Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Logic and science dictate that this is a complete fallacy, but I still stick by it. My earliest memory is of The Empire Strikes Back; specifically the AT-AT walkers storming across the frozen tundra of Hoth. Of course, Empire was released just four months after my birth, so it doesn’t seem likely that this memory is anything more than a delusion. But I stick by it. If I don’t, then I have nothing until my brother got the tip of his ring finger torn off. And who wants that?

Of all the Star Wars films, The Empire Strikes Back has gone through the greatest metamorphosis in terms of my appreciation. I was a Return of the Jedi kid. The first scenes with Jabba the Hutt and the finale with the Ewoks just played better for me than the dark, emotional turmoil of Empire. Aside from the opening battle on Hoth and the chase through the asteroid field, Empire lacked the abundance of action set pieces that the other installments had. For a young, adventurous boy, a character study of his sci-fi heroes just won’t cut it. But now that I am older and wiser, I can see how this film has shown to be the most fascinating of the entire franchise.

After the revelry that concluded A New Hope, one would expect to find the Empire on its heels as the next chapter begins. Instead, the assault on the Death Star appears to have been a grand hit and run, as the Rebellion finds itself chased to the most remote parts of the galaxy by an awakened Empire. To make sure the dire direction of this next chapter is not underestimated, our hero, Luke Skywalker is ambushed and bloodied by an extremely nasty wampa within the first five minutes of the film.

Inside the cramped, cold chambers of the rebel base, things are just as grim. The plucky, sassy grin of Princess Leia has been replaced with a much more grim countenance. Han Solo is packing up after, we’re told, a foreboding exchange with a bounty hunter between films. The looks exchanged between Han and Leia during the imparting of this news speaks of a greater, sadder history that went unseen after the Death Star’s destruction. We know how these people came to know each other, but right off the bat it is clear that many more hardships have brought them closer together.

Leia and Han’s banter in the hallway is the type of exchange that is sorely missed in the prequel trilogy. Han’s expectation of a heartfelt good-bye is spoiled by Leia’s like-minded hard-headedness, but he does his best to drag it out of her.

“What’s the matter? Afraid I was gonna leave without giving you a good-bye kiss?”

“I’d just as soon kiss a wookie.”

“I can arrange that.”

This dialogue is sharp and witty and is only bettered by the performances of Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher. I guarantee nothing comes close to matching this interplay in Episode I or II. I have suspicions about why this is, but I’ll leave that until I review the prequels again.

One of the more interesting strengths of Star Wars has been its vehicle design, and never is this more apparent than in the opening scenes on Hoth. The most notable example would be the Millenium Falcon, who Han Solo commonly refers to as “Baby.” The Millenium Falcon is so much a part of the cast that she should have a place in the credits. I was so fond of the Falcon as a character that when Kevin J. Anderson decided it might be cool to destroy it in his Star Wars novel, Jedi Search, I stopped reading the Star Wars books. In Empire, the Falcon shows more dynamics as a character than many of the actors in the prequel trilogy. She’s broke down half the time, nearly electrocuting Han during repairs. When Han turns the ship on and it quickly shuts down again, he gives her a swift smack and she comes back alive, like somebody who’s struggling to come out of a nap. The futile revving noise that follows the attempts to engage the hyperdrive reminds us of a struggling automobile, but there’s also something strangely human about it.

Almost matching the Falcon in its character are the rambling AT-AT walkers. Many of Lucas’ vehicle creations resemble animals; the AT-AT walkers like some giant metal dinosaur with laser cannons for fangs and droopy windows for eyes. My favorite moment in the ice battle has one of these awesome creatures rearing back on its haunches just a bit and twisting to the side to take out a Rebel speeder that is coming at it from an awkward angle. Up until that point in the battle, the walkers merely soldiered forward, occasionally swinging their heads one way or another, but here they looked quite agile, like a living creature. It makes Lucas’ universe that much more organic and alive.

But of course, when it comes to mechanical creations exuding life, one can’t continue without mentioning R2-D2 and C-3PO. Both droids in Empire are given impressive tasks and they handle both with aplomb. And I don’t mean tasks within the plot, I mean tasks as performers in an ensemble.

C-3PO gets in his fair share of comedic moments, but they differ completely from his “What a drag” nonsense in Episode II. If the genius writing of Episode II had been transplanted into Empire, we likely would have seen Threepio moaning about how “broken up” he was about being blasted to pieces. But Threepio’s performance in Empire was about character, not horrible puns. The prissy English butler came out in spades as Chewbacca tried the best he could to repair the dismantled droid. But the poor wookie just couldn’t do it right, putting Threepio’s head on backwards and blinding him for a moment. Of course, Goldenrod points each mistake out with his usual aristocratic panache. These are great moments that help diffuse the darker tones of the film. Perhaps his best moments come when Artoo reunites with the gang and Threepio, upset about his horrible view during the firefight, updates his counterpart on their quest to rescue Han from Boba Fett. It’s so casual and direct and funny coming from a droid who one episode ago was decrying Artoo’s adventurous spirit. “No more adventures,” he had said, but good old Threepio seems to be getting into the swing of things, and it is a delight to watch.

R2-D2 steals nearly every scene he’s in, whether it be swimming joyfully through the swamp waters of Dagobah or getting up on his tiptoes to peek in Yoda’s window. Even a slapstick moment like confusing an electrical socket for a computer input plays well (without drawing attention to itself or distracting from the urgency of the plot). And who would have ever thought that the Jedi Master and a plucky blue droid would be such perfect foils for each other. My favorite comedic moment in the film is Yoda and Artoo’s scuffle over the penlight.

Yoda’s appearance in Empire probably benefits the most from the prequels. After watching Yoda throw down with Count Dooku, his moments of concealed identity are so much more interesting and much funnier. I can’t believe in the eight years since I’ve watched Empire, I forgot Yoda’s laugh. My God! His entire personality comes through in that laugh. Sure it’s interesting that he’s small and green and yet powerful. But that laugh. It brings the whole package together. And yet, I can’t remember Yoda laughing once during the prequels. I know that the prequels have a darker purpose underneath them, but the fact that Yoda can go from yelling “Mine! Mine!” at Artoo while hitting him with his cane to “That is why you fail” when Luke underestimates his master is proof that you can show Yoda’s seriousness while still allowing that quirky personality to come through.

Yoda in Empire also typifies my troublesome relationship with computer graphics versus physical effects. Part of me, no matter how savvy I have become about film production, refuses to believe this propaganda about Yoda being a puppet. No, I still believe he came down out of his mansion in Beverly Hills to film his spot in Empire, then went back to enjoy the quiet life away from the press, like Carson – or Brando without the crazy. Sure he walked kind of funny and had a little bit of a lazy eye thing going on, but for Christ’s sake people – he’s 800 years old. Even Oprah will be struggling at that age.

When I accept that Yoda doesn’t exist, I much prefer his bumbling, lazy-eyed incarnation to his not-quite-right CGI manifestation. Sure, I enjoyed his throwdown with Dooku as much as anybody, but in a way it broke my heart. That sort of thing seemed beneath the Yoda of Empire. Yoda didn’t whip out a lightsaber to awe young Luke. No, he closed his eyes, raised his hand and lifted Luke’s X-Wing out of the moat. While people cheered for Yoda’s lightsaber reveal, one was left speechless by his quiet display of power in Empire. I may be the only one who would prefer to be awed than cheaply thrilled.

Yoda’s goofy introduction to the Star Wars universe also forced me to consider the dramatic implications of the saga’s order. If Star Wars had been revealed to the public in chronological order, what would it mean for certain characters and most specifically, what would it mean for our feelings for the Jedi?

For me, the major difference between the Original Trilogy and the Prequel Trilogy lies with the Jedi. The Original Trilogy did not belong to the Jedi. Luke is a revolutionary, truly his father’s son. He puts aside his Jedi training when he learns his friends may be in trouble. The Jedi Council would have frowned upon such brash and emotional actions. We can see Yoda and Obi-Wan battling with their old school values, the ones that eventually caused the downfall of the Jedi. In Return of the Jedi, when Yoda tells Luke “No more training do you require” we can see that the teaching he once used is outdated. The destruction of the Jedi Temple showed how arrogant and rigid the Jedi had been. And perhaps the heart that so defined Luke and Anakin may be the way the Jedi need to turn. It is clear that they still fear this revolution, but they relent with nothing but faith and hope to guide them. This is not the philosophy of the Jedi in the prequels. In a way, they are fundamentalists, literalists, purists to a religion that has yet to show its flaws. The original trilogy has been trumpeted for its new age spiritualism, but I would argue that the prequels are a cautionary tale about what happens when one believes in the infallibility of one’s faith. I’ll expand on this when I get to those films.

At about the time that Yoda pulled Luke’s X-Wing from the water, I stopped taking notes. I just watched. The laptop stayed on my lap. I was prepared to take notes. I just didn’t. For the first time in my life, I got to absorb The Empire Strikes Back in all of its dark, punishing glory. Han Solo gets sent to Jabba in a nice carbon-wrapped package. Luke loses a hand just before his entire worldview is crushed. And once again I wish that I could have seen this film for the first time when I was old enough to have the wind taken out of me by those fateful words “I am your father.” But if surprise is lacking, at least I can now fully appreciate the scope of this story like never before. Vader’s identity means more now that we can look back and see the long history that lead up to that earth-shattering moment. It is powerful stuff. Pretty impressive for “pop entertainment.”

Most impressive.

Final Grade for The Empire Strikes Back: A+