by everything we

felt in our first letter to fandom in May--but

would word it differently now. Since then, we

thought we could fool ourselves, try hard to accept the film, and put out two more issues (#8 & 9). But we realized we weren't having

much fun. Not only has this film fractured individual fans' emotions, fandom fractured. Judging from feedback on #8 & 9, most people 

are confused and much less enthusiastic about TESB than they were about SW. The questionnaires sent back to us had such diverse answers on all the subjects listed that

it proved to us that no one has any clear idea of what the film Is really all about. At this point, judging from the contradictory statements from the film creators, we're not sure they know what they're doing, either. 

We know a lot of fans have "accepted" TESB, but we wonder how much they really love

it as they loved SW. For us, TESB left out the most important ingredient: love--from which flowed an innocent sense of fun. Without this the film is a peeled zero. It is not for us any great piece of literature, philosophy or religion. The filmmakers took themselves too seriously and fandom is following suit. It happened in Star Trek

and when this happens, we split.

We kept the zine going mainly because of our readers' wishes. Most seemed to care more about ATS and whether or not it was coming out than 

way or another about the sequel. than what its editors thought one way or another about the sequel. We were highly flattered by this, believe us, but we just cannot go on with a project if we find the subject so lacking. To us, TESB is

a dead thing with no life.

We are not the only fans, fan editors, or SW enthusiasts who have jumped ship, either. Several prominent zine editors have let us know their misgivings and at least two others

have washed their hands of the sequel and the 'future' of the SW saga. Life is more than movies! I fear there are some fans who don't realize this. But all of you out there, I hope, will understand our move. 

We thank all our readers for their contributions, enthusiasm, and support of ATS these

past 8- and one-half years. It was fun while it lasted, while it could last. Now we

seek new horizons, better horizons. Thank you one and ail--friends, critics and various

beings. May God (the One True Force) guide you. Go in peace,

P.S. Thanks for all the Christmas cards and cheer! Happy New Year and New Beginnings. **

 

** In 2019, Tracy Duncan commented on her decision to cancel the fanzine in 1980, and where she stands on The Empire Strikes Back today. It has been reposted on Reddit, and I present it here in its entirety: 

 

Hello, Star Wars fans! This is Tracy Duncan (now married with a different last name).  

My niece is a big Star Wars fan, and she found this website and directed me to it. 

I would like to provide a little perspective on what apparently is termed the "Duncan Scandal" in some quarters. 

I was 17 years old at the time I saw Star Wars for the first time (of 17 times in the theater).  I became an obsessed Star Wars fan -- lonely at university, it provided an outlet for me, and I edited the fanzine with my sister Nancy during my years in college. Once I graduated, I started my career, and moved on to other things (marriage, children, life). We didn't quit publishing the magazine for any other reason that I can remember, but perhaps the negative reaction to our "open letter" had an impact on my enthusiasm. I pulled myself out of my depression, finally got to take the upper-level journalism classes I was at school for, got a job out of town, and moved on as an adult. 

It's true the screening of Empire Strikes Back was technically screwed up for Nancy and me - I'll never forget how quiet we both were in the limousine on the ride from the theater. A shame -- we'd won a radio contest for that ride. The driver must have wondered what was up. 

But clearly I was far too hard on the movie. I was heartbroken, and I reacted in anger and frustration that the thing I had pinned my dreams on didn't live up to my expectations. I consequently lashed out with the open letter. I then calmed down and later saw the movie properly for what it was -- a movie. I think the whole incident helped me end my obsession and grow up. (And no, I wasn't concerned about getting sued by George Lucas - can you imagine the lawsuits that would be flying if public figures could sue us for our opinions? Nevertheless, some fan who was a lawyer sent us some kind of warning letter. As a journalism student I knew it was a bogus threat, but to this day I think it was a strange reaction.) I did actually see Empire 17 times or so in its first release.

I was a Star Trek fan before Star Wars and have been and am today a fan of many other science fiction, fantasy and horror properties. I keep up with numerous fandoms and attend cons when I'm in the mood to enjoy my nerdy side. I have  never been again as avid or obsessed a fan of a property since Star Wars, but I feel that's more because of my age and situation I was in then.

It's amazing to me in this day of social media that a single fan would have created something worthy of being memorialized in this wiki. Today, every property has its fans, many of whom hate the sequel, or the continuation, or the ending (Lost, Battlestar Galactica, Game of Thrones I'm a fan of all three, and I like only the first two endings.) And fans do now what I did then -- vent. I vented on paper and used my fanzine mailing list to be heard. 

Now all of us have so many outlets to make our opinions known: Reddit, Facebook, fan websites, blogs, and the many, many Tweets and posts aimed at The Powers That Be. Maybe we have too much power today, but that's another topic altogether! I know I would have loved to have the internet rather than publishing a paper magazine, but it's awesome to see our little labor of love, "Against the Sith," on Amazon for sale for three digits today.

(A completely irrelevant side note: Today's Star Wars movies use the same font for the titles that we used for "Against the Sith" back in the 1970s!)

Thanks for remembering me and our small contribution to fandom. 

 

(Mike here. I felt it was necessary to include all three of Nancy's letters because I believe it gives us an indication of several things, not only an example of the subjectivity of film and how opinions change over the course of time, but also how ironic it is that Nancy's initial reaction to The Empire Strikes Back, and how it affected her, mirrors how other fans reacted not only to the prequels, but also the sequels; particularly The Last Jedi. Maybe the generation gap isn't so wide.)

The Hollywood Reporter wasn't too keen on Return of the Jedi:

 

Even the creatures are somewhat disappointing in this outing. True, Yoda makes a brief but welcome reappearance, and there is a whole tribe of fuzzy, bearlike warriors who are quite charming. C-3P0 and R2-D2, of course, are both back, but now a little too predictable in their reactions to whatever is going on, while Chewbacca seems to be along just for the ride. But most of Lucas’s new creations come straight out of nightmare alley; they are truly frightening grotesques, like the gross, walrus-shaped Jabba the Hutt, who enjoys shrinking people to bite size then popping them into his cavernous maw. Other Huttites have piglike snouts, or long, waving tentacles. Jabba also maintains an enormous pit, lined with curving, sharklike teeth, at the bottom of which, he informs his captives, lurks a creature (mercifully unseen) that slowly and painfully ingests its prey for a thousand years. 

 

The trouble with most of these, from my increasingly jaundiced point of view the other night, was that they kept reminding me of a stage production of Alice in Wonderland that I had seen in my childhood, where grown men donned huge masks and pretended to be Humpty Dumpty, or Tweedledee and Tweedledum. And even though the sheer credit sheet lists half a dozen or so Jabba puppeteers, I still feel that underneath all those horrendous getups there was some little guy who would take off his mask at the end of the day and go home and watch television. There was nothing of the wonder or the magic that happened when we first glimpsed the wise and wizened face of Yoda, or even the dread figure of Darth Vader.

 

… That there aren’t more [emotionally effective moments], despite director Richard Marquand’s avowed intention of creating “real relationships and real action that stem from real emotions,” is essentially the fault of the script, which constantly opts for action and blunts the relationships. Indeed, the fact that Vader is Luke’s real father is not revealed until the film is more than half over — and it still gets shunted aside in the search for the power station on Endor and the ensuing battles. Similarly, when Leia learns that she and Luke are brother and sister, she withholds the information from Han Solo until they have gone through a few more perils together, then, quite arbitrarily, tells all. In this screenplay, what’s happening is always more important than why.

 

Here's Patrick Gibbs’ take on Return of the Jedi for The Daily Telegraph: 

 

While a certain amount of drama is found in these revealing scenes, it is somewhat dis­sipated in the romantic relations between Leia and Solo (which result from Luke disclosing that Leia is his sister). The dialogue given to the lovers is laughable, and their performances match it. So what is presumably intended as a great romantic finale comes to little, which might equally be said of the film as a whole. The appeal, perhaps, will be strongest to the young. The invited audience at the Press show was predominantly juvenile.

 

After his poor review of The Empire Strikes Back, Vincent Canby didn't find much to like about Return of the Jedi, either:

 

"Return of the Jedi," written by Lawrence Kasdan and Lucas and directed by Richard Marquand, doesn't really end the trilogy as much as it brings it to a dead stop. The film, which opens today at Loews Astor Plaza and other theaters, is by far the dimmest adventure of the lot.

 

All of the members of the old "Star Wars" gang are back doing what they've done before, but this time with a certain evident boredom. They include Harrison Ford (Han Solo), Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia), Mark Hamill (Luke Skywalker), the voice of James Earl Jones (the voice of Darth Vader) and Alec Guinness Ben (Obi-Wan) Kenobi, who died a picture or two back but won't get off the screen).

 

“Return of the Jedi" contains a number of scenes that are the space-fantasy equivalent to local color scenes in travelogues. We see Ewoks dancing; Jabba the Hutt, who looks like a rubber Buddha, as he eyes Princess Leia in a harem costume; plus other assorted creatures that are so without visual character that one remembers only isolated features -teeth, saliva, fur, toes.

 

The film's battle scenes might have been impressive but become tiresome because it's never certain who is zapping whom with those laser beams and neutron missiles. The narrative line is virtually nonexistent, and the running time, though only slightly more than two hours, seems longer than that of "Parsifal.”

 

Here's James Harwood of Variety on Return of the Jedi:

 

There is good news, bad news and no news about “Return of the Jedi.” The good news is that George Lucas and Co. have perfected the technical magic to a point where almost anything and everything — no matter how bizarre — is believable. The bad news is the human dramatic dimensions have been sorely sacrificed. The no news is the picture will take in millions regardless of the pluses and minuses.

 

As heralded, “Jedi” is the conclusion of the middle trilogy of George Lucas’ planned nine-parter and suffers a lot in comparison to the initial “Star Wars” [1977], when all was fresh. One of the apparent problems is neither the writers nor the principal performers are putting in the same effort.

 

… Though perfectly fine until now as daringly decent Luke Skywalker, Hamill is not enough of a dramatic actor to carry the plot load here, especially when his partner in so many scenes is really little more than an oversized gas pump, even if splendidly voiced by James Earl Jones.

 

Even worse, Harrison Ford, who was such an essential element of the first two outings, is present more in body than in spirit this time, given little to do but react to special effects. And it can’t be said that either Carrie Fisher or Billy Dee Williams rise to previous efforts.

 

But Lucas and director Richard Marquand have overwhelmed these performer flaws with a truly amazing array of creatures, old and new, plus the familiar space hardware. The first half-hour, in fact, has enough menacing monsters to populate a dozen other horror pics on their own.

 

Though slow to pick up the pace and saddled with an anticlimatic sequence at the finish, “Jedi” is nonetheless reasonably fast paced for its 133-minute length, a visual treat throughout. But lets hope for some new and more involving characters in the next chapters or more effort and work for the old.

 

Retired University of Florida English professor Andrew Gordon, who wrote "Star Wars:

A Myth for Our Time" in 1978, considered the seminal analysis of the mythology in Star Wars, and who prides himself as being “the first critic to point out the influence of Joseph Campbell” on Star Wars, also criticized Return of the Jedi in an article he wrote for FIlm Comment ("Return of the Jedi: The End of a Myth") in 1984:

 

"The first two films (Star Wars and Empire) were so fast and fresh and created such a coherent world that one was willing to find even their potential flaws entertaining: the often stilted dialogue and bad acting, the-Wagnerian heavyhandedness of the staging, and the overreliance on special effects, loud music, and loud noise. These seemed the kitschy, comic-book delights of the films, since they are intrinsic features of the genre Lucas was refining: cinematic space opera. Opera lovers, after all, flock to productions of Wagner for the same sort of flamboyant excess. It is the stately bag and baggage of the form. The bad acting, which was cute in Star Wars, has by now become tiresome. Instead of exuding the confidence and authority of a Jedi Knight, on his first entrance Luke (Mark Hamil) only makes us aware that he is doing a poor imitation of Alec Guinness. The Emperor (lan McDiarmid) hams it up unmercifully. And all the actors appear to have been required by director Richard Marquand to telegraph every line of the predictable, corny dialogue.” 

 

I have no doubt in my mind that there was a heavy contingent of the public who agreed with those I quote above; they simply lacked the platform we have today to get their opinions across. 

 

However, not all Baby Boomer critics were too old to appreciate these nostalgic adventures set a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. In 1983, news anchor Ted Koppel had At the Movies’ Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert on ABC News's Nightline to rebuff New York Magazine theatre and film critic John Simon's Return of the Jedi criticisms:

 

Ted Koppel: Mr. Simon, you described The Empire Strikes Back, the second in this trilogy, as malodorous offal, and I understand you're also well able to keep your enthusiasm in check for the third in the trilogy. Why so unkind?

 

John Simon: Well, I think the raves for the early Star Wars have been so violent and so extravagant, that I feel one cannot afford to mince one's words if one dislikes these things.

 

Ted Koppel: You certainly did not do that, but why do you feel they are so bad?

 

John Simon:  I feel they're so bad because they're completely dehumanizing. I think, obviously, let's face it, they are for children, or for childish adults.  They are not for adult mentalities; they are for children, and they're brutalizing children. They're stultifying children. They're making children dumber than they need to be. A great work for children, like Huck Finn, for example, tells a child something about reality, about people, about life, about growing up. These films try to keep children stupid children forever, and that, I think, is wrong. 

 

Roger Ebert: I spend a lot of my Saturday matinees watching science fiction movies and serials, and having a great time of being stimulated, and having my imagination stimulated, and having all sorts of visions take place in my mind that helped me to become an adult and to still stay young at heart, and I would say not that I'm childlike, but that he (Simon) is old at heart. 

 

Gene Siskel: Yeah, I think Mr Simon ought to do what I did over the weekend. I went to a regular movie theater in a shopping center in Michigan City, Indiana, and I sat amid all the kids. There was one tall head and a lot of small heads! 

 

Roger Ebert: Were they dumber than they needed to be? 

 

Gene Siskel: No, they weren't dumber, to quote that interesting phrase. They were ecstatic; they were enjoying it, and they were rooting… they were asking each other who's who, they were getting all involved, they were rooting for the right guys and booing the bad guys. I thought it was a lot of fun. I feel badly that this other critic, John Simon, didn't have a good time at these pictures, that's too bad for him. 

 

Ted Koppel: But is it a great film? I mean, it's clearly great technology, and it does wonderful things with special effects, but in terms of the normal standards by which we judge movies, is this a great film?  John Simon, clearly you say no, but why?

 

John Simon: Well, first of all, you know, special effects are like the tail of the dog, which should not wag the whole animal.  When you have a film that's ninety percent… man, that's a kindly estimate… ninety percent special effects, you might just as well be watching an animated cartoon, because finally, all that… all those special effects… begin to look totally unreal. That is, you're looking for something that looks like flesh and blood there. You have three lousy actors in the main worlds who don't contribute much flesh and blood; you have ghastly dialogue, terrible plotting, miserable characterization, which also do not contribute flesh and blood, so what you're left with is something that Walt Disney could have done just as well with a drawing board and pencils and colors.

 

Ted Koppel:  All right. Roger Ebert, beyond the undeniable fact that it's clearly perceived as entertainment by a great many people… how would you argue that it's a great movie?

 

Roger Ebert: These are the sorts of movies that Disney people should be making, and the kinds of movies that Disney made twenty, thirty years ago, I think. All movies are special effects. Movies are not real. They're two-dimensional. A film goes through the camera, the projector throws the light on the screen, and that makes a special effect. It’s a dream, it's an imagination. As to whether this film is good or not, it excited me, it made me laugh, it made me thrilled, and that's what a movie like this is for. I think in my own movie-going taste, to be broad enough to also understand why a bunch of people might want to get together and see a Star Wars movie, and enjoy it –

 

Ted Koppel: Gene Siskel, is it not possible to separate these two, and to say yes, there's such a thing as great entertainment but it's not a great movie, let's not pretend it is? 

 

Gene Siskel: Well, you can say what its aspirations are. I don't think that a film should be rewarded for aiming low and hitting that mark, which sometimes in film criticism you do get that sort of junk movie as campy fun. I don't think this is campy fun. I think this is well-made fun. 

 

John Simon: In this thing, you see one set of robots, some of them ostensibly flesh and blood, but actually just as mechanical as the real robots, attacking another set of robots. It zaps you, it races past you, projectiles are hurtling this way and that, there's nothing to get involved with. Sure, there is a very primitive sense in which the Empire is bad, in a very primitive sense in which the others are good, but it is all such a chaos, such a jumble, such a confusion, such a mechanical, technological whirligig, that you don't have any chance to associate yourself with anyone, to identify yourself with anyone. There are no people there with whom you can sympathize. 

 

Gene Siskel: That just isn't my experience in seeing it again with a whole bunch of kids! They were able to sort out who was who very easily.  They had no trouble with this picture, understanding what was going on. I've got to ask Mr. Simon a question. Here's sort of a test question… wasn't your heart warmed even a little bit by Yoda?

 

John Simon: Well yes… I mean, a little… but let's say, if I saw him in a window of FAO Schwartz, and I looked at him for three seconds, and said, “That's a kind of cute little figurine,”  I would have had enough of Yoda.

 

Criticism such as this went right over my head when I was a kid. I think it's normal that criticism for whatever a child might like exists only peripherally, and it's only later, when we grow older, that it occurs to us this criticism existed at all. Or if we do notice it early on, our own opinion comes into doubt, and we grapple with who's right or who's wrong, when it really all comes down to personal taste and personal experience. The original trilogy appealed to me when I was a kid, that's all I knew. But what I learned later was this: No movie… no movie… is universally accepted by everyone. Not one. 

 

And in stark contrast to what John Simon believed, watching Star Wars didn't make me dumb. Star Wars made me a cinephile. Star Wars was my gateway into discovering and falling in love with movies, and a love for the history and the making of movies, which led to a love for  science fiction, fantasy, and horror. The behind the scenes specials, The Making of Star Wars As Told by C-3PO and R2-D2, SPFX: The Empire Strikes Back, and From Star Wars to Jedi: The Making of a Saga; Ralph McQuarrie's The Art of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, The Art of Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, and The Art of Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi concept art books captured my imagination and fueled my burgeoning passion for picking apart how movies are made. I'm sure aspects of Star Wars may have inspired others the same way.

 

When the prequels came out, reactions wound up mirroring much of what the critics I've quoted were saying about the original trilogy, which I find flabbergasting. 

 

When you read comments like these… 

 

George Lucas has got the tone of bad movies down pat: you never catch the actors deliberately

acting badly; they just seem to be bad actors, on contract to Monogram or Republic, their klunky enthusiasm polished at the Ricky Nelson school of acting…

 

… a malfunctioning script and hopelessly infantile dialogue… 

 

… these people were seeing the movie for what it really was-a film with comic-book characters, an unbelievable story, no political or social commentary, lousy acting, preposterous dialogue, and a ridiculously simplistic morality. In other words, a bad movie… 

 

… This thing cost twice as much to make as Star Wars and is twice as boring. It has less energy than its predecessor and is far more pretentious…

 

… [it] has no plot structure, no character studies let alone character development, no emotional or philosophical point to make. It has no original vision of the future, which is depicted as a pastiche of other junk-culture formulae, such as the western, the costume epic and the Would War II movie. Its specialty is "special effects" or visual tricks, some of which are playful, imaginative and impressive, but others of which have become space movie cliches…

 

… Its characters, however, are not enacting a fairy tale, as Lucas would have us believe; they are participants in a soap opera…

 

… My fear for Lucas is that long before the nine episodes are completed he will find that he has not provided a sufficiently substantial base for all that fabulous hardware. He has been so preoccupied with the construction of mechanical amazements that he has perhaps forgotten there is more in Homer than epic battles, one-eyed giants, the song of the sirens and the whims of the gods. He lacks a wily Ulysses…

 

… But, it will be objected, we do not flock by the millions to the 'Star Wars' films out of fascination with the cardboard personalities… we go for the photo magic…

 

… The dialogue is often absurd, the emotional conflicts are childish, the heroics straight from Frank Merriwell. Fairy tales have grace; this saga has corn…

 

… [this] is a lifeless copy of Star Wars propelled chiefly on the momentum of that earlier film…

 

… It's a big, expensive, time-consuming, essentially mechanical operation…

 

… I'm not as bothered by the film's lack of resolution as I am about my suspicion that I really don't care. After one has one's fill of the special effects and after one identifies the source of the facetious banter that passes for wit…

 

… The spacecraft-laser-battle gimmicks are familiar now, so even though these are the most special of the special effects, they are no longer so fascinating…

 

…despite [the] director’s avowed intention of creating “real relationships and real action that stem from real emotions,” [this] is essentially the fault of the script, which constantly opts for action and blunts the relationships. So what is presumably intended as a great romantic finale comes to little, which might equally be said of the film as a whole… 

 

… The dialogue given to the lovers is laughable, and their performances match it…

 

… [They are] given little to do but react to special effects…

 

… The bad acting, which was cute in Star Wars, has by now become tiresome…

 

… The film's battle scenes might have been impressive but become tiresome because it's never certain who is zapping whom with those laser beams and neutron missiles…

 

…The narrative line is virtually nonexistent… 

 

… what you're left with is something that Walt Disney could have done just as well with a drawing board and pencils and colors…

 

… When you have a film that's ninety percent… man, that's a kindly estimate… ninety percent special effects, you might just as well be watching an animated cartoon, because finally, all that… all those special effects… begin to look totally unreal... 

 

… you'd think they were critiques of the prequels.  It's uncanny. Only this time, with the advent of the internet, there was much more of it, and we heard from certain contingents of the fanbase much more. This wasn't the eighties anymore, when you only read selected fan criticism in letters to the editor in science fiction and fantasy magazines, fanzines, and newspapers. 

 

Here are actual reviews of the prequels…

 

Rolling Stone said this of The Phantom Menace:

 

The actors are wallpaper, the jokes are juvenile, there's no romance, and the dialogue lands with the thud of a computer-instruction manual. ... McGregor is saddled with lines like, "I have a bad feeling about this." And Neeson must answer, "Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan." Ouch! Is it a coincidence that Phantom Menace and James Cameron's Titanic, whose box-office record ($1.8 billion worldwide) Lucas is chasing, were made by men with a poet's eyes and tin ears?

 

The New York Daily News said:

 

Neeson gives the film's best performance, in the only full-dimensional human role. McGregor will make a strong Obi-Wan in future episodes, but he has little more than a supporting part here. Portman is mostly wasted as the stiff, overdressed queen, and though kids will love Lloyd, parents may be reminded of Beaver Cleaver when he speaks. 

 

From Chicago Tribune:

 

No matter how much detail went into turning clumsy sidekick Jar Jar Binks into an expressive digital creation, he can't overcome Lucas' conception of him as an incomprehensible "Amos 'n' Andy"-type blubberer (actually, he sounds most like a prepubescent Mushmouth from "Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids") who walks in an exaggerated pimp strut. He's not the only ethnic caricature, either; the Trade Federation officials sound like stock Oriental villains. 

 

To be fair, not every Phantom Menace review was a pan. In his three and a half star review for The Phantom Menace, Roger Ebert said:

 

If it were the first "Star Wars" movie, "The Phantom Menace" would be hailed as a visionary breakthrough. But this is the fourth movie of the famous series, and we think we know the territory; many of the early reviews have been blasé, paying lip service to the visuals and wondering why the characters aren't better developed. How quickly do we grow accustomed to wonders. I am reminded of the Isaac Asimov story "Nightfall," about the planet where the stars were visible only once in a thousand years. So awesome was the sight that it drove men mad. We who can see the stars every night glance up casually at the cosmos and then quickly down again, searching for a Dairy Queen.

 

"Star Wars: Episode I--The Phantom Menace," to cite its full title, is an astonishing achievement in imaginative filmmaking. If some of the characters are less than compelling, perhaps that's inevitable: This is the first story in the chronology and has to set up characters who (we already know) will become more interesting with the passage of time. Here we first see Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Yoda and R2-D2 and C-3PO. Anakin is only a fresh-faced kid in Episode I; in IV, V and VI, he has become Darth Vader.

 

At the risk of offending devotees of the Force, I will say that the stories of the "Star Wars" movies have always been space operas, and that the importance of the movies comes from their energy, their sense of fun, their colorful inventions, and their state-of-the-art special effects. I do not attend with the hope of gaining insights into human behavior. Unlike many movies, these are made to be looked at more than listened to, and George Lucas and his collaborators have filled "The Phantom Menace" with wonderful visuals.

 

There are new places here--new kinds of places. Consider the underwater cities, floating in their transparent membranes. The Senate chamber, a vast sphere with senators arrayed along the inside walls, and speakers floating on pods in the center. And other places: the cityscape with the waterfall that has a dizzying descent through space. And the other cities: one city Venetian, with canals, another looking like a hothouse version of imperial Rome, and a third that seems to have grown out of desert sands.

 

Set against awesome backdrops, the characters in "The Phantom Menace" inhabit a plot that is little more complex than the stories I grew up on in science-fiction magazines. The whole series sometimes feel like a cover from Thrilling Wonder Stories, come to life. The dialogue is pretty flat and straightforward, although seasoned with a little quasi-classical formality, as if the characters had read but not retained "Julius Caesar." I wish the "Star Wars" characters spoke with more elegance and wit (as Gore Vidal's Greeks and Romans do), but dialogue isn't the point, anyway: These movies are about new things to look at.

 

The plot details (of embargoes and blockades) tend to diminish the size of the movie's universe--to shrink it to the scale of a 19th century trade dispute. The stars themselves are little more than pinpoints on a black curtain, and "Star Wars" has not drawn inspiration from the color photographs being captured by the Hubble Telescope. The series is essentially human mythology, set in space, but not occupying it. If Stanley Kubrick gave us man humbled by the universe, Lucas gives us the universe domesticated by man. His aliens are really just humans in odd skins. For "The Phantom Menace," he introduces Jar Jar Binks, a fully realized computer-animated alien character whose physical movements seem based on afterthoughts. And Jabba the Hutt (who presides over the Podrace) has always seemed positively Dickensian to me.

 

Yet within the rules he has established, Lucas tells a good story. 

 

… Sometimes our common sense undermines a sequence (for instance, when Jar Jar's people and the good guys fight a 'droid army, it becomes obvious that the droids are such bad fighters, they should be returned for a refund). But mostly I was happy to drink in the sights on the screen, in the same spirit that I might enjoy "Metropolis," "Forbidden Planet," "2001: A Space Odyssey," "Dark City" or "The Matrix." The difference is that Lucas' visuals are more fanciful and his film's energy level is more cheerful; he doesn't share the prevailing view that the future is a dark and lonely place.

 

What he does have, in abundance, is exhilaration. There is a sense of discovery in scene after scene of "The Phantom Menace," as he tries out new effects and ideas, and seamlessly integrates real characters and digital ones, real landscapes, and imaginary places. We are standing at the threshold of a new age of epic cinema, I think, in which digital techniques mean that budgets will no longer limit the scope of scenes; filmmakers will be able to show us just about anything they can imagine.

 

And Ebert wasn't alone in championing the film. Andrew O'Hagan, of The Telegraph, called The Phantom Menace, “probably one of the most deliriously inventive films to have appeared in years: it displays all of George Lucas's uncommon magic, a wide-eyed genius for adventure narrative that is beyond any ordinary capacity for wonder, and in many respects the latest episode proves itself to be a more finished movie than any of the others. It is daring and beautiful, terrifying and pompous – and that's just the title sequence.” And Janet Maslin of The New York Times added, “Just as Star Wars became one of the most widely imitated pop phenomena of its time, ''The Phantom Menace'' looks like a template for a new generation of computer-generated science fiction. And unlike The Matrix, another film liable to spawn imitations, it is sweetly, unfashionably benign. Whether dreaming up blow-dryer-headed soldiers who move in lifelike formation or a planet made entirely of skyscrapers, Mr. Lucas still champions wondrous visions over bleak ones and sustains his love of escapist fun. There's no better tour guide for a trip to other worlds. Bon voyage.”

 

But the raves were drowned out by a multitude of boos, and it included many of the devoted. It could be argued, one amongst this multitude was more devoted than many. Currently an outspoken sequel trilogy critic, Chris Gore of Film Threat, who has never failed to wear his original trilogy love on his sleeve, put The Phantom Menace on blast:

 

I have to admit that I loved everything about this film except for two things – the writing and directing. Yes, it is an understatement to say that the movie is a disappointment; it is the disappointment of the millennium. Fans may try to convince themselves that they have seen a great film, but the truth is that if this film did not bear the title “Star Wars” it would simply be a bad sci-fi flick, and no one would think twice about trashing it.

 

It’s difficult to approach reviewing “Episode I: The Phantom Menace” as simply a film since the Star Wars saga is so much more than that. It is a cultural phenomenon bordering on religious fanaticism that goes far beyond being a mere movie – it is an unprecedented pop culture experience shared by legions of fans who got hooked in the seventies. I am one of those fans. I first saw Star Wars when I was an elementary school kid in 1977 and I fondly remember it as a life-altering experience. The viewing of that movie propelled my interest in films and filmmaking. I was ready to see it and love it. I have loved everything I have seen so far – the design, the costumes, the casting, the posters, the trailers, the music – everything. My expectations were lowered after hearing initial negative reviews, but the negative reviews we have seen so far do not even begin to touch the surface of what is wrong with this film.

 

So, what exactly is wrong with the Phantom Menace? So many things that it is difficult to discuss them all, but let’s start with the most basic problem, which is the story – an element creator George Lucas prides himself on caring so much about. It is weak. Partly because it’s hard to identify with the main character, that of nine-year-old slave boy, Anakin Skywalker. I wonder what other slave boys around the world see in him that they may see in themselves? None of the characters are ever really developed enough for us to care about them, so it’s hard to get swept up in the convoluted storyline. The plot involves a Trade Federation blockade of the planet Naboo and the Queen of the planet, Amidala, will not sign a treaty, so killer droids land and take over. Trouble is, we just never seem to care. The story never reaches the level of an epic conflict, and it seems better suited for the television screen.

 

So, basically, The Phantom Menace was enough to make a diehard devotee like Chris Gore sound like any original trilogy detractor I have previously mentioned. 

 

Peter Rainer of New York Magazine adds to the pile:

 

George Lucas has been quoted as saying that "actors are still the best way to portray people," but, in watching his Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace, you get the feeling he wishes it wasn't so -- that he could dispense with actors altogether. ... Being human has never seemed more humdrum. And maybe this was Lucas's intention: By making his CGI creatures -- his 'droids and globs and thingamajigs -- so much more captivating than his people, he's striking a blow for the primacy of special effects over human effects. At this point in his career, he may not know, or care about, the difference. 

 

The Los Angeles Times:

 

…unfortunately for a film that has three times more computer-generated shots than any previous effort, its biggest miscalculation is a computer-generated sidekick. That would be Jar Jar Binks. Looking like a large and ungainly sea horse, Jar Jar, who inexplicably speaks in a kind of Caribbean patois, is a major miscue, a comic-relief character who's frankly not funny. The Gungan as a whole prove very difficult to understand, and when you can make out what they're saying ("You're in big do-do this time") you wish you hadn't.

 

Original trilogy and Phantom Menace cheerleader Roger Ebert couldn't find much to like about Attack of the Clones:

 

There is a certain lifelessness in some of the acting, perhaps because the actors were often filmed in front of blue screens so their environments could be added later by computer. Actors speak more slowly than they might--flatly, factually, formally, as if reciting. Sometimes that reflects the ponderous load of the mythology they represent. At other times it simply shows that what they have to say is banal. "Episode II-- Attack of the Clones" is a technological exercise that lacks juice and delight. The title is more appropriate than it should be.  

 

The dialogue was definitely a sticking point. The Hollywood Reporter said this about Attack of the Clones:

 

Surprisingly flat-footed dialogue scenes that feature wooden acting, dreary art direction and old-fashioned optical wipes are either intended as an homage to the sci-fi of the '50s or reflect the director's impatience with exposition. ...Meanwhile, the lovebirds' story veers into camp. These two fall in love not because romance sparks but to suit the needs of subsequent movies. Worse yet, the actors woo to the most stilted lines of the movie: Anakin to Padme, "You are everything soft and smooth." Or later, "I am haunted by the kiss you should not have given to me." And by lines that should never have been written. 

 

Glen Oliver at IGN damned Attack of the Clones with faint praise before trouncing it:

 

Not the Atomic Stink Bomb many feared it would be, Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones has it pretty easy.

 

To soothe the scars of abuse heaped on audiences by the impotent direction and blatant racial stereotyping of Episode I - The Phantom Menace, the only criteria this installment really had to meet was: be better than its predecessor. Not a difficult task, and Attack of the Clones is an improvement over the tragedy witnessed three years ago. Alas, "better than Phantom Menace" still doesn't mean Clones is a particularly good movie.

 

As much as one wants to like AotC, it is the cinematic equivalent of that problem child we've all encountered at some point in our lives: no matter how deserving of love we may intellectually sense them to be, emotionally, it's really tough to like the kid because he or she is such a jackass. Episode II is a rudderless movie filled with non-acting from great actors, uneven pacing, inconsistent visual effects (some are wondrous, but many still look artificial and cartoony – I don't understand why most of the backgrounds in this "galaxy far, far away" look like they're drawn by sub-par students in some community watercolor class), all driven-on by clunky exposition and an unbreakable heart of stone. This movie is a zombie: it is alive, but it has no life.

 

… Attack of the Clones, like Phantom Menace before it, is a cold, cold movie. It skillfully touches on countless emotional pressure points, but never pulls us into its universe, or completely involves us with the personalities populating it. ... AotC seems content to skirt along the perimeters of emotional resonance, but never commits to taking us on a journey of any substance. It is rarely involving, rarely rousing, and never stirring. It is deliberate and mechanical, and little more.

 

The Los Angeles Times followed up on its pan of The Phantom Menace by saying this about Attack of the Clones:

 

We'll never see another "Star Wars," no matter how much we want to. And we want to very much. ...The plot is standard, and the dialogue, even for something intended for young people, is curiously flat. It ranges from the pious ("The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it") to the predictive ("Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me," Obi-Wan Kenobi jokes to Anakin) to the pathetic, as when Anakin grumbles about Padme Amidala, "I've thought about her every day since we parted--and she's forgotten me completely.”

 

Stephanie Zacharek over at Salon wasn't mincing any words about Clones:

 

“Star Wars: Episode II -- Attack of the Clones" could be the worst movie ever made and still it would have the faithful rallying around the Lucas franchise, brandishing their light sabers like bayonets. Against that army of formidable opponents, it seems like a waste of breath to point out the flaws in a movie that isn't really a movie at all: truncated sequences that don't string together into a coherent story, dialogue that may as well have been cobbled together out of pieces of wood instead of words, love scenes shot to look like douche commercials. At this point, George Lucas can put whatever he wants on-screen and get away with it. He has become the ruler of the universe, at least the one between his ears; his wish is our command.

 

Forget for a minute that we're the ones paying the electricity bill. "Attack of the Clones" is barely reviewable as a movie because it's something so far beyond (and yet less than) anything an honest-to-God movie should be. It's an event, a juggernaut, with a preprogrammed audience ready to like it whether it's any good or not.

 

Of course, you could have said the same about "Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace," and you'd be right. But as aggressively piddling and impossible-to-follow as that film was, "Attack of the Clones" is actually worse. Instead of unraveling the back story behind the first "Star Wars" (now, of course, designated as Episode IV) in any recognizable narrative fashion, Lucas has decided to tell it with almost exclusively expository dialogue and a handful of not particularly impressive effects thrown in.

 

… What's more, Lucas has never met a stereotype he didn't like. Jar Jar Binks, his dreads dangling and his patois pattering, makes a few brief appearances. (For what it's worth, the preview audience I saw the movie with hissed when he came on-screen and cheered when he left.) We also get another chance to see the crooked moneylender we first met in "The Phantom Menace," the guy with the insect wings and the big, hooked nose. This time, he has apparently sold Anakin's mother down the river. But we know he's not supposed to look Jewish or anything because, as everybody knows, Jews don't have wings.

 

Anyone who dares criticize Lucas has to be prepared for an onslaught of e-mail from fans. But the irony here is that for all the fan-boy loyalty he inspires, Lucas doesn't make movies with the hopes or desires of an audience -- any audience -- in mind. In his fortress, the lights are on, but nobody's home.

 

… This is a fantasy with no poetry in it.

 

Chris Gore did seem to think Attack of the Clones was an improvement over The Phantom Menace. Here, he damns it with faint praise, if one can consider this praise:

 

Let me put it to you this way, Clones is not a good movie – but it is an incredibly awesome Star Wars movie! This is far from a perfect film, but the problems are almost dismissible based on the final result. 

 

When it came time to pounce on Revenge of the Sith, here was Rolling Stone:

 

Drink the Kool-Aid. Wear blinders. Cover your ears. Because that's the only way you can totally enjoy “Revenge of the Sith” the final and most futile attempt from skilled producer, clumsy director, and tin-eared writer George Lucas to create a prequel trilogy to match the myth-making spirit of the original Wars saga he unleashed twenty-eight years ago.

 

San Francisco Chronicle:

 

The picture is laden with plot and difficult to follow, even for someone who has seen every "Star Wars" installment. The action scenes are overlong and unexciting, and if anyone needs to take a bathroom break, go during a light saber duel. They'll still be fighting when you get back. ... Perhaps as a result of playing to this audience, Lucas occasionally loses focus and presents the story as if it were merely a vehicle through which cultists might bask in a cherished fantasy. When Lucas does that, he's giving way to the dark side.

 

The thing is, Lucas has a real story here, the progress of a young man who turns away from his own noble impulses to become the most evil man in the universe. That story is not just compelling -- at times it feels important - - and when Lucas sticks with it, he's on to something great. Conversely, when he digresses to show Yoda leading a battalion of clones in order to protect the Wookies, he's just being silly. In retrospect, the idea for the second trilogy probably should have been scrapped at the outset in favor of a single three-hour epic about Anakin, which could have been a masterpiece. Yet even within the trilogy structure, "Revenge of the Sith" could have been outstanding, if only the Anakin story weren't diluted by the obligatory "Star Wars" flourishes.

 

There's no excuse. Watching "Revenge of the Sith" it's hard not to wonder if Lucas even knows how good a movie he almost made.

 

New York Daily News:

 

The dialogue is astonishingly feeble, the acting unforgivably wooden. To paraphrase Yoda, the only creature with ­truly human dimensions ever since Harrison Ford's cowboy-mechanic Han Solo departed the galaxy: Bored I am. ... I admit to a thrill of sick delight when the black Darth Vader mask at last descends upon the face of Anakin, sealing his fate and changing his breathing, bringing full circle something that began with far more offhand charm back in 1977. It's a reminder that in the "Star Wars" saga, there are pockets of brilliance, surrounded by the yawning emptiness of space.

 

New York Magazine:

 

Anakin/Vader turns out to be a petulant wuss, a brat who chooses evil because he didn't get the Jedi promotion he wanted. Instead of meaningful anti-heroism, we've got this bitter fellow gulled by the ego strokes and patently false promises of Ian McDiarmid's Senator Palpatine. At the pivotal moment when Anakin/ Vader says, I'll do anything you want, his hubris, his moment of tragic downfall, is undercut by McDiarmid's devilishly arch line-reading, a smugly purred Go-o-o-o-o-o-d! Laughter erupted even from the faithful assembled at the big screening I attended.

 

And Josh Bell, from Las Vegas Weekly, while giving Revenge of the Sith a middling pass, for the most part, still had reservations:

 

There is nothing fun about Sith, except maybe the opening space battle, and it's not so much an adventure as an ordeal. Ian McDiarmid, who's afforded a larger role than Portman, lays it on thick as the villainous Supreme Chancellor-cum-Emperor Palpatine, but his mustache-twirling performance is more tedious than entertaining, and his entreaties to Anakin to join the side of evil are circuitous and repetitive. ... But these are not, and should not be, enough to elevate Sith beyond passable entertainment into what none of the Star Wars films have been: a truly great movie. 

 

But George wouldn't be George if he never responded to his critics. 

 

Following the premiere of The Phantom Menace, George told Empire:

 

You can't play too much to the marketplace. It's the same thing with the fans. The fans' expectations had gotten way high, and they wanted a film that was going to change their lives and be the Second Coming. You know, I can't do that, it's just a movie. And I can't say, now I gotta market it to a whole different audience. I tell the story. I knew if I'd made Anakin 15 instead of nine, then it would have been more marketable. If I'd made the Queen 18 instead of 14, then it would have been more marketable. But that isn't the story. It is important that he be young, that he be at an age where leaving his mother is more of a drama than it would have been at 15. So you just have to do what's right for the movie, not what's right for the market.

 

… The critics pretty much hated the first three movies; they said the dialogue is bad, the acting's wooden, no story, too many special effects, it's a children's film. That same review got moved to Empire Strikes Back, that same review got moved to Return Of The Jediand that is the review that is getting reprinted now. You'd think that after a while, they'd figure out that's what these things are. It's always gonna be like that because I see it as one movie, not six. The irony was that it was written about Star Wars that in C3PO I had created the most irritating character ever created on film. Now one of the reviews for The Phantom Menace says in Jar Jar I have created the most irritating character ever created on film. It's exactly the same sentence. It was like, "Hey, haven't I been here? I already did that once.”

 

… There's a group of fans who don't like comic sidekicks. They wanna see The Terminator, they wanna see a different kind of movie. But this isn't that movie. That same group of fans absolutely hated R2 and C3PO in the first film; in the second film they hated Yoda, he was not a well-liked character – "we can't understand what he's talking about, he's green, he's a muppet." In the third film, they hated the Ewoks, couldn't stand the cute little sidekick characters – "we don't like it. It makes it beyond a children's film." They can't stand it that there is this aspect to these movies, but comic sidekick characters have been in every single movie.

 

… They should go back and see The Matrix or something. These are PG movies. I'm not gonna take those kinds of characters out. Obviously when you get a small group of fans who hate something, it becomes compounded by the internet. The press picks up the internet like it's a source. They don't realise it is just one person typing out their opinion. It's been my experience, and the experience of 20th Century Fox, that most of the people who go to the movie, at least 95 per cent, love Jar Jar. He's extremely popular with kids. He's popular with women. It's funny that the five per cent of the audience - even less probably - who don't like Jar Jar are the ones that get written about. In the toy world, Darth Maul is the biggest seller, but Jar Jar is up there. Part of it is an ageism thing. "I'm cool, I'm hip, I'm embarrassed I'm liking a movie that appeals to young kids." You have to get over the fear of being declared unhip or not tough.

 

… The acting in Star Wars movies is a throwback to an earlier time – the 30s and 40s and more theatrical acting than method and realism. When you get away from that convention, a lot of people don't understand it anymore. They're used to a more affected kind of style. People who aren't academically-oriented, like kids, they don't know any of that and just take it for what it is and think it's great.

 

… I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. On the very first film, I had Bill and Gloria Hyuck (American Graffiti screenwriters) go through and do a dialogue polish on it. And that ultimately came down to maybe a dozen lines, where they added a snappy retort. After a while of working in the medium, I decided that wasn't ultimately essential to making the movies. So in the last few movies we did not try and be clever with the dialogue. I just wanted to get from point A to point B. This film doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing because it's not about snappy one-liners.

 

… I think that Lethal Weapon-style dialogue is overused, it's a necessary aspect of high action films where you have to have the smart retort. You have to say "I'll be back baby" and stuff. It's not my style. It takes away from the integrity of the movie. In the first film, the characters were of that nature, especially Han Solo. I have to tell you when Anakin gets older, he's more in that mode and there will be a lot more of that thing going on. In this one, there's not. It's not a formula. There was no place for that kind of thing in this particular movie. I'm aware that dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem.

 

In 2002, on the topic of Jar Jar, George told Richard Corliss of Time magazine much the same as he did Empire in 1999:

 

"You have to remember that when we did The Empire Strikes Back, some people hated C-3PO. 

When we did Jedi, they just loathed the Ewoks.  There was no Internet to jazz it up, but there was 

the same conversation. Fans are very opinionated, and that's good. But I can't make a movie for fans." 

 

The acting style and the performances were a sticking point for the prequels that would never go away. 

 

In an interview with The Guardian's Emma Brockes, George made a comment that could have just as well been pointed at the Hollywood Reporter critic who accused Attack of the Clones of being camp:

 

It's not deliberately camp. I made the film in a 1930s style. It's based on a Saturday matinee serial from the 1930s, so the acting style is very 30s, very theatrical, very old-fashioned. Method acting came in in the 1950s and is very predominant today. I prefer to use the old style. People take it different ways, depending on their sophistication.

 

I've always been a follower of silent movies. I see film as a visual medium with a musical accompaniment, and dialogue is a raft that goes on with it. I create films that way - very visually - and the dialogue's not what's important. I'm one of those people who says, yes, cinema died when they invented sound. The talking-head era of movies is interesting and good, but I'd just like to go to the purer form.

 

The problem is, the theatre aspect of it has sort of taken over, and the institutions that comment on film are very literary. They aren't cinematic; you don't have a lot of cinematic people talking about cinema, because visual people don't use words, they use pictures.

 

Cinema has only been around [for] 100 years or so - not long enough for people to really understand it.

 

George continued to bang this drum, telling Entertainment Weekly in 2002 and 2005:

 

"We're working in a particular kind of style-a sort of theatrical style very prevalent in movies in the 1930s. I don't use, you know, 'reality acting.' That's not what these movies are." 

 

“[Star Wars is a blend of] 1940s-style storytelling and acting which verges on the operatic-and something that's contemporary and has weight to it. … I don't mind [the style]. If anyone wants to go back into film history they can go, 'Oh, I see'. …But that's the style, and unfortunately, I've been trapped in it for 30 years."

 

"Anakin was a teenager. A pain in the ass teenager. And I hate to say it, but that's what a lot of teenagers are!”

 

This wasn't some defensive posture George was taking to combat bad reviews. George was being honest. He knew the style he was working in when he was making the movies and knew it wouldn't work for some. In the book, "Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones", it says: 

 

One of the most intensely romantic scenes at the retreat finds Anakin and Padme sitting together in an intimate alcove, in front of a fire. There, in the firelight, they talk about their growing feelings for each other and the seeming impossibility of their sharing a life together. The scene typified the script's old-fashioned style. "Let's face it," Lucas admitted, “their dialogue in that scene is pretty corny. It is presented very honestly, it isn't tongue-in-cheek at all, and it's really played to the hilt. But it is consistent not only with the rest of this movie but with the overall Star Wars style. Most people don't understand the style of Star Wars. They don't get that there's an underlying motif very much like a nineteen thirties western or Saturday matinee serial. It's in that more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others.”

 

And in the book, The Making of Star Wars: Episode lIl- Revenge of the Sith by J.W. Rinzler, George says:

 

"In my films, the dialogue is not where the movie is. My films are basically in the graphics. The emotional impact comes from the music-and from juxtaposing one image with the next.”

 

It's something he's maintained to this day. He reiterated this point to Paul Duncan for the book Star Wars Archives: Episodes I-III 1999-2005:

 

“It is presented very honestly, it isn’t tongue-in-cheek at all, and it’s played to the hilt…,” he said. “But it is consistent, not only with the rest of the movie, but with the overall ‘Star Wars’ style… Most people don’t understand the style of ‘Star Wars.’ They don’t get that there’s an underlying motif that is very much like a 1930s Western or Saturday matinee serial… It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others.”

 

“It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others,” Lucas continued. “There’s a bit more soap opera in this one than there has been in the past, so setting the scenes up and staging them was more complex than it usually is.”

 

But all of this fell on deaf ears. 

 

Star Wars and its creator were even taken to court… sort of. Published in 2006, a year after Episode III Revenge of the Sith was released (and later reissued in 2015), the book Star Wars On Trial: Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Debate the Most Popular Science Fiction Films Of All Time, an anthology of essays brought together eighteen writers to examine eight different charges against the franchise. These charges were:

 

Charge #1: The Politics of Star Wars Are Anti-Democratic and Elitist.

Charge #2: While Claiming Mythic Significance, Star Wars Portrays No Admirable Religious or Ethical Beliefs.

Charge #3: Star Wars Novels Are Poor Substitutes for Real Science Fiction and Are Driving Real SF off the Shelves.

Charge #4: Science Fiction Filmmaking Has Been Reduced by Star Wars to Poorly Written Special Effects Extravaganzas.

Charge #5: Star Wars Has Dumbed Down the Perception of Science Fiction in the Popular Imagination.

Charge #6: Star Wars Pretends to Be Science Fiction but Is Really Fantasy.

Charge #7: Women in Star Wars Are Portrayed as Fundamentally Weak.

Charge #8: The Plot Holes and Logical Gaps in Star Wars Make It Ill-Suited for an Intelligent Viewer.

 

After everything the sequel trilogy is accused of in a newly “woke” culture, these charges are mind-boggling. 

 

As I write this, Chris Gore has finished a multi-episode arc on his Film Threat YouTube podcast, where he put the sequel trilogy on trial, with guest witnesses, Gore himself as the judge, and assigned prosecutors and defending attorneys to make arguments. In other words, a show trial. 

 

On another episode of his YouTube podcast, Gore, a vehement critic, and detractor of the sequel trilogy, posed the question, “What if the sequel trilogy were good?” If you Google “What if the prequels were good?” you'd find a lot of people posed that same question about the prequels over the years. 

 

Maybe the generation gap isn't so wide after all. 

 

There's a mantra repeated frequently in the revival of Battlestar Galactica (2003-2009): This has all happened before, and it will all happen again. It's a J.M. Barrie Peter Pan reference, but it is significant that BSG references it, and it's certainly significant when applied to the criticism levied at all three trilogies (however banal or extreme). It will be even more significant in topics I will discuss a little later. 

 

After this treatment, is it any wonder why George finally sold Lucasfilm to Disney? It's enough to swear anyone off filmmaking. And yet, he almost kept it up. In January 2012, George uttered the first hints he was looking to retire. He told The New York Times, “Why would I make any more, when everybody yells at you all the time and says what a terrible person you are?” Later the same year, it was announced he was working on Star Wars sequels, and then soon after, that Disney was acquiring Lucasfilm, George was stepping away, and the Mouse House, in league with Lucasfilm, now with producer (and frequent Steven Spielberg collaborator) Kathleen Kennedy as CEO (who Lucas handpicked for the job), would shepherd all forthcoming films, starting with the new sequels. 

 

Three years after George sold Lucasfilm, he told Vanity Fair:

 

“You go to make a movie and all you do is get criticised, and people try to make decisions about what you’re going to do before you do it. And it’s not much fun. You can’t experiment. You have to do it a certain way. I don’t like that, I never did. I started out in experimental films, and I want to go back to experimental films.”

After the kind of criticism Star Wars has gotten from the beginning, as minute (by comparison) as it was for the original trilogy, and heated as it was for the prequels, the sequels (and nearly everything that has followed, to some degree)  were always destined for backlash. There was no escaping it. This has all happened before, and it will all happen again.