Star Wars: The Phantom Menace

So here’s the thing. I talk. A lot. I opine. I debate. I both entertain and irritate with my clever diatribes. Topic rarely matters to me; I have something to say about most everything. Most times my comments are carefully considered, studied, and crafted – comments that do not cause me to wince moments later.

But there are occasions, however rare, where my observations and opinions bypass my mouth and escape into the world through that puckered place on my backside. I’ve let slip some monstrously dumb remarks over the years. Very often these comments will aggravate me for a considerable time. That itch will recede only when I’m convinced my brain holds exclusive rights to the memory of my egregious stupidity.

I treat my writing differently though. As carefully as I construct the majority of my essays and articles, there is no excuse for any of my writing to ever border on foolishness (unless that is its intention).

Yet here I am, confronted with the sad reality that the first time my name found its way into a national publication, a genre film and TV magazine called Cinescape, it was to guarantee that Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace would be the greatest thing to hit the big screen in over twenty years. A month later, I submitted a similar essay to my hometown paper, the Rock Island Argus, on why Star Wars meant so much to me. By this time the film’s teaser trailer had dropped jaws nationwide, further bolstering my confidence in the film to come.

It’s interesting to watch how my anticipation for the Star Wars prequels has taken on changed as the films have been released. With Phantom Menace, I had nothing but confidence. By the time the trailers for Episode II premiered, I had downgraded that confidence to a reluctant hope. Now, on the eve of Revenge of the Sith, despite relatively positive reviews, I am overcome by severe trepidation.
Attack and Revenge will get their due. Let me first address the return, after 16 years, to that galaxy far, far away. In order to get proper perspective on what the return of Star Wars meant, I watched the trailers before I sat down for the entire film. The hype that preceded Phantom cannot be ignored.

It was weird watching the teaser trailer and recalling how awestruck I was when I first saw it. Even though many of its images have been spoiled by the film’s weak script, I still remember their initial impact. That first hazy shot of the Gungans riding to war. John Williams’s opening chords striking with all its historic gusto as we drop into the seat of Anakin’s podracer. And who can forget the first time we saw Darth Maul’s painted mug and two-sided lightsaber?

I had this trailer on my desktop for months as I tried to advance my Quicktime copy a frame at a time to extract whatever kernels of story I could. I leaned in close to my computer screen, examining meticulously several times a day. Each frame exploded with dazzling, near overwhelming visuals. And all of it was so new. There was no context for a podracer or the droid starships that walked straight out of The War of the Worlds. Everything was mystical. Everything was fantastic. Hell, even the sparse dialogue in the trailer worked. The final theatrical trailer ended with Darth Sidious growling an order to “Wipe them out. All of them.” How grand! And Obi-Wan’s passionate “Noooo!” as a dizzying array of rapid-fire shots bombard our eyes. How exquisite! These were masterful previews.

So, the trailers sat at our fingertips for infinite viewings and the wait began. I finished up the last semester of my freshman year in college while finding time to write two regrettably naive e-mails to Cinescape and the Argus. As May 19th approached, the hype hit unprecedented levels. The pathetically dedicated masses outside theaters began to reek like the living dead, many of them further embarrassing themselves with improvised lightsaber battles. The barrage of merchandise was slurped up by eager young Jedi (and many not so young). And clips and previews became more plentiful.

With all of this fanfare, I became concerned about getting tickets. It was paramount that I attend the midnight show. Waiting an entire evening to see the first new Star Wars film in 16 years seemed like heresy. Who calls themselves a fan and sits at home for the maiden screening? The increasingly large party who wished to accompany me made the quest for tickets much more urgent. Star Wars resided in the hearts of not just me, but my entire family. So, it would be me, my brother, mom, and dad (we’d force him, pardon the pun), and my best friend Steve (Episode I debuted on his birthday) burning the midnight oil on May 19.

But alas, some logistical issues needed to be worked out. I was stuck in Carbondale finishing up the school year during the prime ticket purchasing time. By May 19th, I would be home, but I did not want to cut it that close. I needed somebody to purchase tickets for me. My mother graciously volunteered to stop by the Showcase Cinemas and snag us some tickets for that first showing.

Sending her may have been a mistake. My next phone call home dealt me a tremendous shock.

“Ok. I got four tickets to the midnight show. Your dad won’t go to the midnight show.”

“Well, that’s –“

“So, I also got four tickets to the ten o’clock show the following morning. You can take him to that one. Plus, whoever else.”

“Ok, that should –“

“AND I got you four tickets to the seven o’clock show on Friday night.”

“I’m sorry. What now?”

Despite my mother’s extreme overzealousness, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the job she did. So, I thanked her for the tickets, and resigned myself to watching Episode I three times in its first 24 hours of release. It proved much more daunting than my back-to-back-to-back theatrical viewing of The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Now, I have a general philosophy about determining the quality of uber-hyped films, and though I can’t be certain of what exactly my mother was smoking when she bought all those tickets, it did play right into this philosophy. The optimum number of times a film must be seen before an informed testament can be made to its quality is three. The first viewing is mainly to deflate the balloon of expectation. When one considers the unprecedented level of hype leading up to The Phantom Menace, it would be nearly (note nearly) impossible for any film to live up to that.

So, the first viewing is to say “Ok, I’ve seen it.” Provided you were not horribly repulsed by the first viewing, the second viewing is so you can say “Ok, now I’ve watched it.” A proper opinion begins to take shape with this second run-through. Most often, if you left Viewing One questioning the quality of the film, Viewing Two will answer many of your questions. If you felt a bit letdown by Viewing One, chances are you will find yourself enjoying the second a bit more. The film will move considerably more speedily and if there is fun to be had in a film, it will really shine in the second go-round.

The third, and final, viewing may or may not be necessary. If you find that neither viewing met with a proper “Thumbs Up” you may discontinue your study of the film. A third viewing will not save a doomed film. However, if you ended up with either a Thumbs Up and a Thumbs Down, or a Thumbs Up and an “Eh,” one final viewing is in order.

I first noticed this pattern with Titanic. I saw Titanic opening weekend with a good friend and my girlfriend, and I found the film inexcusably melodramatic and insufferably boring up until the ship began to sink. How Star Wars can get savaged by critics for its dialogue Titanic was lauded with its mercilessly unconvincing romantic storyline is beyond me. But I digress.

The second time I went to Titanic it was with a new girlfriend (yea, this was the one month in high school I found myself trapped in a playa’s world). On my way to the theater I had backed into a friend’s car with the family minivan, so I was bedraggled by shame and embarrassment as I watched the film slumped in my seat with my hand on my forehead. Even with my pissy attitude, I couldn’t help but notice the film played much better upon the second viewing. It moved a good deal quicker without the anticipation of the impending disaster, and the memories of my first dreadful experience with the film somehow felt unjustified.

So, with one thumb up and one thumb down I watched the film for the third and final time when I purchased it on DVD. After starting on the negative side and swinging to a moderate but sincere positive, the third viewing decided it for me.

The film is dreadful. It’s so many degrees of awful I struggle to understand how it remains the highest grossing movie in history. It is very nearly the most overhyped asswipe ever put on celluloid (The Passion of the Christ will likely wear that Crown of Thorns for eternity). It took three passes, but I eventually landed on an opinion I feel quite confident about.

My experience with The Phantom Menace would be similar in some respects and quite different in others. The course of opinion through the three viewings worked very much the same way. The main difference was the time frame. My three viewings of Titanic took place over the course of at least a year, but I would see The Phantom Menace three times within 24 hours. That makes forming an opinion a fairly unique experience.

Most of my memories of that first showing come in brief snippets. I’m certain there were costumes amongst the patrons; a few lightsabers without question. I specifically recall a shoddy, white-trash Boba Fett. As far as the film goes, I remember taking particular delight in Qui-Gonn’s ingenious use of lightsaber as lockpick/smelter. Aside from Jar-Jar’s incessant squealing, I loved the mammoth creatures inhabiting the planet core. And the angry flurry between Obi-Wan and Darth Maul, shot mainly in long-shot, remains unmatched in the entire series. I specifically recall turning to Steve and offering my eloquent appraisal of the exchange:

“Holy shit.”

The film ended to applause and my family and friends returned home just before 3. We hopped into bed to get a few hours sleep before we would return for round two. I spoke enthusiastically of many moments in the film, but I couldn’t hide the flat feeling the film had left me with. I couldn’t say what it was specifically. I knew the presence of poor Jake Lloyd irked me, especially trying to prop up the ridiculous midichlorian idea (does this concept remind anyone else of scientology?). But I hold no ill will towards that poor child who probably killed his acting career with a shockingly thankless role that should have been a sure thing. I found myself rendered indifferent to Natalie Portman, one of my most bewitching and enduring crushes (I cannot understate how horrifying that was). Of course, since we had two more chances to experience this film, my family and I dismissed the cracks we felt forming in our favorite franchise, focusing instead on those things we enjoyed.

The undeniable adrenaline of seeing a new Star Wars movie kept us up longer than we would have liked, and with less than four hours sleep under our belts Steve and I (along with both of our fathers and I believe my mother) returned to the theater for round two. We got there early (I’m a freak about sitting in good seats) and already found a healthy line snaking down the handicap ramp. We took our place in line and chatted with those around us.

Coincidentally, a smallish, twerp of a man whose face I found strikingly familiar crawled up in line behind us. After a moment, I realized who it was: Sean Leary, the editor of the Life section of the Rock Island Argus, the man who quoted me in his Star Wars feature article. I introduced myself and he offered an indifferent handshake. I carried a worthless conversation for a few moments before a redneck in a beaten-down dodge pick-up screamed “Star Wars sucks!” out his window.

“Nice car,” I yelled back, to the approval of the masses. Not one of my best retorts, pretty weak actually, but the crowd appreciated it.

The comment rescued me from my conversation with Leary, a deluded snob who clearly felt he was debasing himself by waiting in line for a Star Wars film. William Forsythe is the only other man who ever stared at me with such contempt (yes that was a gratuitous name-drop, but I’m still tickled that Flat Top from Dick Tracy looked like he wanted to rip my throat out), and at least he had reasonable justification for it. Leary on the other hand, was just a prick.

Even with my lack of sleep, the second trip through The Phantom Menace was much more enjoyable. Of course, I tend to get a little flighty when I’ve had little sleep (it’s why I don’t make major decisions after midnight), so the absurd use of scatology in a Star Wars movie may have struck a chord with me that morning that it wouldn’t have otherwise. I honestly can’t say for certain. But I can attest that I enjoyed the film much more the second time, once the burden of hype had been negated.

The final viewing in our ludicrous triple-header was like an out-of-body experience. The adrenaline that preserved us through the morning showing did not last till our final showing at seven. By the time the opening scroll hit the screen, I thought I was in a different world, and not in that good, escapist way. The lasers. The explosions. The LIGHTsabers. Oh man. It was as close to a bad acid trip as I have ever been on. I didn’t see the film so much as experience it. Usually that’s a good thing. Here, it was just… whoa baby. My head was like a helium balloon with sprinkles.

So, I have to take out this third Phantom Menace in my rule of three. It can’t count considering I probably thought I was Yoda by the end of the film. Instead, we’re going to rely on my most recent viewing of the DVD for my deciding verdict.

The upcoming write-up of Attack of the Clones (I’ve watched it again, too) is largely going to be a comparison between that film and The Phantom Menace, but I’m going to preview it here. Once again I found myself startled by an unexpected revelation. Though it seemed to please more fans and critics than its predecessor, Attack of the Clones is the worst film in the Star Wars canon (holding out hope for Episode III). All of the weaknesses of The Phantom Menace are multiplied many times over in Clones with none of the hidden gems that can be found in Phantom. Granted, the good may be hard to find in Episode I, but I’m going to do my best to enlighten those of you who are still bitter about it.

I think any review of The Phantom Menace must start in one particular spot: Jar Jar Binks. I’m going to take an unusual position here and speak in defense of that floppy-eared doofus. If anything is lacking from the prequels it is character. The majority of the placeholders in Lucas’ universe do very little to distinguish themselves from each other. They’re not well-rounded characters. They speak the same. Their mannerisms are similar. They’re cardboard cut-outs that aren’t even full-figured; Lucas gave them all the same body and cut-and-paste the heads on. At least with Jar Jar, he benefits from having a unique character. Is he annoying? Of course, but that’s who he is. Look at the rest of the Gungans. They have the same reaction to Jar Jar as we do. That should say something about dramatic consistency and consistency of character, even if it’s the consistency of nails on a chalkboard.

Character remains the biggest impediment to (non-certifiable) die-hards embracing the prequels. Not a single character immediately endears themselves to us like Luke did with his passionate idealism, or Leia did with her sass (in her first bit of dialogue she mouths off to Darth Vader!), or Han did with his charming shit-grin. Qui-Gonn and Obi-Wan are sipping tea within five minutes of their introduction. Natalie Portman debuts in a completely impractical costume looking like she just got her spine fused. I mean Yoda never looked that stiff in Empire and he had a hand up his ass. Thanks to the weakness of Lucas’s dialogue and the inherent limitations of child actors’, I’m walking into Episode III still looking for the character of Anakin Skywalker to draw me in.

But my biggest disappointment with the sequels remains the Jedi. In my youth, every kid wanted to be a Jedi. They had the cool powers. They got the lightsabers. They were badasses. The prequels have all but convinced me that this is completely false. The Jedi have no heart in these films. Love, attachment, and passion are taboo, sacrificed at the altar of this arbitrary “good” that they supposedly serve. The Jedi are rigid automatons who blindly adhere to some generic code of chivalry that essentially removes their humanity. With a few exceptions, I felt a stronger draw to the Goberfish in the planet core than I did any of the Jedi.

But there are exceptions. Since Qui-Gonn Jinn has no direct ties to the original trilogy, Liam Neeson’s performance was sadly overlooked. This is not Oscar caliber work. It can’t be with what Neeson was given to work with. But it’s clear that it is the work of an Oscar-caliber actor. Neeson does nothing flashy as the Jedi Master, but manages to eek out sly and amusing moments out of dry and banal situations. His frustrated attempt to use his Jedi powers on Watto is actually quite funny, and Neeson does so little to earn a chuckle. When he realizes he’s in a pickle, he merely flashes a rueful smile and leaves. Small moment, but it showed the hints of personality that all of the Jedi should have been able to project. The most impressive moment came during the duel with Darth Maul, when a red force field separated the two combatants. With this fiendish assailant on the other side, scowling and pacing, Qui-Gonn puts his lightsaber away and kneels. After a moment’s glace, he closes his eyes to meditate. This is Jedi badass in all of its glory, and it came not through clashing of lightsabers or invisible force powers. It came in a half-second glance that Qui-Gonn gave Maul before he closed his eyes. The glance spoke plainly: “I don’t sweat you for a second.”

There is an underlying vibe that Qui-Gonn is a bit of a rebel, but they really don’t play it up as much as they could have. After the council rejects Anakin as a potential Jedi, Obi-Wan pleads with Qui-Gonn not to “defy the council again.” One need only look at his dealings on Tattooine to see that he didn’t mind working in a questionable environment (gambling for parts and such). He clearly had more in common with Luke’s revolutionary Jedi than Mace Windu and his group of elitist tightasses. I loved Qui-Gonn during this recent viewing. I don’t know how Neeson projected confident cool while the rest of the Jedi seemed to be going for snobby aloofness – his character did not seem to be written much different – but he was one Jedi in the prequels who I wouldn’t mind being. Sadly, I didn’t think the pickings would be so slim.

I wish that Qui-Gonn would have stuck around just a bit longer, if only to preserve a much more interesting characterization of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Many complained that Obi-Wan got short shrift in Episode I, but I found him lightyears more interesting under Qui-Gonn’s wing than after his ascension to the ranks of Jedi Master. After the stiff Jedi in Phantom Menace got even stiffer in Clones, I relished returning to Ewan McGregor’s youthful and brash Obi-Wan. There’s a horrible joke after the two Jedi are ambushed at the beginning of the film where Obi-Wan turns to his master and says “Well, you were right about one thing, Master. The negotiations were short.” Sure the joke sucks, but look at McGregor’s face. Obi-Wan is clearly a Jedi who loves this adventure shit.

McGregor saves one of the major characters of the franchise, Obi-Wan Kenobi, with his performance. He’s allowed to be young and arrogant and (oh no! Jedi code!) passionate, before things get all serious in Episode II. Watch Kenobi in his first moments with Jar Jar. They’re not particularly funny, not witty per se, but I find them wonderfully amusing. Upon first seeing the Gungan he asks, dryly “What’s this?” He then proceeds to torture the creature with details of the upcoming threat: “If they find catch us, they’ll blast us into a thousand pieces.” McGregor steps into Jar Jar, joyously needling the dimwit. But by far my favorite line in Episode I comes on the desert of Tattooine, when Qui-Gonn heads back to the town to Kenobi’s weary response: “Why do I get the feeling we’ve picked up another pathetic lifeform?” Again, it’s not the line, but McGregor’s dry, cocky delivery. In Episode I, Lucas seemed to show that the Jedi did not trade in their personality for their lightsabers. Sure, nobody in the film was half the smartass Han was Solo, but that wouldn’t have been in their character anyway. However dry, Qui-Gonn and Obi-Wan both showed a keen sense of humor that Lucas painfully extracted from the “improved” script of Attack of the Clones.

By far the most interesting characters, from a creative point-of-view, were Natalie Portman’s Padme and her regal alter-ego Queen Amidala. I separate these two characters because Lucas wrote them so differently; one apparently had human characteristics, while the other merely replicated them. Queen Amidala must be considered one of the worst written characters in the history of film. Why do I say this? Because Amidala didn’t just make Natalie Portman uninteresting. She also made Keira Knightley, one of today’s fiercest, sexiest film sirens uninteresting. For those who were not aware, Keira Knightley played Amidala whenever Portman was playing Padme. So that’s two of my generation’s most charismatic actresses that could do absolutely nothing to humanize what basically equated to a walking lampshade.

This wouldn’t be so glaring if Portman didn’t somehow find a way to make her “handmaiden” Padme interesting. Her interactions with Qui-Gonn, who is unaware of her royal status, have an amusing undercurrent as the Jedi orchestrates risky and “reckless” ventures to escape their predicament. Padme clearly disapproves, but the secret of her identity won’t allow her to enforce her wishes. Her graceless frustration is inconsistent with the stoicism of Amidala, but the character shift didn’t bother me because I did a tremendous job of blocking out the queen’s existence.

Perhaps I’ve trained myself to do that with much of this film. I certainly enjoyed this film more than I did previously. I may be fishing for these pleasant things in the performances, but I don’t think I’m hunting as hard as many of you may believe. Make no mistake. These parts were horribly written, but at least this film was fresh for its actors. The enthusiasm is clear. Next time you watch the film, pay close attention Neeson’s quiet, rebellious humor. Check out McGregor’s flippant attitude towards all the drama. Give Padme a look and ignore Amidala. There’s good stuff here, if we can put our disappointment behind us.

I know. Some of you think I’m becoming a prequel apologist. Not so, I say. Wait till you see what I do to Attack of the Clones.

Final Grade for The Phantom Menace: B-