J.J. Abrams' Star Wars movies feel like what he thinks Star Wars means to us more than what Star Wars means to him. He bent over backwards to deliver what he thought were crowd-pleasing moments.
George Lucas did not always deliver a Star Wars film of consistent quality. But he did have consistent vision. He had something to say.
This realization has made me retroactively like The Last Jedi more. For all the flaws of that film, I have to give credit to Rian Johnson for creating a movie that was not purely fan service.
He tried to make a Star Wars movie that was meaningful to him, one that challenged us and tried to give us something new within a familiar framework. I may not have liked the final result, but I can appreciate the effort. And I respect his vision a hell of a lot more than Abrams' soulless appeal to nostalgia.
I've spoken before about my issues with how the trilogy has developed the new characters. After three films, I still feel like I barely know these characters.
I think they took too many shortcuts. We needed more interplay between characters, less running around and reacting to chaos. We needed a better balance of "quiet" moments and "loud" moments.
There's a joke I've seen floating around regarding Abrams' storytelling technique. "When you don't know how to end a scene, have someone barge into the room with weapons." (Or perhaps a random tentacle monster on a smuggling ship will do.)
I'm very intrigued about this trope of "interrupting" a quiet or expository scene with action. I don't recall either the original trilogy or the prequels using interruptions excessively as a transition from one type of scene into another. (For a million examples of this trope, see [or don't see] Aquaman.)
Earlier I gave the film a B-/C+. And my assessment was true--from a certain point of view. But if I'm paying attention to the minutiae, the technique, the characters, and the vision--if those things matter to me (which they often do)--then I give the film a lower grade.
The film was more or less what I expected it to be. The two prior films had tempered my expectations, and that's why I gave it a higher grade at the time. But it's not the kind of film that sits well with me. It gives me intellectual indigestion the longer I sit with it. In other words, it gets the higher grade as long as I'm not actually thinking too much about it.
Oh well. Some days the Force is with you, other days you're with the Force.
To end this on a more positive note, I would like to share what I consider to be my Star Wars "headcanon":
Original Trilogy
Revenge of the Sith
Original Thrawn Trilogy
X-Wing/Rogue Squadron novels and comics
Clone Wars
Rebels
Mandalorian
I'm open to adding more. Anything by Timothy Zahn is worth reading. I'm just way behind on the literature.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Thoughts on Doomsday Clock
This book was more or less what I'd hoped it would be.
So why didn't I like it?
One of the issues, I think, was the issues. Waiting sometimes multiple months for the next issue did not enhance my reading experience.
The first few issues were genuinely exciting to read. I had bought into the hype. But by the end I found that nothing could really grab me, except for the ideas.
Some notes:
The New 52 is officially over. It exists somewhere out there as another Earth. Earth 52.
The ongoing theme of the book was finding hope. How do you take a morally gray world like Watchmen and reconcile it with the pervasive hopefulness of Superman? What happens when cynicism and despair clash with optimism and hope? What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
The answer is change.
But what changed exactly? Superman's world is more or less restored. The JSA is back. The Legion is back. Even Ma and Pa are back. Superman's world looks the same as ever. We have discarded the uncomfortable unfamiliarity of the New 52 and have fully embraced nostalgia.
The thing that changed was Watchmen.
Watchmen was a world without hope. But when you pit an ideology like that against Superman, Superman always wins. So naturally the story of Watchmen now ends (or newly begins) on a more hopeful note.
This alteration to the world of Watchmen is an interesting "political" statement. Perhaps the writer was watching MSNBC one day and thought to himself, "The world is running out of hope. This is like the beginning of Watchmen. What can I do to change the narrative?"
The writer understands that cynicism is not sustainable. A soul cannot survive on it. A soul needs hope. So changing Watchmen from a story of cynicism to a story of hope is a bold political statement indeed--certainly when you consider how sacrosanct the original story is.
Or was.
Perhaps part of the meta narrative was that the writer wanted to break the "hold" Watchmen had over the rest of the comics industry. Its cynicism seemed to infect all the other books in some way, and it poisoned an entire cinematic universe starting with Man of Steel (directed by the director of Watchmen). In other words, he wanted to put Watchmen in its place, contain its influence.
Well, there's no better way to defeat Watchmen than to give it hope.
So I was completely on board for the meta narrative alone. I think the weakness of the story was the, er, "narrative" narrative.
By about halfway through the series, I just stopped feeling it. The initial hype was gone. I lost interest in the mounting conflict. I only cared about how it ended, not how we got there.
And the book was repeatedly delayed.
Nothing kills momentum like a delay. It's one of the reasons why I primarily read this stuff in collected volumes. But I was so hyped, I knew I couldn't wait that long. Yet I wound up waiting a long time anyway.
There's a longer conversation to be had about the ideal way to publish and read comics. All I can say is that following a book for 2 years when it should only have lasted 1 year does affect my enjoyment of it.
Detaching myself from the actual timing of publication, reading stories on my own schedule--my own terms--is the best way for me to enjoy comics. Reading a single chapter every few months is not.
So why didn't I like it?
One of the issues, I think, was the issues. Waiting sometimes multiple months for the next issue did not enhance my reading experience.
The first few issues were genuinely exciting to read. I had bought into the hype. But by the end I found that nothing could really grab me, except for the ideas.
Some notes:
The New 52 is officially over. It exists somewhere out there as another Earth. Earth 52.
The ongoing theme of the book was finding hope. How do you take a morally gray world like Watchmen and reconcile it with the pervasive hopefulness of Superman? What happens when cynicism and despair clash with optimism and hope? What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
The answer is change.
But what changed exactly? Superman's world is more or less restored. The JSA is back. The Legion is back. Even Ma and Pa are back. Superman's world looks the same as ever. We have discarded the uncomfortable unfamiliarity of the New 52 and have fully embraced nostalgia.
The thing that changed was Watchmen.
Watchmen was a world without hope. But when you pit an ideology like that against Superman, Superman always wins. So naturally the story of Watchmen now ends (or newly begins) on a more hopeful note.
This alteration to the world of Watchmen is an interesting "political" statement. Perhaps the writer was watching MSNBC one day and thought to himself, "The world is running out of hope. This is like the beginning of Watchmen. What can I do to change the narrative?"
The writer understands that cynicism is not sustainable. A soul cannot survive on it. A soul needs hope. So changing Watchmen from a story of cynicism to a story of hope is a bold political statement indeed--certainly when you consider how sacrosanct the original story is.
Or was.
Perhaps part of the meta narrative was that the writer wanted to break the "hold" Watchmen had over the rest of the comics industry. Its cynicism seemed to infect all the other books in some way, and it poisoned an entire cinematic universe starting with Man of Steel (directed by the director of Watchmen). In other words, he wanted to put Watchmen in its place, contain its influence.
Well, there's no better way to defeat Watchmen than to give it hope.
So I was completely on board for the meta narrative alone. I think the weakness of the story was the, er, "narrative" narrative.
By about halfway through the series, I just stopped feeling it. The initial hype was gone. I lost interest in the mounting conflict. I only cared about how it ended, not how we got there.
And the book was repeatedly delayed.
Nothing kills momentum like a delay. It's one of the reasons why I primarily read this stuff in collected volumes. But I was so hyped, I knew I couldn't wait that long. Yet I wound up waiting a long time anyway.
There's a longer conversation to be had about the ideal way to publish and read comics. All I can say is that following a book for 2 years when it should only have lasted 1 year does affect my enjoyment of it.
Detaching myself from the actual timing of publication, reading stories on my own schedule--my own terms--is the best way for me to enjoy comics. Reading a single chapter every few months is not.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Passivity of the Jedi
In the past I've praised Luke's role in Return of the Jedi, how he essentially took both Vader and Emperor off the chess board so his friends in the Rebellion could do the real work.
What I hadn't noticed before is that this is in stark contrast to his behavior in Empire Strikes Back, when he is so worried about the fate of his friends that he is willing to abandon his Jedi training to save them.
The result is that he not only walks into a trap, but his friends--who managed to escape on their own--actually have to come back and rescue him!
Luke's more passive role in ROTJ is the result of lesson he learned from his disastrous decision. He finally begins to understand what Obi-Wan had once said--that there are alternatives to fighting.
In ROTJ, he doesn't even have to fight in order to win. He just has to occupy Vader's and Emperor's attention long enough for his friends to complete the mission.
This is probably why I think that the one thing in The Last Jedi that felt true to his character was Luke projecting himself to Kylo Ren rather than engaging him directly. Luke would not actually fight if he didn't have to. He just needed to distract Kylo Ren long enough for the Resistance to escape.
With Rise of Skywalker coming out soon, we will see if Rey herself learned any of these lessons. She has proven herself to be very naive in The Last Jedi. She was plagued by doubts about her identity and purpose. And the one thing she was certain about--that she could bring Kylo Ren back to the good side--wound up revealing how much she still had to learn. She had more faith in Kylo Ren's strength of character than she did in her own.
And it's these flaws that have me convinced that she is not a Mary Sue, no matter how "powerful" she is. A Mary Sue is not just about power levels and how easily that power is acquired. It's about lack of depth. It's about characters who don't make mistakes. Well--Rey has made a number of mistakes in TLJ. Now let's see if she learned anything from them.
What I hadn't noticed before is that this is in stark contrast to his behavior in Empire Strikes Back, when he is so worried about the fate of his friends that he is willing to abandon his Jedi training to save them.
The result is that he not only walks into a trap, but his friends--who managed to escape on their own--actually have to come back and rescue him!
Luke's more passive role in ROTJ is the result of lesson he learned from his disastrous decision. He finally begins to understand what Obi-Wan had once said--that there are alternatives to fighting.
In ROTJ, he doesn't even have to fight in order to win. He just has to occupy Vader's and Emperor's attention long enough for his friends to complete the mission.
This is probably why I think that the one thing in The Last Jedi that felt true to his character was Luke projecting himself to Kylo Ren rather than engaging him directly. Luke would not actually fight if he didn't have to. He just needed to distract Kylo Ren long enough for the Resistance to escape.
With Rise of Skywalker coming out soon, we will see if Rey herself learned any of these lessons. She has proven herself to be very naive in The Last Jedi. She was plagued by doubts about her identity and purpose. And the one thing she was certain about--that she could bring Kylo Ren back to the good side--wound up revealing how much she still had to learn. She had more faith in Kylo Ren's strength of character than she did in her own.
And it's these flaws that have me convinced that she is not a Mary Sue, no matter how "powerful" she is. A Mary Sue is not just about power levels and how easily that power is acquired. It's about lack of depth. It's about characters who don't make mistakes. Well--Rey has made a number of mistakes in TLJ. Now let's see if she learned anything from them.
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