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Apology of the Sith
George Lucas tones down his abusive ways for Episode III
by Chris Eng
May 2005
“How is it?” That’s what everyone wants to know. “Is it better than Episode II? It can’t have been worse than Episode I, could it?” And in the interests of not prolonging your suspense, the short answers to those questions are: yes, it is, and no, it couldn’t.
While Episode II was an improvement on its predecessor, that’s like praising necrotising fasciitis for not being ebola. It was still, in almost every way, inexcusable. The love scenes were some of the clunkiest ever filmed, and moments intended to provide poignancy and depth ended up risible—which is why, for the past three years, fans have existed in a numbed state of denial similar to someone who’s been repeatedly victimised by their spouse.
Post-Phantom Menace: “What happened to you?” “Mee-sa fell down the stairs.” “Uh-huh.” “All right, look—it was George, but it’s okay! He didn’t know what he was doing! He means well! He only did it because he loves me.”
Post-Attack of the Clones: “Look, would you just leave him? He’s caused you enough hurt.” “No, you don’t understand! He gave me some of the happiest moments of my life! He made me better than I was!” “He made you a mess who goes around bruised and bitter all the time. I saw what he did to you recently.” “Well… but… I… *sigh*… He didn’t hit me as hard as last time…”
This time, the hope-centres of our brains were shut off. All we could realistically wish for was that he would backhand us quickly and get it—all of it—over with. We had been forcibly dragged back in the fold and shit-kicked; we wanted our closure and to get out.
Imagine my surprise then, when all the things we had originally wanted and expected with Episode I were more-or-less included in this installment. There is only a fleeting, silent glimpse of Jar-Jar—possibly the most hated figure in fandom ever; the idiotic battle droids were kept to the barest minimum; Padme and Anakin were allowed only as much screentime as they needed in order to sew up their plot; it’s full of serious content; there were momentous and action-packed space battles; there were climactic lightsaber battles; and there was an army of Wookies.
Suddenly, Revenge of the Sith isn’t a brutal, final assault on the way out the door—it’s almost an apology; an attempt to bring things back to the way they used to be. And while that doesn’t excuse or make up for the trauma we suffered in the wake of the last two films, it goes a long way toward us not filing charges or a restraining order.
So, no—it wasn’t bad. It was the return to form we felt we were promised with Episode I; there were shockingly cheesy moments in it, yes, but—well—they probably numbered less than Jedi. And sure, there are scenes and plot elements in Sith that can’t be scrutinised logically for fear of bringing the entire house of cards tumbling down, but that’s fine—in the interests of being as conciliatory as possible and letting the series end with a small amount of dignity, we can avoid thinking about them overly much. George Lucas has given us the ability to seal off this portion of our life in a much less painful manner than expected (whether we choose to acknowledge this prequel trilogy or not) and if he can’t be excused for the last several years, he’s at least taken a huge step toward making amends.
We shouldn’t forget what he’s done or the scars he’s left, but in the wake of Revenge of the Sith we might begin to forgive.
(This article originally appeared in Terminal City.)
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