A LETTER TO J.J. ABRAMS (PART 2)

Welcome to Part 2.

As mentioned before, part 2 is about all the problems with Episode III and, more importantly, the possible solutions. Before we start, there are are few minor things that need to be addressed/added to the previous post.

The execution of Anakin's arc, while a big problem, is definitely not the only problem. This other big problem can be summed up in one tasteless sentence: ROTS is one big gigantic jerk-off fest. Just look at the last act of the film, wherein a good 20 minutes of run-time is devoted to intercutting between a battle between The Emperor and Yoda and one between Obi-Wan and Anakin, four characters who we know survive in one form or the other.  Why be so concerned about this? Because it is important to prioritize substance over flashiness and fan-service. Sure it's every fan's wet dream to see the Emperor and Yoda duke it out, but unless there is a point or theme attached to it. All I get from ROTS is that a battle between the greatest warriors on either side is inevitable and cool. Not enough, Lucas.

So with that in mind, take another look at Belated Media's (BM's) "What if Episode II were good?" video. Now, allow me to make a couple minor changes to the ending. I will get to the "why" afterwards.

At some point Anakin needs to have a conversation with the Chancellor (who in BM's version is the intermediary between the Senate and the Jedi Council) concerning Count Dooku. Remember, in BM's version Count Dooku is a good guy who has fled the Jedi Council because of his suspicions that it has been infiltrated by the Sith. So this conversation should consist of Palpatine telling Anakin that Dooku is evil and needs to be stopped at all costs. When Anakin counters with the fact that Obi-Wan is clearly not of this opinion, Palpatine persuades him to think for himself and not just trust his master's word.

During this exchange, Palpatine also reveals the Senate's plan to send a bunch of clone troopers to blow up Dooku's hideout on Geonosis. Here is where things get tricky. Obi-Wan can't have told Anakin about his plans to contact Dooku on his own. Why? Because if Anakin knew Obi-Wan was going to be there he wouldn't readily agree to sending clones in to bomb the place. And we need him to side with Palpatine and the Senate. Why does it make sense that Obi-Wan would keep his lone mission from him? Because at this point Anakin is recovering from having his hand chopped off, and Obi-Wan doesn't want Anakin to play the hero (like he always does) and put himself in jeopardy. However, Obi-Wan does tell Padme of his plans, for sole reason that if something went wrong on Geonosis she could tell Anakin and Anakin could come help him out. This in turn shows us Obi-Wan's implicit trust in Padme, and hints at his feelings for her.

Then, when Padme comes to visit Anakin in the sick-bay, Anakin tells her about the Senate's plan to send in clones in to bomb Geonosis, thinking that Padme already knows, and expresses that he is in favor of it. Having had no prior knowledge of this, Padme reveals to Anakin that Obi-Wan has gone there alone, and therefore may be in grave danger (see she's been left out of the plans, which further hints that something is not right). Anakin, of course, rushes off to Obi-Wan's rescue against Padme's protests (still harboring an intense hatred toward Dooku, but now a confused mixture of worry and distrust for Obi-Wan). Meanwhile, Dooku is informing Obi-Wan that there is a Sith mole within the Senate but he doesn't know exactly who it is.

When Anakin arrives on Geonosis, he immediately attacks Dooku, ignoring Obi-Wan's pleads for him to stop. His hatred gets the best of him. In his mind Dooku is a terrorist, and terrorists need to be taken out, no questions asked (Bush's pre-emptive strike policy parallel: check). We get a brief battle wherein Anakin injures Dooku before Obi-Wan steps in and clashes lightsabers with him (foreshadowing: check) just once to prevent him from striking the death blow, which snaps Anakin out of his rage. Before Obi-Wan can explain the situation fully, the clone trooper ships arrive. Dooku elects to stay behind to send a much greater message to the Republic, and Obi-Wan and Anakin high-tail it out of there before the whole place blows. The film ends with them watching the destruction from Anakin's ship. It's surprisingly dark and more uncertain than ever in terms of both character and plot.

Why does all this need to happen? Foreshadowing for one, but it's also the most visual and visceral expression of Anakin's dissent from the Jedi way. And it all stems from a very personal and relatable feeling: a growing distrust of his master and friend. He does not execute Dooku like he does in Episode III, but his actions get the point across. It also takes that same-ish climactic beat and places it where it belongs: at the end of Episode II rather than the beginning of the next film. It is so important for the audience to leave Episode II with a real sense of uneasiness about Anakin's character - a sensation that will deepen and fester between then and the release of the next film. I cannot express how vital this is to the success of our hypothetical Episode III. It is a crucial beat in Anakin's arc.

Phew! So now, without any further ado, let's dive into our hypothetical Episode III.

The most influential change is that Anakin and Obi-Wan are now aware that there may be a mole within the Senate. However, Anakin is more skeptical than Obi-Wan, and suspects that Dooku may have fabricated the entire story in order to shift blame away from him. This is important: Anakin still believes, deep down, that Dooku was the traitor to the Republic.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan informs the Jedi Order that there may be a traitor in their midst, and Windu and Yoda, among others, agree that they have sensed a dark disturbance nearby. Anakin pleads for them to reconsider, but he is largely ignored. Before Anakin knows it, the Jedi begin to make plans to separate themselves from the Republic. In Anakin's mind, the Jedi are becoming Separatists themselves. After all, from his point of view, Palpatine is the only person who has insisted that he think for himself, while the Jedi Council simply urges him to remain loyal to them.

This brings us to the first real plot point: the Jedi Council orders Anakin to use his friendship with Palpatine (the intermediary) to keep a watchful eye over the Senate. Anakin reluctantly accepts. He then goes to Palpatine and informs him that he is to be his and the Senate's personal bodyguard, as the war with the Separatists is looking ever-more desperate and the Senate may be in danger. It kills Anakin to keep this large a secret from someone he trusts so deeply, but, Palpatine surprises Anakin by guessing his real intent and agreeing to go along with the ruse. This only strengthens Anakin's trust in him.

This leads us to his first interaction with Padme in the film. Remember, in this hypothetical storyline, Anakin and Padme's relationship is still mostly professional. We're dealing with a more subdued romantic subplot here, one which more closely parallels Han and Leia's romance in ESB and ROTJ. Honestly, if I could change one thing about the prequels, it would be this. Audiences love a good push and pull when it comes to onscreen romances. Because story is all about conflict! A deep unwavering romance spells dramatic disaster.

So here we are dealing with a Padme who finds herself stuck between her very different feelings for Obi-Wan and Anakin. Remember, Obi-Wan is our real main character here, and the previous hypothetical films have subtly hinted at his feelings for Padme. This makes the showdown at the end all the more dramatic, and Obi-Wan's sense of responsibility for Anakin's turn to the dark side not so cut-and-dry.

We also have the Han Solo-esque character of Owen Lars and the recurring villain Darth Maul to deal with. So let's have that same opening space battle over Coruscant we have in ROTS, but now instead of Obi-Wan and Anakin flying in to capture General Grievous, we have Obi-Wan and Owen flying in while Anakin sits on the sideline down on Coruscant to protect/spy on the Senate (which of course includes Padme).

Anakin isn't happy with this. He and Grievous have a history and he is itching for revenge (get it, revenge?). So Owen and Obi-Wan, on the same ship this time, pilot their way toward Grievous's ship, with Owen manning the guns with the help of R2D2 to take out enemy fighters while Obi-Wan flies. After a fun space battle (!!!) they dock and Obi-Wan enters the ship alone while Owen hangs back and R2 takes control of the ship to guide Obi-Wan through.

Meanwhile, Anakin takes Padme aside and tells her about his mission. His trust in her comes as a pleasant surprise, but she is taken aback when he contemplates abandoning his position because he senses Obi-Wan is heading into a trap. See, instead of criticizing his selfishness like Leia does to Han, she criticizes his tendency to play the hero and avoid his duties. It reminds us of that similar conflict but feels fresh because it's true to character.

On the ship, Obi-Wan sneaks his way to the bridge but finds Grievous waiting for him with several MagnaGuards by his side (the ones with the dual sided purple electric staffs). After a heroic but brief battle, he is subdued. During this time, several droids attempt to board Owen's ship. After a brief phaser battle and thrilling rescue of R2D2, he is forced to undock and head back to the Star Destroyer. On his way out, his ship is damaged. He informs R2 of the need to make repairs once they have docked.  Back on Coruscant, Grievous contacts the Senate, telling them he has captured Obi-Wan and demanding their surrender. Anakin is furious, and takes it upon himself to rescue Obi-Wan.

As Anakin flies up to Grievous's ship, Darth Maul looks on from his own personal fighter. The implication: this was all an elaborate ruse to get Anakin alone and vulnerable (in this version, the Emperor's plan regarding Anakin is more fluid. His goal is to get Anakin to be as reckless and angry as possible, to test him, to make chaos). Anakin arrives on the ship and slashes and kills his way up to the bridge. When he arrives, he fights Grievous. Grievous tries to flee, but Anakin manages to stop and disable him. During this fight, Anakin channels his rage, and we can see how his force powers suddenly step it up a notch. Grievous pleads for mercy, but Anakin executes him.

Anakin then heads back to the bridge to rescue Obi-Wan, who is dazed and mutters something about a trap just before passing out. When Anakin turns to leave, he sees DARTH MAUL, standing between them and escape.

Again, it is ON. As they fight, Maul tells him (yes, he speaks in this, but is terse) that the Jedi are breaking away from the Republic and joining the Separatists, and that the Sith are eradicating them to protect the Republic. This sudden confirmation of Anakin's suspicions takes him off guard, but he continues to fight. Maul is the better warrior and is able to corner him, but just as he's about to strike the killing blow...

Obi-Wan steps in.

The three battle ferociously, and we see Obi-Wan share a worried glance with Anakin. The last time he fought alongside a Jedi against Maul it was Qui-Gon and he was killed. He fears the same thing may happen.

But Maul is overwhelmed. He gives up and manages to escape.

As the Jedi head back to Coruscant after their bittersweet victory, Anakin confides in Obi-Wan that he executed Grievous, and expresses worry that it was not for the right reason. Obi-Wan suggests that his real reason for doing so, be it revenge, mercy, or for the greater good, is not always so cut and dry. He warns him, however, that a Jedi should not act on revenge, and urges him to meditate on his feelings. Anakin agrees, although (we know) revenge definitely had something to do with his actions.

Later Anakin talks with the Council. They reprimand him for leaving his assignment. Anakin expresses frustration, citing their partial success, but the council orders him, strictly, to stay with the Council. Anakin swallows his pride and agrees.

Obi-Wan's mission is now to find Maul. Before he leaves, he has a brief conversation with Anakin, wherein he reveals he is secretly grateful for Anakin's actions and has his own differences with the Council's decision to keep Anakin grounded, but that Anakin should consider this mission not as a demotion and as a great show of trust in him. After all, it is perhaps the most important mission of all. Not to mention, he adds, a perfect opportunity to practice patience.

After Obi-Wan leaves, Anakin meditates with Yoda, who suggests he re-visualize the incident and search his feelings. After doing so, Anakin reveals that a need for revenge may have been a factor, and Yoda warns him that that feeling will lead to anger, hate, etc, and eventually the dark side. As Yoda urges him to find inner piece, Anakin has a vision of the future: of Obi-Wan standing over Padme as she dies giving birth. It's important to understand how his perspective of this vision is different here. He loves Padme, but is not with her, so he assumes that Obi-Wan is the father. Yoda sense this jealousy and tells him to let go of attachments, and that the future is always in a fluidic state.

Let's take an intermission here. This has turned out quite long for a blog post, so I guess this is now a four-part post! Don't worry, I promise there's a point to it all.

No 1. out-->

ON 'DUMB AND DUMBER TO' and THE COMEDIC EFFECT OF EDITING

Editing is an important comedic tool. It's just as important as the actor or the dialogue, or the setting. In fact, I would rank it second in importance only to the script itself, although sometimes bad editing can make a great moment fall flat.

Suffice it to say that editing is real important.

I'm not saying that Dumb and Dumber To would be a good film if the editing were better (I'll get to what I mean soon), but it might have been decent. At least better than the nightmarish childhood-ruiner of a film I just watched.

Me, if I weren't sick and under the heavy influence of DayQuil.

And just to be clear, I'm critiquing this solely as a die-hard fan of the first film. These words come to you from the heart. I could tear this film apart, but I won't. With a film like this, there's just no point.

But I will say that aside from all the lowest-brow humor, the lame call-backs to old jokes, the sadness I felt every second while watching these two seasoned actors go through the motions (and in doing so, forget the purpose of the motions entirely) the editing was a serious problem.

So how can a cut be funny?

Of course you've got your standard cut-away-to-the-next-scene moments, which are crucial to the film's rhythm and can in-and-of themselves get laughs. But during the scenes, the answer is pretty counter intuitive. Think back to Dumb and Dumber, does the editing stand out as being funny? No. It's actually damn near invisible. To the unseasoned eye the editing in Dumb and Dumber To might seem invisible, but really it's employing very obvious techniques to get us to laugh. Why is this bad?

Because it's like holding up a cue card that says "laughter" to an unwilling audience.

Good editing is invisible, especially in comedy. Jokes must stand on their own. When you cut-in just before Lloyd delivers a funny line, not only are you essentially telling the audience "okay, here comes a joke, are you ready?" but you are manufacturing chemistry and demonstrating a certain lack of faith in said joke. And both these things spell certain comedic death.

This is why the best scene in Dumb and Dumber To is one when Harry, Lloyd, and That Bad Guy are driving in the hearse. The camera sticks to one angle for a good 30 seconds, and all three are in frame. We finally get to see the chemistry between them, hear the jokes on their own. It's not laugh out loud funny, but it's one of the very, very few moments where these characters feel like they are the least bit real.

Please, watch Dumb and Dumber again and look for the editing. What is it doing in the funniest scenes? In the dog car? At the rest-stop with the hot peppers? For the most part, it stays on one wide shot and let's the jokes and actor's chemistry do all the heavy lifting. Sure, there is a cut-in here and there, but it's always done in a subtle way, not to simply highlight a character's line, but maybe show a character's reaction or physicality. But DADT goes the other way all the damn time. The editing is constantly trying to let us in on the joke. It doesn't just not work, it makes everything worse.

As mentioned, there's a ton more to say. Like how Jeff Daniels seems to be doing some kind of weird slur and contorts his face to make himself look dumber (as if overcompensating for all his years of playing the straight-laced smart guy). Or how every other joke is related to poop, and no joke an attempt to dig deeper into these characters, only to poke fun at them. Or how both characters yell "show us your tits" during a science convention.

Strike 2 and 3.

Or how clumsily the plot is set up, even though it's a simple copy-and-paste job. Or how Lloyd's 20-ish-year mental breakdown is totally incongruous with the ending of the first film and just comes off as the writer's attempt to force in some humor at the beginning, while simultaneously avoiding the hard work of figuring out where these characters might have ended up after 22 years.

Or how, perhaps most importantly, it is completely void of the heart that made the original so great. Gone is the feeling that there may be some hope for these characters, or that they are, on some level, aware that their life is utter shit and actually unhappy under their blissfully ignorant exteriors.

And of course, there's always the simple fact that comedy sequels should never, ever be made, best illustrated here. But overall, I just want to get across two messages:

To filmmakers and writers of comedy: your jokes/characters should stand their own and demand that the editing get out of their way. They should always feel real, because even an idiot deserves a few layers.

And to Editors: your job isn't to construct moments, but to let moments happen.

No. 1 out-->

CONCERNING 'INTERSTELLAR'

"Maybe we've spent too long trying to figure all this out with theory." 
- Brand

If you live in the same world that I do than you have read dozens of reviews of this film, each more contradictory than the last. You've seen the word "incomprehensible" thrown around in the same paragraph as the phrase "too logical." "Overlong" right next to "doesn't hold his shots long enough," "devoid of wonder" right next to "thought provoking." The reviews themselves are paradoxes, but with a premise this universal and a movie this hyped it's no wonder.

So let's dive in and figure out why there's all this contradiction. Starting with character. Interstellar might look like a story-driven film, but deep down it's character-driven. So a great question here is: are the characters well-defined or flat? Read any review of this film and you'll be barraged with the answer to this question: they are 1-dimensional, cardboard, uninteresting, pick your adjective. And it's true, but...

Archetypal characters really work in sci-fi epics. There's just enough of a motivation and a perspective for each character so that it's believable but not distracting. It's the most efficient way to get at the central questions that plague humanity, questions that sci-fi was created to ask.

"Don't judge me," Mann says, "you were never tested like I was. Few men have been." Is every person capable of evil? Do we love only to survive? These are great questions, illustrated well in this film by simplistic characters. The only problem is that Nolan sometimes goes about asking these questions in a lengthy and mathematical-sounding way. To some it may sound insincere, condescending, even offensive. Like, "how dare you reduce my humanity, all my love and my beliefs down to ones and zeroes?" And I get this reaction.

The thing is, science tells us we are nothing more than biological machines. Maybe there is an equation for everything...including love. How can we possibly know? Isn't it this film's job to ask this question? Sure it sounds sappy on the surface when Brand says "maybe love is a universal constant," but I'd argue that stems from a mis-interpretation. Was her speil a little forced? Yeah. But that's the only issue with it.

All of this was to illustrate that, setting aside science for a second, the film doesn't really stumble on any thematic level.  In fact, when these themes are set against the backdrop of this film...

And this happening...

...they start to resonate pretty deeply. There is a lot of sci-fi hocus-pocus, but it's considerably well-thought-out. It keeps you from suspending your disbelief until the last possible second. Takes you to the very edge of your imagination and asks you to leap out into the impossible. It's pretty powerful. It's what science fiction is all about. So to those of you who dislike it for its seemingly endless expository dialogue, I argue that Interstellar wouldn't be nearly as good without that helping hand.

That's why I hate, hate what I'm about to say. Because nothing with so much potential should be ruined by such a startling lack of common sense. There is a great movie within Interstellar, but the one thing that's covering it up: the editing. It makes me so mad.

This is not Inception. There are not multiple storylines on one ticking clock, i.e. a structure that warrants cross-cutting. In fact, Interstellar's story should repel cross cutting. There is a ticking clock, but as much as the characters are preoccupied by it for a time, it ends up mattering dittly-squat. This film explores 5th dimensional travel for christ-sakes. This means that time really shouldn't matter near the end, and the audience should feel it. Case in point: when Cooper falls into the black hole, when his ship is surfing a sea of galaxies, when sparks start to fly out of the blackness and Cooper  is about to experience something no man has or will ever see, the film cuts away to Tom and Murph.........for 10 seconds.

Pictured: my evaporating sense of wonder

We then cut back to Cooper and finally get to see what is inside the black hole. But while it's amazing, and it kind of is I guess, it's just too late. Then the intercutting continues! A lot of it makes no sense, most of it is unnecessary, and all of it does the film a great disservice. It's like if you died and realized heaven was real but were too worried about running out the parking meter outside the coffee shop you just died in to appreciate it. Sorry about the graphic metaphor, but I really can't go on about this enough.

It makes me want to cry dusty, manly McConaughey tears.

As for the rest of the film, scientific problems are of course abound (though Nolan knows it and stretched reality for a reason), amazing shots aren't composed all that well or held long enough, the film is virtually colorless, Cooper somehow forgets about Tom during his happy ending(s), etc. But that editing stood out as wrong. And you don't see that a lot.

Maybe a little more (film) theory would have done Interstellar a lot of good.

No. 1 out-->

Edit 1: Here's this article that pokes a lot of holes in the film's science. Please note the author's misuse of the word "plot hole." These are actually nit-picks, factual errors, albeit large ones that can tear the film apart if you let them. In my opinion, all of this outcry is due to the film's realistic tone and sense of grandeur, and has nothing to do with a demand for true-to-life science in movies, but oh well. If you're into that kind of thing then it's worth a read.

Edit 2: I purposefully stayed away from the gender politics in this film because I don't feel super confident talking about it. Was going to link to something good when I found it, and I've found it.

A LETTER TO J.J. ABRAMS (PART 1)

This post is about Star Wars. What's this doing as the first post on a Star Trek-themed blog, you ask? Well, just to clear things up, the theme means nothing. I'm a fan of Star Trek, but I'm certainly not a trekkie, have never been a trekkie, and am not even sure if "trekkie" is the correct term anymore. This blog will be about many things, and sure, Star Trek may be one of them, but it is certainly not the focus. Granted in case there is a connection, but it's a weak one. If the title doesn't give it away, well, I'll explain soon.

This essay is not a letter in the strictest sense but more of an attempt to analyze the Star Wars franchise - and of course its new director -  as a whole. But since one could quite literally write a masters thesis on the subject (and no I have not read that whole thing, did you see how long that is?), I have chosen to focus my analysis and break it up into just 3 parts. That's right, just 3. Part 1 will be a preface and selection of one of the films to analyze, Part 2 an exploration of why that film is good or bad as a story and how it might have been better, and Part 3 an explanation of why I'm afraid for the future of Star Wars. Buckle in.

Preface

Let's be clear that I am a human with opinions, and by no means purport to have the best or most right opinion, because what follows is not meant to be a list of opinions. I say this not to exempt myself from criticism, but in hopes to situate this conversation - and that's what it will hopefully be - within the realm of semi-scholarly analysis, for the simple reason that one's opinion of some thing need not line up with one's reasoned judgement of that same thing. Therefore, for the sake of productive discussion, this essay is only concerned with the latter. Furthermore, I am aware that much of this might come off as an attempt to "re-invent the wheel," but it's really meant to provide a backdrop from which to launch a more constructive and focused discussion.

As another preface, I did not grow up with the original Star Wars trilogy. I grew up with the prequels, and I loved them at the time...when I was 11. But with age comes a deeper understanding, and after immersing myself in film studies throughout college and graduate school I have certainly come to one. But instead of declaring my younger self's opinion bad, I want to touch on why it was right for me at the time. To me this feels like a much more interesting angle, and I believe it's one that gets us closer to understanding how these films are so deceptive in their badness. And make no mistake, beneath all the attractive tangible details...

Like I said, attractive.

...are 3 very poorly constructed scripts. There is a lot of this going on in Hollywood right now, the prime example (no pun intended) being Transformers, and one need only look at the box-office numbers from those films to see that we as a moviegoing public can't help but fall for this type of trickery. We live in a time of "shit polishing" when it comes to filmic storytelling, and we shamelessly eat that shit up and oftentimes don't realize it's shit. We fall for the special effects, the high-concepts, the larger-than-life imagery, what-have-you. But while the prequels are deceptively bad for all of these reasons, I would argue that their most deceptive quality is, well, their Star Wars-ness. The new Trek films, too, benefit a great deal from their them-ness. But I'll get to that.

So what makes a script bad? Because it's not enough to say something is bad and move on. The "why" is critical, and a surprising amount of the time it goes unasked. The average viewer's idea of what's bad usually stems from an innate sense that something was just not right, something is just rubbed them the wrong way, but they are seldom equipped with the analytical tools necessary to articulate their opinion clearly and effectively. Therefore the "why" is generally avoided in favor of a more simple, time-saving approach, which frequently begets more opinion shouting and misplaced anger (see: definition of Internet). On top of this there is just so much going on within this series to distract from the real problems. Now, I admit that I am guilty of this critical blasphemy from time to time, and by no means profess to be or particularly literate or articulate (see: that unfortunate rhyme), I just enjoy writing about this stuff. If you want easily-digestible yet thorough-as-heck essays on film semiotics and theory, check out the phenomenal essays of Film Crit Hulk or any critic, really. Roger Ebert's pretty great.

Right, so a bad script. For the sake of this discussion, let's just say that a bad script is one with a plot that does not follow a cause & effect structure (more in terms of character logic than anything else, although general believability matters too), and contains poorly defined, often contradictory characters, or characters who essentially become slaves to the demands of the story. While this is by no means extensive, I think we can all agree that films which make these mistakes are generally pretty bad. In any case, when talking about Star Wars this definition, which is more of a distinction, is all we need. And all we really need to demonstrate it is one relationship within one film in the prequel trilogy. After all, they were all made by the same guy, a guy who for all intents and purposes can be considered an auteur. So let's extrapolate. And also compare with the original trilogy, which most agree contains solid, classical, effective storytelling, except for a few moments I'm not going to go near. It connected with people, whereas the prequels, individually and as a whole, did not. And as far as films are concerned, it's my humble yet by no means unique opinion that this is the only difference that really matters. Focusing on anything else would be as hollow an endeavor as George Lucas's endless tampering with his old films. It would just miss the point.

These are not the points you're looking for.

With all that crap in mind, let's dive in. I've chosen to examine Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (ROTS) and focus on the relationship between the titular characters Obi-Wan and Anakin. Within this discussion, I hope to explain why it doesn't work, how it could have worked, and how J.J. might get it all right but still fuck up. If all this just seems tedious, don't worry, I plan to get into specifics. Real specifics.

So Why ROTS?

Simply put, ROTS is the moment where all the mistakes from the previous two films come together to form one giant impossible-to-fix clusterfuck. All narrative threads intersect and all questions are answered (for better and worse).  It is also supposed to be the most dramatic and cathartic installment in the series. By all accounts it should be epic and fantastic, Instead, it is mind-bogglingly dull and collapses under it's own weight. More to the point, this glaring evidence of "shit, we really didn't think this through well enough, did we?" is symptomatic of the series as a whole. Poor George just makes it up as he goes along, and his movies pay the price.

So what happens in ROTS? Despite what I just said up there, not a whole heck of a lot goes on. The covered-ground is mostly at the character-level, and whooo-boy is there a lot of it, and it's all within one character: Anakin. Just for a quick summary, we have the Jedi going after General Grievous, Anakin getting prophetic visions of Padme dying while giving birth to their child, Anakin being seduced by the Dark Side via Chancellor Palpatine and the promise of preventing Padme's death, Obi-Wan fighting General Grievous, the Jedi-order being exterminated by its own Clone Army, Yoda fighting the Emperor, Obi-Wan fighting Anakin, and Anakin becoming Darth Vader. That may sound like a lot, but it all revolves around one thing: Anakin going from very good Jedi to very bad Sith Lord more or less solely within ROTS's 2-and-a-half hour running time. Really, everything else is just filler and ultimately inconsequential. Here's the problem: when your movie hinges on one character's very large dramatic arc, it's going to be unstable, and when that arc is executed poorly, or in such a way that it doesn't ring true, well, then you have yourself this fucking movie.

And some things you can't un-see.

So why doesn't it work, smarty-pants, and how do you propose it could have been better? Well, I'm glad you asked! But in order to continue, to yourself a favor and watch these videos (Episode I, Episode II).

All done? Good. Because what follows is more or less an offshoot of those videos, which I'm not alone in thinking are very well made. Regardless of whether or not you agree with their specific direction, the sentiment, I believe, is right on the money. You'll notice that this guy hasn't made a "What if Episode III were good?" video yet, and hopefully you understand why: since he basically re-wrote Episode II, he has to re-create Episode III from scratch. I don't even have to try (even though I'm going to) to know that's no easy task. He gets a lot of flack for not following up for the simple reason that many people outside the business of storytelling underestimate how soul-crushingly hard it is to tell even a simple story, not to mention the third freakin' Star Wars prequel, one of the biggest films ever made. Even though it was the least expensive of the prequels, the stakes were so damn high, within the film and in real life. If he could write it that quickly he would be off making his own films. And he probably is anyways. Because what good does it do to dwell on the past? To try to fix the unfixable? Fiddle-sticks, what am I doing here again?

Whatever. Engage!

TO BE CONTINUED...