On March 28th of this year I presented an essay at the Carleton University Film Studies Undergraduate Colloquium. Allow me to briefly summarize this essay before I continue:
As technology develops, video games have become more and more cinematic (film-like) to the point where games are almost films that one controls. Arguably, there is little visual difference between a film and modern video game. However as far as sound design goes, I argued that video games have surpassed film.
Using mostly examples from the Nintendo Wii, I demonstrated how the interactivity of the video game medium has allowed greater freedom in sound design experimentation than film. Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess has put the player in control of how the game score plays out depending on how the player performs (slow walking=subtle music, horse riding=epic music, monster fighting=dramatic music; all within the same scoring sequence) and Super Mario Galaxy has demonstrated how music, sound effect and player action can interact to create unique sonic experiences.
I also demonstrated how video games such as Medal of Honor can present realistic, interactive sonic environments. In games such as these, sound is put into the perspective of the character/player immersing the player in a life-like environment. This is reminiscent of André Bazin’s theory of Total Cinema. In this theory, Bazin argues that conventional cinema is only one step in a historical progression in which mankind attempts to build a life-like, all-encompassing recreation of reality (think The Matrix). Video games such as Medal of Honor represent the next step in this progression towards artificial reality.
Lastly, I mentioned how games such as Guitar Hero and Rock Band put the player in control of the video game’s soundtrack. The delivery of the soundtrack depends of the success of the player in playing the video game. I also briefly showcased the Nintendo DS game Elektroplankton. This game was designed with few goals beyond those of free-play of sound experimentation and manipulation.
During the question period proceeding the presentation I was made aware of several interesting arguments against some of my claims. Most arguments were directed towards my use of the word “interactivity” and addressed the actual extent to which interactivity can actually apply to video games. I was told to read Jesper Juul’s Half-Real: Video Games Between Real Rules and Fictional Worlds which discussing many founding theoretical ideas surrounding the emerging field of video game theory as well as game theory in general. I have since read this book and would like to defend and redefine my claim.
As the title of Juul’s book implies, video games can be seen as a system of real rules (in that they actually apply) as well as fictional worlds (the fictional elements that disguise the rules). The real rules come to define the fiction of the game, and the fiction defines the rules. This was brought to my attention during the question period. How can one truly interact with a progressive game such Super Mario Galaxy when the choices and options that the game presents are already pre-designed. When one plays Super Mario Galaxy they are playing within the confines of the rules. As far as sound design goes, the sounds within the game are pre-recorded and pre-set and are emitted when triggered within the game realm. Thus games are not truly interactive, nor can they offer realistic decisions (as action options are severely limited).
I would like to think otherwise. We live within a system of rules. That is the rules of physics define what we can and cannot do. To expand on this, the rules of physics also define the sonic environments that we live in. With this in mind it can be considered that the limited interactivity of video games merely represents simplified real-life physical rules.
The complexities of causal sound in reality could be applied to video games. Digital technology already allows us to convert real sound into digital representation. If real sound can be represented by digits then it is possible to create realistic sound from scratch in a digital realm. If every possible nuanced sound can be represented by digital code, then hypothetically it is possible to create a mathematical system in which different sound can be produced depending on digital variables. That is to say sound in video games can be unique depending on the in-game conditions they are triggered by. No samples would be used, only in-game conditions such as surface textures, environment acoustics, impact velocity and air density. These would all be conditions that would affect the artificial reproduction of the game sounds. This would be pure interactivity.
This could no doubt apply to video game visuals. Digital technology allows accurate visual representation in visual form. Who is to say with stronger graphics capacity a realistic interactive visual environment is not possible. This would no doubt bring us closer to the Total Cinema that Bazin forecasts. This idea of immersion in a video game is discussed in Janet Murray’s Hamlet on the Holodeck and is commonly referred to as virtual reality.
Juul addresses some pitfalls to this model of video game. He uses the example of entering a car in Grand Theft Auto III. In real life there are an infinite number of ways to enter a vehicle, however in GTAIII there is only one way: Press the triangle button on the game controller. If the game required a button combination for each task required to open a car door and enter the vehicle the game would be tedious and boring. Instead the fiction of the game is simplified and stylized for player enjoyment.
So while a Total Cinema approach to video games would be revolutionary, it is possible that it would ruin the game play of the game. So perhaps Total Cinema does not lie in the video game genre, but through the video game platform. Video games themselves should always remain as games, however the technology of video games may hold the key to a lifelike and interactive Total Cinema.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
"Narrative vs. Spectacle 2: Son of Narrative vs. Spectacle" By Adam Slight
In regards to my previous article “Narrative vs. Spectacle: Mortal Combat” and Philip Decloux’s commentary “Narrative vs. Spectacle: Ph.D Chim-Chimes in Support of Speed Racer”, I wish to rephrase my stance as it may have been misinterpreted. Having never seen Speed Racer (which I still intend to see as soon as I can), I cannot claim to have a decent impression of its story or convention-bending visuals, nor was it my purpose make such claims. Neither was it my strict purpose to defend Pirates of the Caribbean 3 or any effect-heavy summer blockbusters for that matter. These were merely analogies to express my rhetorical opinion: Why does story/narrative in cinema matter so much? Why does story matter at all?
While subjective taste towards one movie or another could be argued endlessly, I would like to address Decloux’s assertion that cinema stands for “taking you out of your normal, everyday life and infusing it with concentrated suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy”. Decloux’s claim stands as an ideal starting block for the expansion of my original point. Decloux’s opinion is that quality cinema consists of a healthy balance of narrative structure and visual spectacle. While I agree that such a balance can result in strong cinema, I would disagree that strong cinema depends upon this formula.
When I suggest that one ignores a film’s narrative in favour of its aesthetic elements, let me not be misread. I am not suggesting one to mindlessly allow the film’s visuals to filter through their brains unchecked. What makes watching cinema different from reading books? A film’s technical and visual elements can be, and are often more-so, thoughtful than the actual narrative. Should we forget the “suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy” in a film’s formal elements in favour of narrative structure? A single shot has the potential to have more meaning than an entire 90 minutes worth of narrative.
And must we condemn a sequence just because it comes with a hefty price tag? Money does not create ideas. I think Evil Dead would look a lot like Spiderman if it had a $150 000 000 budget. A multi-million dollar blockbuster requires immense talent to form a polished finished product. The problem is that these talented people and products do not always mix well with each other. It can be rest assured that a multi-million dollar blockbuster such as Pirates 3 will have a talented editor, cinematographer etc. in order to gain trust from financial backers.
I use films such as Pirates 3 and Speed Racer as examples for the obvious gap between visual and narrative. However, this has seemed to restrict our dialogue to the realm the blockbuster. Afterall, “spectacle” does not have to pertain to high budget effect shots. It can merely be associated with the very “attraction” that a viewer has to the visual presentation of the film. This “attraction” has been written of by soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein as well as the previously referenced Tom Gunning. Similar to that of a carnival exhibition, this “attraction” is the fabric of the visual cinematic spectacle.
Frankly, I think that claiming cinema as an escapist medium belittles the power of motion picture. By lingering around mainstream summer blockbusters we have failed to address other aesthetic functions of cinema. As stated in my previous article, the early soviets used cinema’s purely visual characteristics as a means of indentifying the uneducated masses to the soviet cause. Direct Cinema and Cinema Verité provide cinematic means to their subjects to project their agency upon the viewer. The narratives of these films seem to take a backseat to visual language and/or revelation.
Aside from various forms of documentary, animation (traditional or computer generated), avant-garde and experimental film use film spectacle as a primary means of expression, whether narrative is present or not. And often the narrative does not bear the true crux of a film’s “message” but rather the true message lies within the films’ presentation.
One may argue however that without some (even minor) system of narrative to hold it together, a film would be nothing less than a chaos of visuals. I can draw upon two examples of films that use non-narrative forms of structural organization. For the most part Disney’s Fantasia replaces narrative, instead using music to organize the spectacle of the film. Similarly, Berlin: A Symphony of a Great City uses time of day to structure a visual cinematic meditation of Berlin.
Before I spiral deeper and deeper into what is becoming dangerously close to a rant, I think it is important to address that everyone has different expectations from a movie-going experience. This reflects in the many voices of mainstream critics. Benjamin Wright responded to my “Narrative vs. Spectacle: Mortal Combat” with a noteworthy paradox:“Syndicated film critics are, by and large, trained not in film but in English literature… They can only stand in awe of the visual kinetics or reject them entirely because aesthetic criticism has never been a foundational aspect in mainstream film criticism… The flip side to this coin of criticism is the academic critic. Your only shot at informed aesthetic commentary comes from "intellectual" critics, either film students or academic writers…The problem with many in this category is their rejection of commercial filmmaking in general. So even if you're looking for a thoughtful essay on Speed Racer, you won't find one from them, since they've already dismissed it as crass commercial product or insipid, uninspired Hollywood drivel.”
So in summary, mainstream cinema (such as Speed Racer) is narrowly limited to narrative-based criticism, and most who are trained to lend formally-based criticism to mainstream blockbusters are unwilling to do so. It is not to say that scholarly formal analysis of film is more important than mainstream textual criticism. The only issue here is that the narrative, textual side is given a lot more accessibility and therefore comes to be favoured by the public.
Ultimately, I think this public focus on narrative distracts audiences from other enriched aspects of the medium. While I can not disagree that balanced attention towards narrative and technical is very positive, I think that such a balance is also close to non-existent in the mainstream sphere.
When all is said and done, it is difficult to deny the connection that spectacle and narrative share. Spectacle predominantly requires some sort of context and cause to exist (often provided by narrative). Then to conclude, perhaps I would like to state it is not my purpose to deny the validity of narrative but to open a movie-viewing perspective in which narrative lacks importance. If the film still stinks after distancing story from the spectacle, I assume no responsibility.
While subjective taste towards one movie or another could be argued endlessly, I would like to address Decloux’s assertion that cinema stands for “taking you out of your normal, everyday life and infusing it with concentrated suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy”. Decloux’s claim stands as an ideal starting block for the expansion of my original point. Decloux’s opinion is that quality cinema consists of a healthy balance of narrative structure and visual spectacle. While I agree that such a balance can result in strong cinema, I would disagree that strong cinema depends upon this formula.
When I suggest that one ignores a film’s narrative in favour of its aesthetic elements, let me not be misread. I am not suggesting one to mindlessly allow the film’s visuals to filter through their brains unchecked. What makes watching cinema different from reading books? A film’s technical and visual elements can be, and are often more-so, thoughtful than the actual narrative. Should we forget the “suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy” in a film’s formal elements in favour of narrative structure? A single shot has the potential to have more meaning than an entire 90 minutes worth of narrative.
And must we condemn a sequence just because it comes with a hefty price tag? Money does not create ideas. I think Evil Dead would look a lot like Spiderman if it had a $150 000 000 budget. A multi-million dollar blockbuster requires immense talent to form a polished finished product. The problem is that these talented people and products do not always mix well with each other. It can be rest assured that a multi-million dollar blockbuster such as Pirates 3 will have a talented editor, cinematographer etc. in order to gain trust from financial backers.
I use films such as Pirates 3 and Speed Racer as examples for the obvious gap between visual and narrative. However, this has seemed to restrict our dialogue to the realm the blockbuster. Afterall, “spectacle” does not have to pertain to high budget effect shots. It can merely be associated with the very “attraction” that a viewer has to the visual presentation of the film. This “attraction” has been written of by soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein as well as the previously referenced Tom Gunning. Similar to that of a carnival exhibition, this “attraction” is the fabric of the visual cinematic spectacle.
Frankly, I think that claiming cinema as an escapist medium belittles the power of motion picture. By lingering around mainstream summer blockbusters we have failed to address other aesthetic functions of cinema. As stated in my previous article, the early soviets used cinema’s purely visual characteristics as a means of indentifying the uneducated masses to the soviet cause. Direct Cinema and Cinema Verité provide cinematic means to their subjects to project their agency upon the viewer. The narratives of these films seem to take a backseat to visual language and/or revelation.
Aside from various forms of documentary, animation (traditional or computer generated), avant-garde and experimental film use film spectacle as a primary means of expression, whether narrative is present or not. And often the narrative does not bear the true crux of a film’s “message” but rather the true message lies within the films’ presentation.
One may argue however that without some (even minor) system of narrative to hold it together, a film would be nothing less than a chaos of visuals. I can draw upon two examples of films that use non-narrative forms of structural organization. For the most part Disney’s Fantasia replaces narrative, instead using music to organize the spectacle of the film. Similarly, Berlin: A Symphony of a Great City uses time of day to structure a visual cinematic meditation of Berlin.
Before I spiral deeper and deeper into what is becoming dangerously close to a rant, I think it is important to address that everyone has different expectations from a movie-going experience. This reflects in the many voices of mainstream critics. Benjamin Wright responded to my “Narrative vs. Spectacle: Mortal Combat” with a noteworthy paradox:“Syndicated film critics are, by and large, trained not in film but in English literature… They can only stand in awe of the visual kinetics or reject them entirely because aesthetic criticism has never been a foundational aspect in mainstream film criticism… The flip side to this coin of criticism is the academic critic. Your only shot at informed aesthetic commentary comes from "intellectual" critics, either film students or academic writers…The problem with many in this category is their rejection of commercial filmmaking in general. So even if you're looking for a thoughtful essay on Speed Racer, you won't find one from them, since they've already dismissed it as crass commercial product or insipid, uninspired Hollywood drivel.”
So in summary, mainstream cinema (such as Speed Racer) is narrowly limited to narrative-based criticism, and most who are trained to lend formally-based criticism to mainstream blockbusters are unwilling to do so. It is not to say that scholarly formal analysis of film is more important than mainstream textual criticism. The only issue here is that the narrative, textual side is given a lot more accessibility and therefore comes to be favoured by the public.
Ultimately, I think this public focus on narrative distracts audiences from other enriched aspects of the medium. While I can not disagree that balanced attention towards narrative and technical is very positive, I think that such a balance is also close to non-existent in the mainstream sphere.
When all is said and done, it is difficult to deny the connection that spectacle and narrative share. Spectacle predominantly requires some sort of context and cause to exist (often provided by narrative). Then to conclude, perhaps I would like to state it is not my purpose to deny the validity of narrative but to open a movie-viewing perspective in which narrative lacks importance. If the film still stinks after distancing story from the spectacle, I assume no responsibility.
"Narrative VS. Spectacle: Ph. D chim-chimes in support of Speed Racer" by Philip Decloux
Ph. D (Philip Decloux) wrote this article in the Toronto Film Junkies film blog in response to Adam Slight's "Narrative vs. Spectacle: Mortal Combat":
The critics this summer have been an enigma to me. Before going to see Iron Man, I noticed that it had an unbelievable 93% rating on Rottentomatoes dot com. This, I confidently assured myself, should be the best superhero movie ever made! Look at all of that critical acclaim! I was deluding myself. While every facet of the film was polished to a mirror shine, as I walked out of the theater, I found myself... ambivalent. I started unconsciously nit-picking certainly elements of the film... the shitty, phoned in soundtrack, Terrence Howard's weak voice (and I loved him in "Hustle and Flow"!), Gwyneth Paltrow's uneven performance. Things that, while somewhat detracting from the film shouldn't affect the overall sense of satisfaction I felt from watching it. But the damage was done. Perhaps it was the overwhelmingly positive critical reception... the hyping and promoting on various websites I frequent. Somehow it couldn't possibly meet the bar that had been set.
Now that I've got my original ambivalent reaction out of the way, lets look at one thing that Iron Man got right: for one, it has a very finely tuned balance between it's superhero origin narrative, and a solid sense of spectacle. It doesn't only have one or the other, it has a very crowd-pleasing, critic appeasing blend of these two elements, and that's what has made it a success. Robert Downey Jr. is Tony Stark, and ILM did a real awesome job on the special effects. So really, unless you're a basement dwelling, scum-sucking aintitcoolnews talkbacker, you should be able to realize the success of Iron Man, as it pertains to this balancing act of Narrative and Spectacle.
It's what cinema is all about, it's about taking you out of your normal, everyday life and infusing it with concentrated suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy. The best films please you on the visual, purely aesthetic platform of film while engaging your mind with wit, subtext, and other things that intellectuals like to blabber about. This is why Terry Gilliam's "Brazil" is by far my favorite film that I have seen to this date. Real, vibrant cinema is about the ideal marriage of visual entertainment and storytelling. They live off each other, and if one outstrips the other, the whole suffers.
Adam has proposed that critics have panned "Speed Racer" in the same way they derided "Pirates of the Carribean 3: the World's End". He proposed that critics panned POTC3 because the film was a meandering mess, unredeemed by it's well-tuned audio-visual experience. They panned it because the movie did not live up to the promise of the first film, and the fact that it did not improve upon the second film, which was a somewhat bloated, confused CGI-fest. POTC3 didn't have a point. If we're talking about Narrative vs. Spectacle, it's a failure. No matter how impressive your 2 million dollar shot of a pirate ship exploding is, it isn't worth squat if the audience doesn't care about any of the characters or the plot. In the end, it's ridiculous to think that ILM special effects and a Hanz Zimmer score (he's as practiced as James Horner at cannibalizing his past efforts) are redeeming values. These qualities alone make a good popcorn film, but not what I would deem good cinema.
Adam is correct in asserting is that critics have unfairly panned "Speed Racer". I've seen this one twice now, both times in IMAX. Critics hated it because they couldn't get past the ground-breaking visual effects and childish sense of play that make this seem like a real-life anime-cartoon. If Adam gets to see this film (and I dearly wish him and every reader of this blog to see it before it leaves IMAX screens), he'd realise that not only have critics been unfair, but that he is (happily) mistaken in thinking (through the views of misled critics) that Speed Racer is a purely visual spectacle, or lacking "a good story". The Wachowskis have achieved quite a feat, because they made a real family film. There is heart here. There are morals to teach to the youngsters who are going to love the racing segments. I don't know why, but the critics have mistakenly ignored on the great, avant-guarde examples of Narrative-Visual cinematic art ever achieved.
We, as the film-going public, have mis-treated this film. I enjoyed it much more than Iron Man, and tons more than POTC3. If you have any sort of inner child which is not covered with the sickly burlap of cynicism, go and see this film now and realize how wrong the critics have been, and how utterly crazy the Wachowskis were to attempt to make this film.
The critics this summer have been an enigma to me. Before going to see Iron Man, I noticed that it had an unbelievable 93% rating on Rottentomatoes dot com. This, I confidently assured myself, should be the best superhero movie ever made! Look at all of that critical acclaim! I was deluding myself. While every facet of the film was polished to a mirror shine, as I walked out of the theater, I found myself... ambivalent. I started unconsciously nit-picking certainly elements of the film... the shitty, phoned in soundtrack, Terrence Howard's weak voice (and I loved him in "Hustle and Flow"!), Gwyneth Paltrow's uneven performance. Things that, while somewhat detracting from the film shouldn't affect the overall sense of satisfaction I felt from watching it. But the damage was done. Perhaps it was the overwhelmingly positive critical reception... the hyping and promoting on various websites I frequent. Somehow it couldn't possibly meet the bar that had been set.
Now that I've got my original ambivalent reaction out of the way, lets look at one thing that Iron Man got right: for one, it has a very finely tuned balance between it's superhero origin narrative, and a solid sense of spectacle. It doesn't only have one or the other, it has a very crowd-pleasing, critic appeasing blend of these two elements, and that's what has made it a success. Robert Downey Jr. is Tony Stark, and ILM did a real awesome job on the special effects. So really, unless you're a basement dwelling, scum-sucking aintitcoolnews talkbacker, you should be able to realize the success of Iron Man, as it pertains to this balancing act of Narrative and Spectacle.
It's what cinema is all about, it's about taking you out of your normal, everyday life and infusing it with concentrated suspense, romance, action, adventure, or comedy. The best films please you on the visual, purely aesthetic platform of film while engaging your mind with wit, subtext, and other things that intellectuals like to blabber about. This is why Terry Gilliam's "Brazil" is by far my favorite film that I have seen to this date. Real, vibrant cinema is about the ideal marriage of visual entertainment and storytelling. They live off each other, and if one outstrips the other, the whole suffers.
Adam has proposed that critics have panned "Speed Racer" in the same way they derided "Pirates of the Carribean 3: the World's End". He proposed that critics panned POTC3 because the film was a meandering mess, unredeemed by it's well-tuned audio-visual experience. They panned it because the movie did not live up to the promise of the first film, and the fact that it did not improve upon the second film, which was a somewhat bloated, confused CGI-fest. POTC3 didn't have a point. If we're talking about Narrative vs. Spectacle, it's a failure. No matter how impressive your 2 million dollar shot of a pirate ship exploding is, it isn't worth squat if the audience doesn't care about any of the characters or the plot. In the end, it's ridiculous to think that ILM special effects and a Hanz Zimmer score (he's as practiced as James Horner at cannibalizing his past efforts) are redeeming values. These qualities alone make a good popcorn film, but not what I would deem good cinema.
Adam is correct in asserting is that critics have unfairly panned "Speed Racer". I've seen this one twice now, both times in IMAX. Critics hated it because they couldn't get past the ground-breaking visual effects and childish sense of play that make this seem like a real-life anime-cartoon. If Adam gets to see this film (and I dearly wish him and every reader of this blog to see it before it leaves IMAX screens), he'd realise that not only have critics been unfair, but that he is (happily) mistaken in thinking (through the views of misled critics) that Speed Racer is a purely visual spectacle, or lacking "a good story". The Wachowskis have achieved quite a feat, because they made a real family film. There is heart here. There are morals to teach to the youngsters who are going to love the racing segments. I don't know why, but the critics have mistakenly ignored on the great, avant-guarde examples of Narrative-Visual cinematic art ever achieved.
We, as the film-going public, have mis-treated this film. I enjoyed it much more than Iron Man, and tons more than POTC3. If you have any sort of inner child which is not covered with the sickly burlap of cynicism, go and see this film now and realize how wrong the critics have been, and how utterly crazy the Wachowskis were to attempt to make this film.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
"Narrative vs. Spectacle: Mortal Combat" By Adam Slight
Although I have yet to see Speed Racer I have noticed a common trend in its reviews. The line is divisive. On one side critics marvel at the film’s style and breaking of visual conventions. On the other side more critics simply long for a “good story”. Sometimes this can be an issue with me. Since when do movies need an in-depth story when it’s strong in its other departments?
We could blame history. Theorist Tom Gunning wrote that since 1906 cinema has increasingly been more focused on story over visual spectacle. It was in 1906 that the number of narrative-oriented films surpassed that of visually-focused film. These visual films had been able to stand on their own merely through display of images moving independently on a screen. At the time this spectacle was enough to keep audiences paying. And I bet most critics love that old stuff. So why not Speed Racer? Why is it that audience would pay for a purely visual spectacle then, but not now?
For that matter let’s use examples that I’m more familiar with. Last summer Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World’s End hit the screens. While praised for its visuals the film widely flopped with critics due to a series of tedious and confusing plot twists. This makes me wonder when it was that pirate movies picked up the expectation to rival Shakespeare’s Macbeth? Instead of dwelling on where the film lacks, why not emphasize the film’s strengths. This scene in particular struck me as one of the most inventive and unique sequences I had ever seen in a summer blockbuster. It may not have made sense necessarily but it was executed very well. In fact the movie’s cinematography grabbed my attention for most of the film. Aside from the cinematography, the music was also noteworthy. In fact, there are plenty of elements that make up a film and yet story is most widely favoured by audiences.
But I suppose one could argue that as a summer blockbuster Pirates of the Caribbean 3 should have a balance between story and visual as to not isolate audience. This privileging of narrative has plagued technical cinema for decades. Soviet filmmaker Dziga Vertov (1896-1954) dealt with similar criticisms. Vertov felt that by seeing the world through the eye of a camera lens, the masses could achieve a higher understanding of the world they live in resulting in political revolution. Vertov avoided narrative and fiction in his films as they were bourgeois notions. Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera was meant to mobilize the masses through the stylized representation of Russian workers. Instead, some critics felt that the “flashing of images was exhausting”.
Perhaps it can be argued that films dependent on visual spectacle should be short and sweet. After all, Pirates clocks in at 168 minutes and Man With a Movie Camera (which depends strictly on visuals) clocks in at 80 minutes. With no rest in sight it is understandable how one may have trouble sitting through these films without narrative tension driving them forward.But I’m not letting narrative off that easily.
I’m sure everyone has at least one friend who can not sit through a film without pointing out every plot hole that he or she may find. You may be watching a generally solid film with your disbelief relatively suspended by the plot, yet your friend refuses to submit. It is my own personal theory that these people refuse to allow the suspension of their disbelief in an insecure attempt to appear better or smarter than the logic of the film. Not that I condemn the heckling of a movie. I’m talking about extreme cases here.
What these people fail to grasp is that the film itself relies on such discrepancies and trickery to exist. This not only applies to narrative but also to other formal elements. First off, a film’s narrative can never be completely coherent. As a construction at the hands of a writer, a film’s narrative will always be fundamentally flawed. The audience has an advantage of viewing the events of a film’s narrative at a distance, making it easier to criticize the events and actions of the film. With this in mind, I think it is important to quickly identify what a film is going for and not resist the suspension of disbelief. After all, the visual presentation of a film also relies on audiences to submit to illusion. One easily forgets that the motion that is perceived as cinema relies on the viewer’s eyes to fail in distinguishing all 24 frames that a film presents each second. Do people feel the need to point that out every time they see a movie?
I think that people are conditioned to pay more attention to the story of a film. Not only have we been presented with narrative cinema our entire lives, but the history of narrative surpasses that of cinema by millennia. It isn’t a surprise that film has stepped up to the plate as a vehicle for story and narrative. We see the same thing happening to video games. Games that once relied entirely on game play now adopt narrative structures. For example, this is evident in the Super Smash Bros. which, with every installment, incorporates more and more storytelling elements.
We can’t forget about the purely visual aspect of cinema which originally defined the medium. There is an importance in occasionally distancing story and visual in an attempt to appreciate the spectacle. There is validity in Vertov’s desire to avoid narrative. Our culture’s emphasis on “good story” (which can be considered bourgeois…if you want) eclipses the important social functions of cinema. We more often look at films in hopes of having a good time, when often the function of cinema is the opposite.
Aside from that though, can’t we all agree that it can be fun to just go to a theater, turn our brains off, smile at the pretty lights and maybe forget about those undesirable plot twists.
We could blame history. Theorist Tom Gunning wrote that since 1906 cinema has increasingly been more focused on story over visual spectacle. It was in 1906 that the number of narrative-oriented films surpassed that of visually-focused film. These visual films had been able to stand on their own merely through display of images moving independently on a screen. At the time this spectacle was enough to keep audiences paying. And I bet most critics love that old stuff. So why not Speed Racer? Why is it that audience would pay for a purely visual spectacle then, but not now?
For that matter let’s use examples that I’m more familiar with. Last summer Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World’s End hit the screens. While praised for its visuals the film widely flopped with critics due to a series of tedious and confusing plot twists. This makes me wonder when it was that pirate movies picked up the expectation to rival Shakespeare’s Macbeth? Instead of dwelling on where the film lacks, why not emphasize the film’s strengths. This scene in particular struck me as one of the most inventive and unique sequences I had ever seen in a summer blockbuster. It may not have made sense necessarily but it was executed very well. In fact the movie’s cinematography grabbed my attention for most of the film. Aside from the cinematography, the music was also noteworthy. In fact, there are plenty of elements that make up a film and yet story is most widely favoured by audiences.
But I suppose one could argue that as a summer blockbuster Pirates of the Caribbean 3 should have a balance between story and visual as to not isolate audience. This privileging of narrative has plagued technical cinema for decades. Soviet filmmaker Dziga Vertov (1896-1954) dealt with similar criticisms. Vertov felt that by seeing the world through the eye of a camera lens, the masses could achieve a higher understanding of the world they live in resulting in political revolution. Vertov avoided narrative and fiction in his films as they were bourgeois notions. Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera was meant to mobilize the masses through the stylized representation of Russian workers. Instead, some critics felt that the “flashing of images was exhausting”.
Perhaps it can be argued that films dependent on visual spectacle should be short and sweet. After all, Pirates clocks in at 168 minutes and Man With a Movie Camera (which depends strictly on visuals) clocks in at 80 minutes. With no rest in sight it is understandable how one may have trouble sitting through these films without narrative tension driving them forward.But I’m not letting narrative off that easily.
I’m sure everyone has at least one friend who can not sit through a film without pointing out every plot hole that he or she may find. You may be watching a generally solid film with your disbelief relatively suspended by the plot, yet your friend refuses to submit. It is my own personal theory that these people refuse to allow the suspension of their disbelief in an insecure attempt to appear better or smarter than the logic of the film. Not that I condemn the heckling of a movie. I’m talking about extreme cases here.
What these people fail to grasp is that the film itself relies on such discrepancies and trickery to exist. This not only applies to narrative but also to other formal elements. First off, a film’s narrative can never be completely coherent. As a construction at the hands of a writer, a film’s narrative will always be fundamentally flawed. The audience has an advantage of viewing the events of a film’s narrative at a distance, making it easier to criticize the events and actions of the film. With this in mind, I think it is important to quickly identify what a film is going for and not resist the suspension of disbelief. After all, the visual presentation of a film also relies on audiences to submit to illusion. One easily forgets that the motion that is perceived as cinema relies on the viewer’s eyes to fail in distinguishing all 24 frames that a film presents each second. Do people feel the need to point that out every time they see a movie?
I think that people are conditioned to pay more attention to the story of a film. Not only have we been presented with narrative cinema our entire lives, but the history of narrative surpasses that of cinema by millennia. It isn’t a surprise that film has stepped up to the plate as a vehicle for story and narrative. We see the same thing happening to video games. Games that once relied entirely on game play now adopt narrative structures. For example, this is evident in the Super Smash Bros. which, with every installment, incorporates more and more storytelling elements.
We can’t forget about the purely visual aspect of cinema which originally defined the medium. There is an importance in occasionally distancing story and visual in an attempt to appreciate the spectacle. There is validity in Vertov’s desire to avoid narrative. Our culture’s emphasis on “good story” (which can be considered bourgeois…if you want) eclipses the important social functions of cinema. We more often look at films in hopes of having a good time, when often the function of cinema is the opposite.
Aside from that though, can’t we all agree that it can be fun to just go to a theater, turn our brains off, smile at the pretty lights and maybe forget about those undesirable plot twists.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
"Good and Evil in Revenge of the Sith?" by Adam Slight
As I re-watched Episode III with the intention of this article in mind, I had a difficult time stringing together a strong argument that I could make about the film. Subsequently this would become my main criticism for Episode III: Its somewhat of a muddied mess of ups and downs. Lacking previous strength politically, aesthetically and emotionally, Episode III risks coming off too much as a straight effects action flick. It wasn’t until the last 20 minutes that I finally discovered what I could say about this film. After all, everyone knows Episode III is good…its just a matter of figuring out why. Although my thesis isn’t “Episode III is awesome” (I’m saving that for Ryan), I would like to point out an interesting strength that I discovered.
I had my revelation during the final moments of the lava lightsaber duel on Mustafar. Obi-Wan appeals to Anakin yelling “Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil!”, Anakin responds “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!”. This of course is a running motif for the Jedi, first introduced in Return of the Jedi as a ghostly Obi-Wan utters “From a certain point of view”. He uses this phrase to justify lying to Luke about his father’s death. Initially Obi-Wan led Luke to believe that his father, Anakin, was murdered by Darth Vader. In actuality, Darth Vader was Anakin. According to Obi-Wan, Darth Vader did kill Anakin…from a certain point of view.
“Your father was seduced by the dark side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So what I have told you was true... from a certain point of view.”
Obi-Wan continues:
“Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
This is a prime example of the subjectivity of truth that we so often forget about. With this in mind, is Anakin really so wrong in proclaiming that in his point of view, the Jedi are evil? Sure, this could be an example of how the emperor twists the mentality of others. Palpatine spent decades building subtle distrust of the Jedi within Anakin’s heart. However, the possibility that we disagree with Anakin as viewers is because we have five previously made Star Wars movies that tell us that the Sith are evil, and that we must identify with the Jedi. So when we hear Anakin shout this, we are prone to hear these words from a Jedi perspective and reject them. When you watch movies like The Godfather or The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, what is it that connects the viewer to these conventionally immoral characters? We know their actions are wrong yet we still cheer for them. This is of course because we identify with them.
Let me illustrate with an example. Within the first 30 minutes of the film we see General Grievous’ flagship hurtling towards the surface of Coruscant. Inside, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Palpatine cling to their seats as Anakin haphazardly attempts to land the flaming wreckage on a landing strip. As the ship strikes the surface it recklessly slides along the pavement, smashing a nearby flight control tower. Finally the ship comes to a halt. We are relieved to see that our heroes are still in one piece.
This is because we can identify with them. We’ve already endured 30 minutes of adventure with them, not to mention 4 hours of additional adventures in Episode I and II. “Good”, we think, “They landed safely”. Yes, but what do you think the families of those who died in the demolished control tower think? I’m sure they may question the justification of recklessly attempting to salvage a flaming piece of junk for the lives of three, instead of blasting it out of the sky and preserving the lives of many within the tower.
Of course there are endless counter-arguments to the technicalities in this example, but it effectively illustrates how our identification with certain characters lead us to assume their ideologies and values.
So this brings us back to the question: Who are evil, the Jedi or the Sith. Well, both, and neither at the same time. First one must consider if the concepts of right and wrong, or good and evil are fallible. What makes the Sith evil and the Jedi good? Both have potentially redeeming qualities, depending on your point of view. While a Catholic nun may consider the Jedi’s vow of chastity, poverty and obedience to be quite comfy, Friedrich Nietzsche writes of an instinctual, passionate Dionysian state that is similar to that of Sith philosophy.
This may not be convincing enough. After all, Palpatine did orchestrate a full scale war, obliterate the Jedi order, and usurp the Galactic Republic to attain complete control of the galaxy. Even if everyone can agree that these acts were immoral or evil, Palpatine did these things to achieve order. These seemingly audacious acts are all a means to an orderly end. As long as nobody opposes the Empire, the galaxy is peaceful. Couldn’t this, from some stretch of the imagination or a certain point of view, seem good. Look at the French Revolution. While the events of the revolution were violent and bloody, history tells us to appreciate the upheaval of the French monarchy, aristocracy and clergy which preceded it.
On the other hand, the Jedi are considered to uphold peace and stability in the Empire. From an early age, they meditate the mysteries of the force and defend those who are weak. But don’t the Jedi also kill? What’s the difference between a Jedi taking one’s life and a Sith taking one’s life? The Jedi kill to defend their ideologies and the Sith kill to defend theirs. Mace Windu must kill Palpatine because he is too dangerous to be kept alive. However, Palpatine is only too dangerous to the Jedi ideology to be kept alive. If neither the Sith nor the Jedi are absolutely moral, then how can this mortal defense of the Jedi ideology be justified?
“But just look at them!” you may proclaim. After all, the Sith do look quite menacing. But why do they look menacing? Do their appearances stir primal fears within our psyches related to predatorial instincts from our past? Or is it more likely that the Sith look evil because of conventions from previous movies. In the classic western films, the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black hats. I think this association with appearance and good/evil pertains to this. Besides, couldn’t we agree that Emperor Palpatine bears a striking resemblance to Pope Benedict?
Clearly there is a paradox present. Essentially the Sith are evil because they oppose the ideologies of the Jedi. Similarly, the Jedi are good because they oppose the ideologies of the Sith. But if you’re a Sith, the Jedi are evil because they oppose you. One assumes the ideology that they identify with, and assigns it the quality of “good”. The ambiguity of a set moral system makes a true “good and evil” impossible.
So perhaps Anakin was wrong, only because his conduct and the conduct of his associates (Palpatine, The Empire) conflict with the common ideologies of most audiences. Most agree that cold murder and totalitarian governments are evil. But just because we agree or disagree doesn’t make it right or wrong. Anakin became a Sith to protect the girl he loved, but ends up killing her. This failure to accomplish his set goals through Sith means could demonstrate the error of his choice.
At the end of the day the ambiguity of good and evil is readily present in Revenge of the Sith. Such distinctions are purely based in the eye of the beholder. Oh wait, the bad guys are named: Sidious, Maul, Tyrannus and Grievous. Nevermind…they are evil. Scratch everything I just said.
I had my revelation during the final moments of the lava lightsaber duel on Mustafar. Obi-Wan appeals to Anakin yelling “Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil!”, Anakin responds “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!”. This of course is a running motif for the Jedi, first introduced in Return of the Jedi as a ghostly Obi-Wan utters “From a certain point of view”. He uses this phrase to justify lying to Luke about his father’s death. Initially Obi-Wan led Luke to believe that his father, Anakin, was murdered by Darth Vader. In actuality, Darth Vader was Anakin. According to Obi-Wan, Darth Vader did kill Anakin…from a certain point of view.
“Your father was seduced by the dark side of the Force. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So what I have told you was true... from a certain point of view.”
Obi-Wan continues:
“Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
This is a prime example of the subjectivity of truth that we so often forget about. With this in mind, is Anakin really so wrong in proclaiming that in his point of view, the Jedi are evil? Sure, this could be an example of how the emperor twists the mentality of others. Palpatine spent decades building subtle distrust of the Jedi within Anakin’s heart. However, the possibility that we disagree with Anakin as viewers is because we have five previously made Star Wars movies that tell us that the Sith are evil, and that we must identify with the Jedi. So when we hear Anakin shout this, we are prone to hear these words from a Jedi perspective and reject them. When you watch movies like The Godfather or The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, what is it that connects the viewer to these conventionally immoral characters? We know their actions are wrong yet we still cheer for them. This is of course because we identify with them.
Let me illustrate with an example. Within the first 30 minutes of the film we see General Grievous’ flagship hurtling towards the surface of Coruscant. Inside, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Palpatine cling to their seats as Anakin haphazardly attempts to land the flaming wreckage on a landing strip. As the ship strikes the surface it recklessly slides along the pavement, smashing a nearby flight control tower. Finally the ship comes to a halt. We are relieved to see that our heroes are still in one piece.
This is because we can identify with them. We’ve already endured 30 minutes of adventure with them, not to mention 4 hours of additional adventures in Episode I and II. “Good”, we think, “They landed safely”. Yes, but what do you think the families of those who died in the demolished control tower think? I’m sure they may question the justification of recklessly attempting to salvage a flaming piece of junk for the lives of three, instead of blasting it out of the sky and preserving the lives of many within the tower.
Of course there are endless counter-arguments to the technicalities in this example, but it effectively illustrates how our identification with certain characters lead us to assume their ideologies and values.
So this brings us back to the question: Who are evil, the Jedi or the Sith. Well, both, and neither at the same time. First one must consider if the concepts of right and wrong, or good and evil are fallible. What makes the Sith evil and the Jedi good? Both have potentially redeeming qualities, depending on your point of view. While a Catholic nun may consider the Jedi’s vow of chastity, poverty and obedience to be quite comfy, Friedrich Nietzsche writes of an instinctual, passionate Dionysian state that is similar to that of Sith philosophy.
This may not be convincing enough. After all, Palpatine did orchestrate a full scale war, obliterate the Jedi order, and usurp the Galactic Republic to attain complete control of the galaxy. Even if everyone can agree that these acts were immoral or evil, Palpatine did these things to achieve order. These seemingly audacious acts are all a means to an orderly end. As long as nobody opposes the Empire, the galaxy is peaceful. Couldn’t this, from some stretch of the imagination or a certain point of view, seem good. Look at the French Revolution. While the events of the revolution were violent and bloody, history tells us to appreciate the upheaval of the French monarchy, aristocracy and clergy which preceded it.
On the other hand, the Jedi are considered to uphold peace and stability in the Empire. From an early age, they meditate the mysteries of the force and defend those who are weak. But don’t the Jedi also kill? What’s the difference between a Jedi taking one’s life and a Sith taking one’s life? The Jedi kill to defend their ideologies and the Sith kill to defend theirs. Mace Windu must kill Palpatine because he is too dangerous to be kept alive. However, Palpatine is only too dangerous to the Jedi ideology to be kept alive. If neither the Sith nor the Jedi are absolutely moral, then how can this mortal defense of the Jedi ideology be justified?
“But just look at them!” you may proclaim. After all, the Sith do look quite menacing. But why do they look menacing? Do their appearances stir primal fears within our psyches related to predatorial instincts from our past? Or is it more likely that the Sith look evil because of conventions from previous movies. In the classic western films, the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black hats. I think this association with appearance and good/evil pertains to this. Besides, couldn’t we agree that Emperor Palpatine bears a striking resemblance to Pope Benedict?
Clearly there is a paradox present. Essentially the Sith are evil because they oppose the ideologies of the Jedi. Similarly, the Jedi are good because they oppose the ideologies of the Sith. But if you’re a Sith, the Jedi are evil because they oppose you. One assumes the ideology that they identify with, and assigns it the quality of “good”. The ambiguity of a set moral system makes a true “good and evil” impossible.
So perhaps Anakin was wrong, only because his conduct and the conduct of his associates (Palpatine, The Empire) conflict with the common ideologies of most audiences. Most agree that cold murder and totalitarian governments are evil. But just because we agree or disagree doesn’t make it right or wrong. Anakin became a Sith to protect the girl he loved, but ends up killing her. This failure to accomplish his set goals through Sith means could demonstrate the error of his choice.
At the end of the day the ambiguity of good and evil is readily present in Revenge of the Sith. Such distinctions are purely based in the eye of the beholder. Oh wait, the bad guys are named: Sidious, Maul, Tyrannus and Grievous. Nevermind…they are evil. Scratch everything I just said.
Monday, April 7, 2008
"All's Fair in Love and War: Justifying an Attack of the Clones" By Adam Slight
While Ryan and I could debate back and forth about the pod-race sequence like an astromech and a protocol droid, instead I will use my analysis of Attack of the Clones to demonstrate the importance of viewing Star Wars from an stand point of “as is” instead of “what should be”.
Attack of the Clones was attacked by popular critics for being wooden and awkward. By implication these critics are referring to what Star Wars “should be”. I would like to debate that Attack of the Clones, while the most anomalous installment of the six, also has some of the most interesting thematic complexities of the Saga. If the film were any different these complexities would not exist and we’d be left with a weak younger brother of Empire Strikes Back.
I compare Attack of the Clones to Empire Strikes Back because they are both “second acts” of their respective trilogies. The most dominant characteristic of the second act is that it is often the darkest and most ambiguous chapter of the story. The characters falter after a successful first act and they become unsure of themselves. This is most obvious with the Jedi Order in Attack of the Clones. Mace Windu sums it up when he says “We’re keepers of the peace, not soldiers”. It is in Attack of the Clones that the role of the Jedi becomes questioned. How far does a Jedi’s mandate go? And the question can extend to the viewer: What justifies violence?
This struggle is mirrored in Obi Wan’s quest throughout the movie which resembles that of a 1930’s gumshoe detective story. Obi Wan’s quest begins in a familiar diner with a familiar friend named Dex and from here-on, Obi-Wan delves deeper into the unknown. This is the first time the series that the Jedi must face the unfamiliar apart from the Sith. Both Kamino and Geonosis are planets outside of Republic jurisdiction. This reflects not only in the actually unfamiliarity of the planets, but also in the architecture, weaponry and creatures that are seen on these worlds. The hive-like structures, and complex factories on Geonosis inhabited by their bug-like denizens are not only foreign to Star Wars audiences but difficult for any person to relate to as familiar creatures. Their weapons are unfamiliar (are they guns? are they canons?...and what about the seismic charges?). This is also the first time we see Jedi casually killed. Obi Wan and the Jedi are up against a chaos of unknown forces. This brings to bare many questions of conduct and reveals the ambiguity of the Jedi Order.
And just when you thought things were ambiguous enough, let’s not forget about the highly criticized Anakin/Padmé love plot. It’s important to investigate what people disliked about the love plot. Primarily it is scrutinized for feeling unnatural. This is a “should be” instance, implying that it “should be” more natural. I’ll be the first to go on record that the awkward dialogue and unnatural love scenes are instrumental contributions to the film’s thematic framework. Considering most reading this essay have a theoretical interest in Star Wars, it safe to assume that they have lived their share of awkward experiences with the opposite sex. How would you act if you were a member of a sexually repressive order, fell in love with someone, dwelt on it for 10 years and finally had your chance to express your feelings? This almost justifies Anakin’s hate for sand, doesn’t it! (Wink, Wink, Nudge, Nudge). This mutual sexual confusion, and awkward dialogue (and the death of Anakin’s mother not to mention) creates tension in the characters and in audiences that further strengthens the unknown anxiety of the film.
John Williams’ score, while less grand than any other Star Wars score, further propagates the mysterious and anxious tone of the film. The love theme “Across the Stars” is more haunting than romantic as it hints to the unpredictability of their relationship and the psyches of the film’s characters.Ultimately, we can understand that within the context of the film, this anxiety comes to represent the dark side which is slowly veiling the senses of the Jedi and are becoming more and more entrenched in the events of the story. The original pending title of Attack of the Clones was actually Star Wars: Episode II: Rise of the Empire, and to risk sounding hypocritical, I’d say that would be the only “should be” that I will endorse in this essay. Let me explain.
After 90 minutes of “anxiety”, as I’ve been calling it, the viewer begins searching for some kind of catharsis or relief. In the face of such chaos George Lucas demonstrates how tyranny is born. As the viewer becomes more anxious, they are willing to accept any type of salvation. It is at this point that Chancellor Palpatine makes his plea for emergency powers and the adoption of a Republic Army. Just as the audience hopes for some order to repair the chaotic anxiety of the film, the Galactic Senate hopes Palpatine can restore order to the Galaxy – and you have to admit…you know Palpatine is evil, but you wouldn’t mind seeing those clones in action either.
And so, all this time Lucas has been building up tension in the audiences so that they feel the justification of war, autonomy and an army. Lucas demonstrates the effects of charisma on a population by using the very audience as an example. The final battle is the catharsis the audience has yearned for, and yet, we don’t have the Jedi to thank…but instead the army.
In light of the ambiguity that Attack of the Clones displays, the film concludes on a different note. The ambiguous, emotional nature of the Jedi is rectified as we see orderly legions of Clone Troopers departing for battle, off to replace the Jedi. We also see Anakin and Padmé’s chaotic love tamed by the stabilized institution of marriage. And thus The Empire is born. Does this entire scenario sound familiar to anyone?
While I defended Episode I for its “Star Warsness”, I defend Attack of the Clones for its lack thereof. It stands alone as a concise commentary on global politics and global conduct. While I may not be able to defend C-3P0’s conduct, nor the rolling in the grass, I think it is important to consider the films “as is” instead of jumping to “what should be”. You may be surprised what you find from “a certain point of view”.
Attack of the Clones was attacked by popular critics for being wooden and awkward. By implication these critics are referring to what Star Wars “should be”. I would like to debate that Attack of the Clones, while the most anomalous installment of the six, also has some of the most interesting thematic complexities of the Saga. If the film were any different these complexities would not exist and we’d be left with a weak younger brother of Empire Strikes Back.
I compare Attack of the Clones to Empire Strikes Back because they are both “second acts” of their respective trilogies. The most dominant characteristic of the second act is that it is often the darkest and most ambiguous chapter of the story. The characters falter after a successful first act and they become unsure of themselves. This is most obvious with the Jedi Order in Attack of the Clones. Mace Windu sums it up when he says “We’re keepers of the peace, not soldiers”. It is in Attack of the Clones that the role of the Jedi becomes questioned. How far does a Jedi’s mandate go? And the question can extend to the viewer: What justifies violence?
This struggle is mirrored in Obi Wan’s quest throughout the movie which resembles that of a 1930’s gumshoe detective story. Obi Wan’s quest begins in a familiar diner with a familiar friend named Dex and from here-on, Obi-Wan delves deeper into the unknown. This is the first time the series that the Jedi must face the unfamiliar apart from the Sith. Both Kamino and Geonosis are planets outside of Republic jurisdiction. This reflects not only in the actually unfamiliarity of the planets, but also in the architecture, weaponry and creatures that are seen on these worlds. The hive-like structures, and complex factories on Geonosis inhabited by their bug-like denizens are not only foreign to Star Wars audiences but difficult for any person to relate to as familiar creatures. Their weapons are unfamiliar (are they guns? are they canons?...and what about the seismic charges?). This is also the first time we see Jedi casually killed. Obi Wan and the Jedi are up against a chaos of unknown forces. This brings to bare many questions of conduct and reveals the ambiguity of the Jedi Order.
And just when you thought things were ambiguous enough, let’s not forget about the highly criticized Anakin/Padmé love plot. It’s important to investigate what people disliked about the love plot. Primarily it is scrutinized for feeling unnatural. This is a “should be” instance, implying that it “should be” more natural. I’ll be the first to go on record that the awkward dialogue and unnatural love scenes are instrumental contributions to the film’s thematic framework. Considering most reading this essay have a theoretical interest in Star Wars, it safe to assume that they have lived their share of awkward experiences with the opposite sex. How would you act if you were a member of a sexually repressive order, fell in love with someone, dwelt on it for 10 years and finally had your chance to express your feelings? This almost justifies Anakin’s hate for sand, doesn’t it! (Wink, Wink, Nudge, Nudge). This mutual sexual confusion, and awkward dialogue (and the death of Anakin’s mother not to mention) creates tension in the characters and in audiences that further strengthens the unknown anxiety of the film.
John Williams’ score, while less grand than any other Star Wars score, further propagates the mysterious and anxious tone of the film. The love theme “Across the Stars” is more haunting than romantic as it hints to the unpredictability of their relationship and the psyches of the film’s characters.Ultimately, we can understand that within the context of the film, this anxiety comes to represent the dark side which is slowly veiling the senses of the Jedi and are becoming more and more entrenched in the events of the story. The original pending title of Attack of the Clones was actually Star Wars: Episode II: Rise of the Empire, and to risk sounding hypocritical, I’d say that would be the only “should be” that I will endorse in this essay. Let me explain.
After 90 minutes of “anxiety”, as I’ve been calling it, the viewer begins searching for some kind of catharsis or relief. In the face of such chaos George Lucas demonstrates how tyranny is born. As the viewer becomes more anxious, they are willing to accept any type of salvation. It is at this point that Chancellor Palpatine makes his plea for emergency powers and the adoption of a Republic Army. Just as the audience hopes for some order to repair the chaotic anxiety of the film, the Galactic Senate hopes Palpatine can restore order to the Galaxy – and you have to admit…you know Palpatine is evil, but you wouldn’t mind seeing those clones in action either.
And so, all this time Lucas has been building up tension in the audiences so that they feel the justification of war, autonomy and an army. Lucas demonstrates the effects of charisma on a population by using the very audience as an example. The final battle is the catharsis the audience has yearned for, and yet, we don’t have the Jedi to thank…but instead the army.
In light of the ambiguity that Attack of the Clones displays, the film concludes on a different note. The ambiguous, emotional nature of the Jedi is rectified as we see orderly legions of Clone Troopers departing for battle, off to replace the Jedi. We also see Anakin and Padmé’s chaotic love tamed by the stabilized institution of marriage. And thus The Empire is born. Does this entire scenario sound familiar to anyone?
While I defended Episode I for its “Star Warsness”, I defend Attack of the Clones for its lack thereof. It stands alone as a concise commentary on global politics and global conduct. While I may not be able to defend C-3P0’s conduct, nor the rolling in the grass, I think it is important to consider the films “as is” instead of jumping to “what should be”. You may be surprised what you find from “a certain point of view”.
"RE: Defending Episode I" By Ryan Bradley
Review of “Defending Episode 1”
I do not think that one can state that the releases of the prequels are simply of cash-cowing. In this regard I agree with the claims made be Mr. Slight. These days we are seeing more and more of our beloved movie icons, Rocky Balboa, Rambo, Indiana Jones and the Star Wars prequels, attempting to make one last stand in world of Hollywood; Are these all acts towards money grabs? or is it a simple case of bringing back our childhood heroes and giving them a new aged feel? I believe that if an honest effort has been put in to revitalizing the original then it is not simply a case of mooing for money.
So, did George Lucas try to avoid this and is Adam Slight’s support of Episode 1 justified. George clearly did attempt to add a modern twist to the classic films that have been the root of nerd wet dreams for over 30 years. This attempt grants these prequels the right to a in a galaxy far far away. The question of whether the methodology of the new films was successful utilized has raised much debate in the realm of critics, nerds, movie lovers and scholars. I must say that the defense laid out by Adam is relatively legit with a few degrees of error.
The cinematic experience that Episode 1 provided is nearly up to par with it predecessors as almost every shot in the movie counts. Lucas’ success in this matter has lead me to often catch myself smiling with glee at different points in the movie such as the Darth Maul battle. Criticism for the over use of special effects is completely unjustified. Advancements in the movie industry have made the techniques of the classic trilogy completely obsolete. Had Lucas not tried to spice up this new movie with some new special effects, I’m almost positive that he would have be scrutinized for his lack of film integrity and inability to adapt with the times. The cinematography is combined beautifully with special effects and he does not completely rely on the CGI.
The worlds and characters of the star wars universe are explored and presented with ALMOST no error. The set design the new worlds such as Naboo and old worlds like Tatooine stayed true to the beauty of the old movies as one gets a perfect feel for the atmosphere of the setting of interest. For example, Mos Eisley is still the place where “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy ones” as seen in every shot in the city like the conversation with Sebula or the inclusion of the Hutts. The characters are also presented in such a manner where it is easy to understand how each is related to one another, the mysteries linking them all and all of their motivating forces behind their actions. Many of the character interactions exemplified in this movie are evident throughout the distinct social history of our real world. This cinematic connection used by Lucas allows the viewer to fall in love with every aspect of the worlds and immediately understand the complex relationships linking them all.
This being said, I cannot fully support Adam’s claim “To condemn Jar Jar for his silliness would be to put one’s self at risk of ethnocentricity”. This is not a matter of ethnicity by any means of the definition. Had Jar Jar been a goofy human, he would have still taken away from the overall cinematic experience. I could write a whole essay on reasons why Jar Jar Binks is the worst thing in any of the six films. “I Spack” “Ooh mooey mooey I love you!” “whatta meesa sayin'?”; four of the 100 lines that Jar Jar Spacks in the movie that makes me want to tear up every time I hear him say something. Least we forgot “How wude!” x 20. Big Boss Nass and Captain Tarpals were strong characters and the gungans clearly are a mighty race. What really bothers me about Jar Jar is that Lucas seemed to forgot that “cute and loveable” characters that supply comic relief yet still have a crucial role in the plot have no place in the star wars universe. Ewoks USED to be the most hated things outside the old republic until this Binks character came along. I can assure you, the fact that I wish Jar Jar’s face got burnt of in a power coupling is in no way for ethnocentric reasons. (My distaste for the ewok race may in fact be, but that’s a whole different story).
A final problem with the movie as well as Adam’s critique is in the podrace scene. I realize that this is a crucial scene in terms of the plot, but its easily 15 minutes too long. I have also watched the Ben Hur clip and do think that the similarities between the two is a clever and I also recognize that the chariot race in Ben Hur is long. However, Ben Hur was an extra 100 minutes long in total, thus it had time to pull something like that off as the viewer clearly was sitting down for an epically long movie. I love star wars and everything that it stands for but the length of this podrace and its lack of connection with the rest of the series makes me almost struggle to keep interest.
Adam accurately defended this movie for all the right reasons despite my two above objections. There are other things that I agree with that I do not need to touch because of the excellent arguments deployed (ie. The dialoged of the movie—“Sand storms are very…. Very…. Dangerous” is not exactly A material but its stays true to the classics). If you did hate the first episode, I also encourage you to fire up your vcr, sit back, mute the Jar Jar scenes and give it at least one more shot. Don’t look for reasons why it’s not as good as the original three. If you must compare, look for similarities between the two and, I promise you, it will not disappoint. I look forward to the next two analyses and the coming discussion revolving around my future claim that Episode 3 is the most star warsy out of the three. We shall cross that Great Pit of Carkoon when we get there.
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