Wednesday, September 21, 2011

THE BIG CON


Whether it was the will of the Force or not, a day or so before Dragoncon, the "Nooo" Blu-Ray controversy erupted across the internet. I'm sure everyone privy to this can understand my growing trepidation.

In Atlanta, GA, Dragoncon takes place every Labor Day weekend. The biggest con in the Southeast, it is a unique four day adventure, a sublime descent into perpetual fandom. Awesome celebrities, brilliant costumes, fascinating panels, homemade robots, author readings, avant garde musicians, wallet-breaking dealer rooms, and about sixty thousand fans make up the spine of the convention.

Words always abandon me when it comes to capturing the true essence of Dragoncon. Perhaps a friend summed it up best when he described it as Halloween, Christmas, and New Year's Eve, all rolled into one. It is a time of ecstatic, fan-driven revelry, because in this case, the geeks truly inherit the Earth. For four days anyway.

So naturally I was concerned. As a Star Wars fan, I didn't want my highly-anticipated weekend to dissolve into a bitch-and-moan fest about new changes to the "holy trilogy" and the ruined childhoods that inevitably followed. Fandom had just turned a corner, too, right before lapsing back into its all too familiar, bipolar habits.

Still, I needn't have worried. After getting my con badge in record time thanks to a co-worker in line (good job, Todd) and a new scanning system, I made my way from the Sheraton down to the Hilton. Already, costumed characters were deftly navigating increasingly crowded sidewalks with the practiced ease of veteran con-goers. There was a tangible excitement growing in the air, as though the city itself were anxiously waiting for the geek-inspired madness to finally erupt.

Appropriately, I saw an astromech droid beeping and whirring in the middle of a crowd of excited families the moment I stepped out of the Atlanta heat and into the merciful cool of the Hilton lobby. And not just any astromech droid, but the astromech droid. A fully-functioning, lovingly-crafted R2-D2 was winning considerable attention, with male and female, young and old, all eagerly posing to have their picture taken with him.

This is Star Wars, I thought to myself, breathing a silent sigh of relief. No angry internet posts, no ponderous petitions, no grumbling and complaining. No matter their age, everyone was six years old again and grinning from ear to ear. 

This was the real magic of the saga, no matter how lost in the shuffle it might get sometimes. The moment was brilliant in its genuiness and sincerity, and as fresh and spontaneous as it was that long ago summer of 1977. And I then knew, if I didn't already, that this power as intangible as the Force itself was never going away, despite all the anonymous legions of critics and second-guessers.

I have to admit, as I lined up for my own photo of R2, I had a nostalgic Fanboys moment, one that Dragoncon always promised and rarely failed to deliver.

We're home, boys.

Not too surprisingly, when I arrived with my crew the next day, my second panel was a Star Wars one in the Hyatt. And what a Wars panel to jumpstart the weekend with, featuring the likes of the gargantuan Peter Mayhew, who played Chewbacca in four of the films; Ashley Eckstein, the voice of Ahsoka Tano in the Clone Wars; and Tom Kane, who famously voices Yoda but also a plethora of others. As usual, they were all as talented, gracious, and funny as any fan could have asked for.

Unfortunately, I was a tad late, having yet to find my con-footing in the now five hotels that play host to the event. As a ten year veteran, I have very little excuse on that front, no matter the width and breadth of the endless ballrooms and conference suites begging to be investigated. I snagged a decent seat, though I was proud to see there was barely standing room before it was all over. As I said, the Wars just aren't going away.

It was also gratifying to hear Tom and Ashley saying early on that they personally loved all the films, and they were all Star Wars. Even better was the resounding applause this elicited from the Force-inspired audience. It nicely cleansed the palate after days of online moaning over the Blu-Ray edition.

Early on, Ashley expressed my own feelings again, remarking how great the saga was going to be once the Clone Wars were complete, and the whole canon could be watched in its entirety. This right before a little kid bravely stepped up to the microphone and asked her how dirty Ahsoka got while fighting those "lizards" in the season three finale.

I should point out another boy stepped up to the plate not long after to make sure they knew the correct species name was "Trandoshan." Perhaps another Leland Chee of the Holocron fame in the making?

Anyway, I should also point out how great these actors were with the real fans inheriting the Force, namely the kids. It must have been awesome to be in the same room with Ahsoka, Yoda, and Chewbacca at such a young age. My mind probably would have overheated like an excited radiator. Quite frankly, it still did, especially when Tom Kane broke out the Yoda voice, a voice poignantly recognizable and pregnant with mythic resonance.

Ashley assured the first boy that her on-screen persona did indeed get "very" dirty during her ordeal, answering with that sweet sincerity that could be her tradework. Since Chewbacca made his animated debut in those episodes, Tom assured the audience that at least she didn't need as much shampoo as her Wookiee companion, to which the iconic Peter Mayhew agreed. "You should see the water bill."

After deftly fielding the inevitable "How does Ahsoka die?" question, Ashley was really put on the spot when a little girl asked her who Anakin cared the most about, Ahsoka or R2-D2. Ashley admitted to being biased but, as it turns out, her own personal favorite is R2. Tom sensibly added that surely Anakin has a "backup for R2 on a harddrive somewhere." 

Ashley also expressed interest in another team-up between Ahsoka and Barriss Offee, clearly enjoying that dynamic as much as the fans.

But it was all fun. One of the highlights of panel was Ashley harkening back to another acting job, that of Jan Brady in The Brady Bunch television movie. She expertly and colorfully paraphrased that character's catchphrase: "Yoda, Yoda, Yoda!"

Speaking of the little green master, Tom admitted a lot of the work he's done with the character has come from his own insight and understanding. After all, he's done twenty times more Yoda than Frank Oz now, much of which has no frame of reference or template at all.

He also spoke of his other characters, including the Narrator voice which gives the classic vibe of an old-time radio announcer before every episode. While he missed the opening crawl in the Clone Wars movie, he thought it worked very well on television, which is true enough. 

Then he proclaimed the role of the Narrator as "small but very important," giving the same great inflection that the announcer does, much to the delight of the audience.

His other most well-known character is of course Yularin, who Tom is very interested in, particularly his rise to the admiral we see in the Death Star. "As a fan, I want to know," Tom remarked, right as an ice cream truck or something started backing up next to the exit door I was camped out by. 

Over the dull blare of the noise, I did notice that Tom used the word "mindful" to describe his awareness of all the talented people who can do Yoda's voice, so key points for that.

By the time the truck outside had apparently slid into a parking place, Ashley recounted a story about her nieces and nephews. With her impressive Star Wars credentials, it's become an issue over who gets to sit next to her at dinner, which she described as providing some nice bonding moments. 

Seriously, can you imagine being a kid and having Ahsoka for an aunt? 

Anyway, she also admitted to having showrunner Dave Filoni on speed-dial to ensure she doesn't give any secrets away when she's being needled for questions, which probably isn't a bad idea.

After another round of questions regarding everyone's favorite Clone Wars episodes, the topic invariably turned to the end of season three. Peter Mayhew spoke a little about his original stint on Star Wars, emphasizing that it was so important that it was "his own eyes seen on screen." Given the furry Wookiee costume, that was about all he had to work with.

Everyone was happy to learn Peter actually went to Skywalker Ranch to ensure the animators got the look and walk of Chewbacca just perfect. "It was a labor of love to get the hair and everything right," he said. It was indeed and, as always, it showed on screen.

Arguably the best moment came when a fan asked the three stars who they thought shot first in the cantina, Han Solo or Greedo. Tom sided with Han, Ashely opted out, but Peter had the best reply to that burning question which has kept fanboys up at night for the past fourteen years.

"I didn't see," he deadpanned, thinking back to that long ago cantina. "I was too busy finishing my drink."


Of course, no Dragoncon would be complete without a visit to the Hall of Fame, that huge set of banquet rooms on the upper floor of the Hilton that is lined with row after row of tables. Stationed behind said tables are all the sci-fi and fantasy celebrities hosted by the con, with autograph hounds and picture seekers alike continuously winding around them.

The Hall of Fame is where I'd first seen David Prowse, the original Darth Vader, and met the always awesome Ray Park, who portrayed the high-kicking, devil-faced Darth Maul. It was a good scene for Darths, though no Sith Lords were on my agenda that day. First up was a bounty hunter. With deference to his son Boba, perhaps the bounty hunter.

While boasting no helmeted armor that afternoon, Jango Fett was nonetheless towards the back of the hall, live and in person.

"Hi, I'm Paul," I cleverly said, stepping up to the table with hand extended. Already standing, the New Zealand-born Temuera Morrison gave me an appropriately strong handshake, as one might expect from the man who played one of the baddest bounty hunters in the galaxy. "Nice to meet you, Paul."

It didn't surprise me to learn later on that Morrison was in fact the voice of Air New Zealand. The guy has a really great accent, on-screen and in-person. Of course, I can't recall a lot of the conversation, because one does get a little star-struck at these things. The first time I met Peter Mayhew, I had an almost five minute conversation with him. While I'm told I acquitted myself quite well, to this day I can barely remember a word.

I do recall Morrison and I briefly chatting about Daniel Logan, who of course played his son in the film. While I didn't meet him, I did see him at a panel last year. Funny and gregarious, Daniel regaled us with behind-the-scenes comedy, including the times he had to pull a fully-costumed Morrison out of the Lazy-Boy chair in his room because he couldn't stand up. 

All the armored duds may be very impressive onscreen, but one good push in reality and even Vader would be on his back like a helpless turtle.

"It's great that both of you have made an appearance here," I remarked, as I picked out a nifty photo for an autograph. 

"Daniel's a great kid," Morrison acknowledged, signing the pic with gusto. 

"Yeah, if only we could bring him out of his shell," I joked, gratefully getting my autograph.

Of course, I had something for him, too. As a Star Wars scholar and essayist extraordinaire (or so I tell myself), I had made a point to compose a few pages on the characters brought to life by several of the actors in attendance. Slipping him a folder, I watched him flip through my Jango Fett analysis ("Father of the Hunt" for the curious, which will inevitably debut somewhere). 

"Thanks," Morrison said with a quick, Jango-esque nod. "I need you guys to keep me informed about all this. You all know more about him than I do."

Next stop in the Hall of Fame was down in the left hand corner of the busy room, with a couple of tables reserved for the voice cast of the Clone Wars. As the Force would have it, both Ahsoka and Yoda were there, and I managed to grab a moment with the latter at a rare time when the crowds were down. 

The great Tom Kane was sitting there, looking as wise and alert as the master he brings to life every week. He was also wearing a fantastic baseball jersey shirt with one simple word inscribed across it: Jedi.

After getting the requisite introductions out of the way, I firmly shook his hand. "You know, the Clone Wars cast is not simply talented," I began, making sure I had his eye, "But you guys are some of the best ambassadors Star Wars fans could hope for." 

He accepted the compliment graciously, and I think he could tell I meant it. I would tell Ashley the same thing, earnestly trying to convey just how much their contributions to Star Wars have been appreciated, not to mention their accessibility with the fans.

We talked for a few minutes, the conversation soon turning back into what the Wars meant to us. As he'd said earlier, the often derided prequels were as much Star Wars to him as the originals, and I obviously feel the same way. As do most of us, I think.

"And now with the Clone Wars, we're on our third generation of fans," I pointed out, selecting a groovy Yoda pic for him to sign. "I sometimes feel I was the perfect age for the original trilogy, and the perfect age for the prequels." 

Taking my photo, I mentioned how The Phantom Menace had debuted during the summer I was starting my last year of college. As an English major, I'd spent years learning how to analyze stories and interpret poetry and, while not the most marketable skill, it magnified my appreciation of George Lucas and Star Wars a hundredfold.

Never one to pass up a good segue, I likewise presented him with an essay of mine on the first episode of the animated series, Ambush. It analyzed Yoda's adventure with some allusions to Eastern philosophy, and here's hoping he enjoys it. Called "How a Jedi Makes War," it will hopefully appear as a Forcecast editorial in the next month or so. 

Tom thanked me for it and we shook hands again. He also whipped out his Yoda voice on me with the effortless ease of a master, but I was so geeked out I have no idea what he actually said.

By this time, the crowd around Ashley a table over was finally thinning. I'd been fortunate enough to meet her the year before but, predictably, I had another essay in my bookbag. This one can be read online, as it chronicled the season two episode Lightsaber Lost

I'd remarked to her last time how much I'd enjoyed it. I recall she'd gotten a telling sparkle in her eye then, saying, "Wait till you see some of the episodes next season." Now I know that was inspired by the landmark Mortis trilogy, her favorite.

When I finally stepped up to the table, Ashley was readying to leave. "I'm already late for an interview," she explained, kindly offering a quick autograph. 

Since I wanted a moment to actually talk to her, I elected to let a few kids see her instead. It's amazing, but even in a hurry, she was all attentive and generous with her time.

I used my own time wisely until she said she was scheduled to come back. After grabbing something to eat in the food court, I wondered back to the Hilton. Her Universe, Ashley's sci-fi fashion line for women, had set up shop outside the Hall of Fame. After checking out the unique design of the shirts, I went back in and stole a moment with Peter Mayhew.

"I already have your autograph, but I just wanted to tell you how moving Chewbacca's return was in the Clone Wars," I told him, adding, "I didn't expect it to have such emotional resonance for me." 

With his Wookiee-like mane of graying hair, Peter smiled. "It was done right." We talked a few moments and then I got to shake his hand, too. Incidentally, if any of you out there haven't shaken Peter's hand, it's quite an experience. It swallowed my own, easily twice it's size. Just the way it should be.

When Ashley came back around, I remembered her interview with the Force.net correspondent that showed up online last con. 

"So was it with Mandy B?" I asked, establishing a little in-fandom knowledge. The ever sweet and lovely Ashley shook her head. "Nope, I don't have anything lined up with Mandy this year."

To be honest, I wanted to talk to Ashley in particular. Last year, I was once again readying myself to set sail on the sometimes turbulent seas of Star Wars fandom. After the epic Revenge of the Sith, my energy and enthusiasm for the Wars was admittedly waning a bit. Especially after all the interminable infighting about the prequels. 

Or at least it was until the Clone Wars, not to mention this other little show called the Forcecast. When I mentioned the two hosts, Jason and Jimmy Mac, Ashley's own enthusiasm grew.

"Those guys," she said simply, "Are awesome."

"I wouldn't go that far," I replied, only of course I didn't. I joke. Naturally, I agreed wholeheartedly. I took a minute to thank her for all her appearances on the show, telling her just how much we listeners appreciated it. 

"We didn't have that with the prequels, much less with the originals," I remarked, thinking back to those days when three month old interviews in Starlog magazine were the closest thing to interaction we had with our on-screen heroes.

Recounting what I'd told Tom about my experiences with The Phantom Menace in college, I reminded her of my eagerness to get back to writing about that galaxy far, far away. Since we'd last spoken, I'd taken to mainline fandom again, producing any number of works on my own blog as well as for the Forcecast editorials project

I informed her I had enough material for a book or two now (more on that in Part 2), and it all really started again with the republication of my old The Case for Jar Jar essay courtesy of Jimmy Mac.

Presenting her with my Slower and Less Intense essay on Tera Sinube, I assured her it was her own copy. There was maybe a split second with everyone where they all wondered if I expected them to read my stuff then and there. I joked about them having to read it on the spot but no, I at least had the foresight to print out copies ahead of time.

"Well, I do like to ramble sometimes," I admitted, as if anyone reading this hadn't noticed. "But if you ever get really bored, I hope you enjoy reading it."

"Oh, I'll definitely read it," Ashley replied with sincere interest, even adding, "Have you ever done anything on the Mortis trilogy? I would love to read something on that, too." 

I had to shake my head. "Well, I've made a few notes, but nothing dissertation-worthy, yet." However, I promise to work on that in case she comes back with Her Universe next year.

Unable to resist another autograph, I asked her for a picture as well. She graciously agreed, though one of the perils of having a significant other as well as friends who all work for the Atlanta Radio Theater Company is that one often traverses Dragoncon alone. 

This means cameras have to be passed off to willing photographers in line. While I am grateful I got a shot, I would have appreciated if the amateur photographer had waited for me to look ahead and smile after fielding a question about my camera.

From the looks of things, that was just too much to ask. Great one of Ash, though.



Join me for Part Two, in which:
Princess Leia swears like a sailor;
Shards of Alderaan are discovered;
And I get hugged by a Wookiee.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Just Say No

 

Each Man is in His Spectre’s Power
Until the arrival of that hour,
When his humanity awake,
And cast his Spectre into the lake.

-        William Blake

Perhaps it’s fitting that William Blake and Star Wars offer up so many interesting parallels. 

After all, Blake really was the first visionary poet to create his own mythology, to offer up an idiomatic stamp on the collective unconscious. It isn’t too much to say that he set in motion what Joseph Campbell called the “Age of Creative Mythology,” where the artist is no longer working within the confines of a socially-accepted mythology, but rather creating his own. Regardless, there are certain points in Anakin Skywalker’s journey that I can only define as Blakean, and these lines from Jerusalem echo throughout the climactic scene in Return of the Jedi when the Emperor is finally cast down a reactor shaft.

Of course, no one wants to read about this sort of thing. We all know by now that a simple, one syllable word has been inserted, not once, but twice into this pivotal moment in the Blu-Ray release of the saga. As usual, childhoods have been raped, lives have been ruined, and the internet is an indignant, vengeful pit of fury and anguish. Incidentally, it would be nice to belong to a fandom that doesn’t have a collective meltdown every year, but that’s not the case here. Anyway, before I put together a post chronicling my wacky adventures at Dragoncon, I felt the entire interweb would be holding it’s breath until I chimed in on the “Nooooo” controversy. So I’m providing just what we need – the 90,587,435th online commentary on the subject.

My two cents on the changes are pretty straightforward. No surprise, I think George Lucas, as the living artist, can do anything he wants to his work. I will also agree with Peter Mayhew (aka Chewbacca) at Dragoncon that ninety percent of the changes are for the better. The only change I have a real problem with is the Greedo-shooting-first fiasco, which is by far the most grievous misstep Lucasfilm has made thus far. Everything else, from the updated space battle in Hope, to the fabulously expanded Cloud City in Empire, and even the more alien Sarlaac Pit in Jedi, works just fine. Hayden Christenson looks a little out of place as a Force ghost at the end, but it makes as much sense to put him in that scene as it does a non-burnt, eyebrow-sporting Sebastian Shaw.

As for the new changes, I love Ewoks, as most of you probably know. And they even blink, now? Perfect. I like the new Krayt dragon shriek courtesy of Obi-Wan Kenobi (and Matt Wood). In my opinion, it sounds much more akin to a sound a human would make. And as for the Dug in Jabba’s Palace … look, I totally dig the Dug. One of the cooler alien designs out of Episode One. But the deal-breaker for most was clearly the “Nooooo” uttered up by Vader when striking down the Emperor with righteous fury.

I love that original scene. LOVE it. I think it’s every bit as powerful as the “Luke, I am your father” scene in Empire. It’s not only one of the classics of cinema, it is the climax of the entire six film saga. If you’re not cheering when Palpatine takes a nosedive down that shaft after all we know about him from the prequels, time to get that midichlorian count checked. Honestly, it was perfect, just the way it was. No tweaking necessary. Yes, I think it was something of a misstep. The scene played out so well with Vader’s silent, brooding glances doled out equally between his enraged master and his pleading son.

Having said that, I can safely confirm that my childhood is safely intact. Not only that, but free from any form of molestation. Quite honestly, George Lucas was one of the few things holding my childhood together in the first place so I, unlike everyone else in my broken-family generation apparently, feel as though I still owe him. I want to take this opportunity to point this out.

I also want to call out the hundreds of online commentators who are now claiming they have an artistic license to Star Wars because they helped “fund” Lucas’ empire. This is really amazing. Sometimes you guys just out-do yourselves. This may come as a shock, but when you were watching these movies over and over again as children, you weren’t making future investments. You weren’t purchasing stock in Lucasfilm. No matter how much money you shelled out on Empire merchandise, it in no way, shape, or form gives you the right to dictate artistic policy thirty years later. 

You bought a toy back then? Okay, you got a toy. You saved your grass-cutting money to go buy a ticket to see A New Hope again? Okay, you got to see A New Hope again. Your grandparents gave you money for a Chewbacca t-shirt? Okay, you got a Chewbacca t-shirt.

End of story. Game over. Transaction complete.

As a creator myself, I have never suffered a moment’s delusion that I somehow own the Star Wars franchise. I sleep so much more soundly because it is so firm and fast in the bewildering mazes of my brain where that ownership lies. Sorry, the public is free to love or hate whatever they want, but the artist is absolutely and equally at liberty to create and recreate and recreate again in any and all ways they see fit.

That’s why interpretation is so important. That is something that the audience can do, and do well. I defer to none other than Jimmy Mac of the Forcecast for as an example.

Despite initial reservations, Jimmy delivered a great critical interpretation of why the change was made on last week’s show. He cited the return of the “Noooo” as emblematic of the return of Anakin Skywalker himself. If we follow that the last vestige of Anakin pretty much burned itself out during the (also derided) “Noooo” in Sith, it makes perfect sense for him to say the same thing again as he rises from the ashes. It echoes his scream over his dead wife, thus creating a nice poetic symmetry between the two trilogies. After all, his children were his last living link to Padme, and we all know what a fan of mirroring and parallels Lucas is.

As I myself wrote, if Star Wars is going to be myth, it’s also going to be poetry. This makes sense, and is exactly the kind of criticism Lucas has called for again and again (and rarely gotten). For the record, it is much better than the “Noooo” in Sith and, lest we forget, no one’s even seen it yet in context.

I am going to try really, really hard not to do a tailspin down the neverending chasm of fan arguments, because that’s not what this blog is really about. And the whole thing just goes around in really boring circles. I believe George Lucas owns Star Wars. Others believe they do because they bought a collector’s cup at Burger King thirty years ago. Whatever.

But no matter what the fanbase thinks of the changes, at least the argument that Lucas is now in this solely for the money can be laid to rest. Clearly, money is not the issue. Quite honestly, he can be applauded for continuing to care about his work, for at least having enough interest to tweak this, to try and improve that. He’s not just churning out product as-is for a quick buck. If the “green catcher’s mitt with eyes” (again Jimmy Mac) Yoda doesn’t work in Episode One, he’s going to take the time and money to craft a better, CGI one. And I personally can’t wait.

In my opinion, all the technological upgrades in the Special (and Specialer) Editions were great improvements. It’s always exciting to get new Star Wars, to see these watched and re-watched films with a slightly newer lens. As for the more controversial changes, Lucas sticks to his artistic guns, if nothing else. Far from trying to suck more money out of the older fans, if anything, he’s scoring less. The new additions always risk alienating my generation, as Lucas has to know. His movies are the way he wants his movies to be, even in the face of perpetual scorn and ridicule from his “fans.”

And while I’m already navigating the slippery slope of Star Wars fandom against my better judgment, am I the only one who thinks my generation of fans has treated George Lucas like crap? Yes, it’s a bit ridiculous to worry much about the feelings of a billionaire, but sometimes this fandom is just embarrassing. Over the past decade, I’ve heard everything about Lucas criticized, from his writing to his directing, from his work to his motivations, from his appearance to his family. Apparently Katie Lucas has had to block people on Twitter who insist on continuously, and personally, attacking her father.

There is actually a theory circulating that the addition of Vader’s “Nooo” on blu-ray is Lucas intentionally flicking his nose at fandom. Part of me really hopes that’s true. From the things I’ve read online for the past dozen years or so, if these people were my “fans” I frankly would have told them to get a life and screw off a long time ago. The thoughtless venom spewed has been utterly ridiculous. And often downright shameful.

Personally, I’ve toyed with the idea of developing the most Special Edition ever, one in which Greedo not simply shoots first and misses, but actually sets off a thermonuclear warhead at the table. It reduces the cantina to ashes, blows the whole of Mos Eisley apart, and a dust cloud erupts on the planetary surface of Tatooine, clearly visible from space. Then Han shoots Greedo last, calmly dusts himself off, and nonchalantly walks away.

And keep in mind this is coming from someone who hates that change, too. But if it had ruined Star Wars for me, I would have simply found another hobby. I wouldn’t have wasted fourteen years doing everything in my power to insult and ridicule my childhood hero, whining and complaining about the saga I’m allegedly still a fan of, much less make the fandom itself over into an angry, divisive, reactionary, mean-spirited, and, at times, miserable place to be.

Sigh.

It’s probably a waste of my time and yours, but one last thing about fandoms’ reaction to the blu-ray release that’s really annoying me.

For months now, “fans” have been running amuck on the Amazon forums and talkbacks regarding the blu-rays. If they were furious about not getting the original trilogy in the non-special edition (even though it just came out on DVD a few years ago), they’re positively livid about the newer changes. And they’re making it their life mission to let everyone know it.

Again, it’s not that they’re simply refusing to buy the set. They can buy it or not. Really, who cares? But the attitude behind that refusal is really too much to stomach. A few cursory scans reveal a fandom deliriously drunk on its own bravado, with people cancelling their orders and then strutting about, high-fiving each other, clapping each other on the back, and engaging in other displays of online adolescent machismo.

From the way these fanboys are acting for no other reason than they’ve opted out of a deluxe blu-ray set, you’d think they’d just toppled the Third Reich. In their hyperactive minds, they’re being badass nonconformists. They’re sticking it to the Man. They’re giving the finger to the System. To paraphrase one proud talkbacker: “I’m not drinking the Lucasfilm kool-aid this time! Yeah!!!”

Dude, seriously?

Guys, let’s get some things very, very clear.

You’re not making a statement.

You’re not rebels, mavericks, dissidents, or heroes.

You’re not winning a desperate battle to preserve film history.

You’re just a bunch of freakin’ nerds who aren’t going to buy a blu-ray!

Again, besides Amazon, who gives a damn?

I didn’t purchase X-Men: First Class at Target the other day. It doesn’t make me a badass, freethinking rebel striking a blow against Marvel Studios, nor does it make the people who did pick it up mindless Stan Lee slaves. So get a grip.

If you don’t want the Star Wars blu-rays, don’t buy them. I certainly don’t care. Just drop all this ridiculous, self-congratulatory posing and posturing. Even if George Lucas hand-delivered the originals to some people on pristine blu-rays tomorrow, we all know they’d just be complaining about something else ten minutes later. Because that’s what they do.

The irony is that these people really are that attached to the originals. They can’t live with change; they can’t adapt. Letting go is impossible. Then they respond with fear and anger and hatred. For some reason, the story does sound oddly familiar …

P.S. Check out A Certain Point of View. It’s an awesome blog, and updated way more frequently than this one. May the midichlorians be with you.


Thursday, August 18, 2011

The New Beginning


 - An Episode One Retrospective -

Though I cannot particularly recall when I first discovered that George Lucas was going to make more Star Wars films, I do remember the magazine clipping that someone had saved for me announcing them. An intense quiet built up around me the moment I learned the first three films narrating the back-story of Darth Vader were finally going to be brought to life. While my fandom had been dormant for some time, this short article was enough to fire a single spark inside me, igniting an excitement that would burn steadily for years.

A first generation fan, Star Wars was the very first film I'd seen in a theater. I was so young I'd barely known what a cinema was, but the moment that Star Destroyer thundered overhead exchanging laser-fire with the fleeing Blockade Runner, I was utterly captivated. Somehow, a skinny, bearded director with a closet full of flannel shirts and scuffed Nikes had managed to capture everything in a bottle that would thrill, inspire, and delight an entire generation of children like nothing else ever had. His space-age fairy tales saturated our young lives - it was the air our imaginations breathed, the very water they swam in. For us, George Lucas was nothing short of a maestro who'd conducted a galaxy-wide symphony. He'd taken the fixed stars of our childhood, populated them with modern gods and goddesses, and brought them to life through the magic of film.

So it was quite a moment to learn that he was going to be doing it all over again.

Many of us have spent a fair amount of time crafting analytical essays about the prequels, mining the subtext, and interpreting the symbolism. As rewarding as this is, I've elected to spin something more immediate and visceral this time around, and maybe even more important. For this ode to the prequels, I wanted to talk about the experience itself, that golden feeling that only settles over the world when new Star Wars films are on the way and the profound exhilaration that shakes it when they finally arrive.

When word officially spread that Lucas was once again going to take us into the world of Jedi and Sith, droids and spaceships, lightsabers and blaster bolts, the faint embers of fandom were stoked into a burning blaze. And, despite some grumbling about changes with the special editions, this was before the armchair critics and professional haters had consolidated into an empire, before the dark times on the forums and talkbacks across the 'net. It was a world when every scrap of news and every released photograph was something of an event.

Daily visits to the early Force.net were rewarded with continuous information and speculation alike. Eventually, the announcement came that the first episode had been cast, Liam Neeson, Ewan MacGregor, Natalie Portman, and some kid named Jake Lloyd winning top billing. Fans started rolling their tongues around exotic-sounding names such as "Qui-Gon Jinn" and "Padme Amidala," "Naboo" and Coruscant." Every new issue of the Star Wars Insider featured exciting updates courtesy of producer Rick McCallum, and the pages in front of them could never turn fast enough.

One trip to Ain't It Cool News finally provided the title of the new episode, something that had been speculated over forever, with fake ones constantly leaking on the Internet. The reaction was palpable when my eyes first fell across the words The Phantom Menace, a visceral feeling right in the gut. It took a moment to digest the pulpy-sounding title, but the longer you played around with it, the more appropriate it seemed. Incidentally, this was also about the time talk on AICN centered on a little script called Fanboys, which narrated the adventure of four lifelong friends who tried to break into Skywalker Ranch to see the new episode because one of them was terminally ill, although the actual movie wouldn't be made for some time.

Without question, the single most thrilling moment before the actual film was the release of the teaser trailer. For the first time in two decades, new footage from a new Star Wars film was going to make its debut, a mere couple of minutes that nonetheless had the entire fan community delirious with anticipation. This was going to be Episode One in embryo, a delicious taste of the film before its release in May. Force-starved fans even braved the likes of Meet Joe Black and The Waterboy to win a glimpse of that galaxy far, far away again, often buying tickets for movies they never even bothered watching (guilty as charged). The media covered the teaser trailer as though it was a movie in its own right, and critics went so far as to review and discuss it.

In college at the time, I had classes all day and sadly missed going with a friend of mine who I always seemed to have philosophy classes with. Later that evening, I did manage to sneak off and watch the coveted preview. The small audience was nonetheless electric, especially when the screen went dark and the Lucasfilm logo filled it. Words and images began drifting across the screen, beautifully highlighted by the first strains of the familiar Force theme.

Every generation has a legend ... Then mysterious, mounted creatures started riding out of a fog-drenched swamp. Every journey has a first step ... Then a herd of dewbacks grazed on the sun-scorched dunes of Tatooine. Every saga has a beginning ... Then the first glimpses of a strikingly beautiful, classical city, and the ornately-costumed queen who overlooked it.

When the screen went black again for a split second, the entire world was holding its breath. The entire world, in a magical, mystical moment that somehow seemed to last an eternity. Then John Williams' score blasted through the speakers, and everything exploded into a genius collage of thrilling scenes and rich images.

Pods shot across a desert. Spaceships flew past frame. Lightsabers twirled. Lasers fired. Then the first haunting line from the prequels was heard - "You refer to the prophecy of the one who will bring balance to the Force. You believe it's this ... boy?" Cut to a cherubic-looking Anakin. The trailer was breathless, dynamic, inspired, a deftly-cut look at a "more civilized age." Speeders, battle droids, a double-bladed lightsaber, and Yoda's quotable monologue on fear, hate, and the dark side. It was all there. Not to mention the collective chill of excitement and anticipation that raced down every fan's back with the simple line - "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

By the time we'd all spilled into the lobby to discuss what we'd seen, any lingering anxieties about the prequels were utterly blown away by that singular experience, so much so that it partly carried me on through all three films. Whatever adult defenses I'd marshaled since the original trilogy, whatever dubious critical eye I'd gained in film class, it was honestly all over at that moment. Any cynicism or doubts in me were washed away in a tide of sheer, overwhelming prequel goodness. Watching those rapidfire, luminous images, I for one was forever convinced that the magic was back, that the galaxy far, far away was alive and well and still breathing that mystical energy field known as the Force.

Seeing the artistry of computer graphics painting entire worlds thrilled me from the start. The parade of new characters, as well as the actors portraying them, were all dead-on from the first trailer. As with the original trilogy, all the humans, aliens, and droids were like old acquaintances, the film partly family reunion. Since the beginning, Lucas has always been able to take the totally new and exotic and simultaneously drape a thin veil of familiarity over it. As a child, my impression of Lucas was that he was as much an archeologist as a creator, as though he'd actually unearthed ancient relics from some far away galaxy, dusted them off, and reanimated them with the power of myth for our entertainment and edification.

It was difficult to suppress this delightfully uncanny feeling again when standing in front of the unforgettable teaser poster for the first time. A young, innocent, sandy-haired moppet on Tatooine casting the shadow of the archetypal villain of our childhood made for a great juxtaposition. Much like the film itself, the poster was rich with symbolism, as it conjured an image that looked like something out of a dream analyzed by Carl Jung.

Next up came all the behind-the-scenes interviews and, before it was all over, it was difficult to pass a newsstand without a Jedi Knight or Sith Lord lurking on the magazine cover. Vanity Fair kicked it all into high gear with a gorgeous, multiple-page spread. The photo of Lucas in Tunisia again gave that odd-feeling of homecoming, with an intelligent cover story introducing the new players on the galactic stage. Another highlight was the philosophical interview between Lucas and Bill Moyers in TIME, as they sat at Skywalker Ranch where The Power of Myth had been filmed. The circle was truly complete, with the padawan becoming the mythic master.

During all of this, the merchandise began hitting, starting with a mail-away Mace Windu figure. Then the big release came that spring, and I was hanging at Media Play counting down to midnight with a huge group of increasingly anxious fans. The store reopened that night, and it looked as though the movie itself had exploded in the meantime. The Phantom Menace had spawned posters, t-shirts, books, games, and of course the sought-after novelization. Naturally after that, every Walmart and Target had shelves dripping with toys, the deliciously devilish visage of Darth Maul adorning just about everything. The cynical may scorn the merchandising aspect, though it’s as much a part of Star Wars as the Force itself.

For me, those action figures, those plastic incarnations of our favorite heroes and villains, are simply modern versions of the carefully molded clay figurines of gods and goddesses dating back into prehistory. The thrill of getting the toy likeness of Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Darth Maul, Watto, Palpatine, and all the rest was palpable and electric. It put a smile on my face, much like seeing Lucas interviewed on 60 Minutes (incidentally, contrary to the haters, Lucas often has that effect on me).

The weeks leading up to the release of Episode One were unlike anything our culture has since produced. No one has forgotten the lines populated by increasingly colorful Star Wars fans that stretched around movie theaters. Nor the first time their ears heard the haunting chorus of The Duel of the Fates. Nor for that matter the spoiler-filled track listing on the soundtrack inappropriately announcing "Qui-Gon's Noble End."

Securing tickets ahead of time, I sat down in a darkened theater early opening day, the crowds breathless with anticipation. As the curtain pulled back and the screen filled with the previews for the summer movies, it was time for the first Star Wars film in sixteen years to deliver on all the hype. The Phantom Menace would polarize and divide the fan community like nothing before. It would inspire bitter flame-fests across the Internet. It would be analyzed and second-guessed a million times over.

Of course, to be fair, The Phantom Menace would also thrill, inspire, and delight a new generation of little Star Wars fans who would embrace Jar Jar and midichlorians as naturally as we embraced wookiees and stormtroopers.

But none of us knew that at the time, nor did we need to know. All we did know was that the day was here, the hour was upon us, and we were about to be transported out of our mundane lives. In many ways, we were about to go home again after a sixteen year exile.

Then that half-sacred blue font appeared on the screen - A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ...

And, for the next two hours anyway, all was right with the world. 

* This was sort of going to tie in with the 3-D release in February, but what the hey. I suppose it still does. 

** Also available at The Forcecast!

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Living Force


The Force is what gives the Jedi his power. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us. It penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.”

-        Obi-Wan Kenobi

     The most unique character in Star Wars, the one that permeates, guides, and flows through the complete saga, is the mysterious energy known only as “the Force.”
     Any detailed discussion of the Star Wars galaxy must really begin with the acknowledgement of this living field of mystical energy. It informs the entire stage, as well as the characters acting upon it. The Force not only binds the galaxy, it also makes it live and breathe, ebb and flow. Its ineffable presence is what truly makes Star Wars mythic, for like all genuine myths, it once again brings the universe to life for us in a way modern stories rarely do.
     In the Annotated Screenplays of the original trilogy, Lucas outlined his ideas in early story conferences:

The act of living generates a force field, an energy. That energy surrounds
us … There is a giant mass of energy in the universe that has a good side
and a bad side. We are part of the Force because we generate the
power that makes the Force live. When we die, we become
part of that Force, so we never really die.

This established much of the framework for what grew into a complex, fully-realized cosmology.
     It also reminds me of what the British writer and thinker Aldous Huxley called the “perennial philosophy.” In it, he identified a common thread running through nearly all religious traditions. This thread followed that there was a vast Ground of Being shared by all; that it is both transcendent and immanent; and that the purpose of existence is to know, love, and finally become one with this Ground. Huxley defined this as the “Minimum Working Hypothesis,” and the Force clearly fills this role in that galaxy far, far away.
     Yet there is more than one view of the Force, as hinted at in the prequel trilogy. One can even infer from Episode One that there is something of a denominational schism within the Jedi Order itself. Though all dedicated to maintaining peace and justice in the galaxy, the Jedi of that time are bound by codes and councils, somewhat removed from the Force Yoda and old Ben Kenobi waxed lyrical about in the original films. As was discussed in the last post, it was the maverick Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn who really found the heart and soul of the Force, who followed its will as a poet follows his muse, and passed it on to the next generation. [1]
     One of the very first lines in the prequels centers on Qui-Gon’s insistence about being mindful of the “Living Force.” While the Jedi Council often seem fixated on the distant past or uncertain future, the Living Force is by contrast grounded in the present moment, the “here and now,” the only reality we can truly know. As such, it is also steeped in flashes of intuition, focused spontaneity, as well as an empathy with and deep connection to all beings.
     This “living” quality is perhaps the seminal idea in all mythic traditions. In our own history, it permeated the world of our ancestors. The sun was a chariot driven across the sky by a deity, or the moon was the eye of a goddess, or the earth itself was a living body. When such imaginings were revealed to not be literally true, the Cartesian and Newtonian models that dominated much of eighteenth and nineteenth century science dictated a mechanistic, almost clockwork universe held together by little more than dead matter and dumb luck. With the natural world basically mere automata, all consciousness and intelligence were thought to exist solely in the turnings of the human mind. [2]
     In sharp contrast to this, the intuitive, imaginative world of myth always pictured the surrounding universe as something animated, intelligent, and responsive, a magical energy the gifted could play as effortlessly as a master pianist could a piano. The Force brilliantly continues this metaphor. From a certain point of view, the Jedi are as much musicians as warrior-monks, the Force their scaled, stringed instrument. When the Jedi selectively strum or pluck certain strings, a harmony of power erupts. The more skilled the master, the more complex the rhythm, the more astounding the feat. [3]
     Again in the Annotated Screenplays, Lawrence Kasdan, writer of Episodes V-VI, defined the Force as the “combined vibrations of all living things.” So perhaps the explanation really is a good one, the Force that we so powerfully see in action really the effect of something akin to musical vibrations on the surrounding world. Either way, the important point is that, as in all myth, there is a creative participation between humanity and the cosmos, and that said cosmos is alive and attentive.
     One could also argue that this “living” quality is at the base of most mystical experiences as well. As recounted in William James’ The Varieties of Religious Experience,” Richard Bucke eloquently explains the sensation of what he called “cosmic consciousness,” which overtook him one seemingly ordinary day:

Among other things, I did not merely come to believe, but I saw that
the universe is not composed of dead matter, but is, on the contrary,
a living Presence: I became conscious in myself of eternal life.

Bucke’s commentary brings to mind the passage in Terry Brooks’ novelization of Episode One regarding how the Jedi began as a theological or philosophical study group, and it took an enormous amount of time before they even became aware of the Force.
     One has to wonder if Bucke’s experience of “cosmic consciousness” was all that different from the first Jedi who spontaneously realized he or she was immersed in a vast field of living energy. [4]
     Equally intriguing is the realization that beings in the galaxy far, far away create the Force, rather than the other way around. As Yoda himself said, “Life creates it. Makes it grow,” once again establishing this is the “living” Force that is being discussed, as taught by Qui-Gon. This also neatly ties in with Joseph Campbell’s thoughts on spirituality in The Power of Myth series: “Spiritual life is the bouquet, the perfume, the flowering and fulfillment of a human life, not a supernatural virtue imposed upon it.” So the Force grows out of the organic world as naturally as an oak tree grows from an acorn. [5]
     All of this is to again emphasize that the Star Wars galaxy is in fact animate, and the effects of this on the characters within have to be seismic. The basic psychology of someone living in such a reality is no doubt going to be drastically different from someone living in a passive, unresponsive one. The importance Jedi stress about letting go and having faith is important, because such a reality offers a natural “buoyancy” that supports and sustains someone when they do so.
     In one of his classic lectures on Zen Buddhism, Alan Watts likened the universe to “water.” To let go is to conversely be held up, while to struggle is to drown. The same could be said of life in the Star Wars galaxy, with water perhaps being the best metaphor yet for the Force.
     To imagine the Force as a kind of galaxy-wide ocean, filling all the spaces between the stars, planets, and moons, is to see and feel its reality all the more. While billions of beings swim in it as oblivious to its currents as fish are to water, there are others who come to feel the flow of its tides, and even partially control them. One could also visualize significant events creating ripples like a stone dropped in a pond, with said ripples traveling back and forth in time and space, enabling the gifted to see visions of the always-in-motion future.
     Incidentally, this interpretation of Force energy also makes good sense of the Jedi Order’s prohibition of things like “attachment” and “possession,” which play a substantial role in the prequels. As the Jedi teach, the Force exists within and without, both embracing the galaxy as well as uniting it. From this certain point of view, all of existence is fundamentally one, resulting in a wholeness that is as real as any of the particulars one may cling to.
     To again invoke a Zen metaphor, the ocean may produce individual waves that constantly crest and trough, but the water composing the waves is the true field of existence which is constant. If one becomes too infatuated with a single wave rather than allowing its natural rising and falling, suffering inevitably follows. To ignore that oneness of things [6] by fixating on a particular point [7] is called avidya in Sanskrit, often translated simply as delusion.
     It is well worth pointing out a truly extraordinary passage in the Episode III novelization which highlights this point. Matthew Stover brilliantly paints a portrait of a Jedi master in his prime, as he experiences reality when viewed through the shining kaleidoscope of the Force, in a rare moment when the dark side has receded and the energy is pure and perfect once more:

The Force flows through him and around him as though he has stepped into a crystal-pure waterfall lost in the green coils of a forgotten rain forest; when he opens himself to that sparkling stream it flows into him and through him and out again without the slightest interference from his conscious will. The part of him that calls itself Obi-Wan Kenobi 
is no more than a ripple, an eddy in the pool into which he endlessly pours.
 
The passage goes on to describe how he shares a fundamental identity with the ship he is on, the lightsaber taken from him, the battle droids surrounding him, and even the cyborg general who wants to kill him. All of this is caught up in the inexorable flow that is the Force, a flow that is beyond questions and answers, belief and doubt.
     The Force simply is, as constant as the silent stars shining throughout the galaxy. Its luminous reality pours from all the worlds, only to flow back to guide, inform, and connect them. This cross-pollinating energy plays the star systems like a harp, the resulting rhythms being the saga we all know and love ... [8]
    



[1] Albeit it as a Force ghost. Yes, we really need that deleted scene that tells us all this at the end of Episode III.

[2] This historical debate naturally continues in all six Star Wars films to great effect. 

[3] Such as levitating an X-Wing.

[4] Or at least I do, but I’m weird like that. 

[5] This biological root makes the dreaded midichlorians totally sensible, though lucky you, we won’t tackle that until a later date.

[6] The Force.

[7] Like say, a certain Senator from Naboo. 

[8] Interestingly, I rediscovered a quote from Percy Shelley who once conjured up an image that he intuitively sensed when he let go his conscious self and was inspired to write poetry: “There is a power by which we are surrounded, like the atmosphere in which some motionless lyre is suspended, which visits with its breath our silent chords, at will.” Our very own Romantic poet could have been channeling the Living Force, no?