Dies Redemptio
WARNING: The following is a spoiler-ridden review of Star Wars - Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I swear to God, if you ignore this warning and you e-mail me complaining that I ruined it for you, I am going to print out a copy of this review, staple it to your spinal cord, and set it on fire. Then, I’m going to kill you. I mean it. I am going to take your life. Anyway…
A great bass drum beats menacingly beneath the anthem of the Force. Two starfighters zip across the bow of a Republic starship, hotdogging in unison. It is clear that we are in orbit around the galactic capital, though we do not quite see what is going on over the planet, or what these two fighters are doing there and who is flying them. For several agonizing seconds, we wait expectantly. We know exactly what is going on. We know what we are about to see. We’ve known it for more than a year. Yet, he teases us, dangles it in front of our noses, waiting for exactly the right moment. And then at last, WHOOM, the overwhelming carnage below, swarms of starships hurling endless barages of light at each other - the Battle of Coruscant.
I felt a tear well up, and I spoke of the divine excrement to anyone who might want to hear my thoughts on the spectacle, the only words with which I felt I could properly convey the feeling. With this thirty second shot, one which the fair Lucas massaged and tenderized to the paramount of majesty, begins Star Wars - Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and with that fanfare comes the penance of the prodigal director.
The furball rages on below, but this scene is not about a battle, nor is it about the rescue of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine from the clutches of General Grievous, and the death of Darth Tyranus; it is about Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, brothers in the Force, and their bond as lifelong comrades. The music sits back for many portions of this act, allowing the action to instead be punctuated by the friendly banter between the Chosen One and his mentor.
The characters shine. Anakin’s confidence and arrogance are unmistakable as he uses his ship, in midflight, to gently sweep a swarm of droids from the surface of Obi-Wan’s fighter. Kenobi, on the other hand, is clearly getting old. “Nothing too fancy,” he beseeches to his astromech droid when it comes time to evade a pair of incoming missiles. The aging Master is also the only character in the film to deliver the obligatory line, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
For twenty-five to thirty wildly entertaining minutes, it seems like business as usual. The rescue is filled with lighthearted chatter between the Jedi, and Artoo Deetoo breaks up the action with a generous but measured helping of comic relief. Contrasting with Threepio’s annoying puns from Episode II, the laughs are welcome and appreciated. As a matter of fact, without them, Revenge of the Sith would be impossible to bear, not because the film is bad - it is, in fact, better than I ever could have hoped; it is the quality itself of the tale that causes it to be hard on the emotions.
Make no mistake, this movie is dark. The deaths of Owen and Beru Lars in Episode IV were little more than tragic. The revelation of Darth Vader as Luke Skywalker’s father in Episode V was merely bleak. Episode III is what the other five Star Wars episodes never even tried to be: depressing, shocking, powerful. It is like no Star Wars film that you have yet seen. Characters that we’ve known and cared about since 1999 are murdered by their own savior. Palpatine’s transformation into the hideous figure we loved to hate in Episode VI is positively gruesome. Mace Windu’s death is intensely painful. Yoda loses a fight.
That is something that deserves its own discussion. To date, we have thought of Yoda as the most powerful being in the galaxy, an indestructible Master of the Force. No matter how impossible a feat seemed, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that Yoda could perform it. But here, in his battle with Emperor Palpatine, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Yoda gets hit. The sight of the most beloved character in the Star Wars saga lying on the floor, helpless, is terribly heartbreaking. To hear him admit his failure to destroy Darth Sidious feels like betrayal.
The corruption of Anakin does not happen instantly. Palpatine manipulates him, his trust in the Jedi falters, his desire for power grows over time. We can see the conflict in him, right up until he turns to the Dark Side. None would sense this conflict again until he is reunited with his son on Bespin.
The poetry of his fall can not be contested. He is faced with a choice, the choice between following his beliefs, allowing to happen what he knows must be done to keep order in the galaxy, and forsaking everything to save someone he loves - the same choice that he faces twenty years later during the Battle of Endor. In both cases, his compassion for those he cares about takes hold, and in both cases, his alignment in the Force is reversed. Love leads him to both his downfall and to his redemption.
The Jedi Purge then follows, and it is a horrible thing to see. Ki-Adi-Mundi beckons his clone troopers forward in battle, only to be fired on himself by his own men. A small platoon of clones should have been no match for a Jedi Master, but caught off guard as he was, there was little he could do to prevent their blasters from boring through his chest. Around the galaxy, the Jedi fall as the London Symphony Orchestra croons a somber elegy. And at last, we see Yoda, and the look of shock he wears as he feels so many Jedi become one with the Force.
We know what must happen next: Obi-Wan will track Anakin down, engage him in battle, and defeat him. And so the duel we’ve all been waiting to see begins, what John Williams dubbed the Battle of the Heroes, when Obi-Wan confronts his former Padawan on Mustafar. Lucas does not pull this punch. Anakin burns. His flesh is seared to blackness. He screams in agony. And the victorious Obi-Wan can do nothing more than leave him there to die.
Anakin does not die, of course. We are well aware of the continuity: his nearly destroyed body is rebuilt with cybernetic prosthetics, and a black mask is placed over his scarred face. The artificial respirator is switched on, and we hear the familiar hoooooo-khaaaahhhhh for the first time. But when that deep, intimidating voice that we have been waiting to hear finally speaks, it is not the voice of a mighty Sith Lord. The timbre is there, it is James Earl Jones, but Vader’s voice croaks slightly, we can hear his pain as he weakly asks, “Where is Padme?”
Star Wars Episode III is a brilliantly executed tragedy. If I sound like I’m swooning, it’s because I am. That is not, however, to say that Revenge of the Sith is perfect. Most of its faults, however, can be attributed to the sheer volume of meat that had to be crammed into the film. There were just so many plot points that needed to be touched on, to include them all would have required more than three hours of screen time. Instead, we get many short, slightly choppy scenes, as opposed to the long, drawn-out subplots of the other five movies. I was particularly disappointed to find that Mon Mothma’s scene was cut, as it was supposed to lay the foundation for the Rebel Alliance. I hope it gets put back in for the DVD.
So the movie is merely excellent. Darn. I know there are those of you out there that hated it, however, and you all piss me off to no end. I will speak to you as if you are together a single individual, because all of you think identically anyway.
You are a fat, sweaty dud. You sit at your computer all day, your fat, sweaty hands rapping away on the keyboard as you rant on Slashdot about how Lucas has beefed all over your childhood. Do you even hear yourself saying that? Do you recognize for a moment what that says about you? I can fill you in if you like: it says that you are a fat, sweaty blob who spent his innocent years obsessing over a movie instead of playing kickball outside with the rest of the kids, and now you compensate for it with prose intended to show that you are too smart to like a movie that everyone else likes. Oh, boo hoo, Jar Jar Binks, wah wah, midi-chlorians, Jesus, if it meant that much to you, why didn’t you just get up and make it yourself? Oh, that’s right, because you’re fat and sweaty. Do yourself a big favor: put away the Cheetos, move out of your parents’ house, wash your greasy hair, and try going on a date for once. You are a worthless slob whom the Catholic Church is one day going to point to when they say, “If Darwin was so smart, then why is that guy still alive?”
Critics who gave Episode III poor reviews draw similar ire. There are fewer this time around, but their irrationality is as pungent and rancid as ever. They, like the nerds, buy into the fad, poopooing yet another great movie just so they can demonstrate to the world what cultured, refined cunts they are.
To both of these groups, the nerds and the critics, I say this: you are all despicable. You make no contribution to this society whatsoever. You sit at your desks ranting self-importantly about a movie that will have no more overall bearing on the course of history than the bad half-and-half I poured down the drain the other day. If this were ten thousand years ago, you’d have all been eaten by predators before adulthood, and I would have pointed and laughed and then killed the predators just so I myself could eat your flesh. I don’t even care what you think of Star Wars. That’s not what cheeses me. I want you all out of this genepool because you as a collective are a regression of the human race. All of you pretentious wastes of space should be slaughtered en masse for being what you are.
Think, you mindless lemmings. Use your own brains for once, instead of mirroring what the other useless lumps of meat are saying. You’re complaining about a movie to be popular, with nerds no less. How pathetic can you get?
Rrrgh. Anyway, in conclusion, I liked Revenge of the Sith.