1999 was a year for Star Wars fans that many thought would never arrive.
A few years earlier we had been presented with, or had foisted upon us, the Original Trilogy special editions which, for many people, was the first opportunity to see our beloved franchise in the cinema.
For me, having had the brilliance to be born in the release year of our Lord George Lucas, 1977, I was taken to a triple feature upon the opening of Return of the Jedi in 1983 by my frankly brilliant mum, so the ‘97 specials were not my first rodeo.
However, it wasn’t just shonky CG additions those films birthed, it was George’s creative impetus to do what he’d always threatened; make the whole bloody saga.
And so it was that a wildly excited young man went on a first date with his future wife to see Episode 1: The Phantom Menace full of hope and expectation.
I didn’t move out of my seat for the entirety of the end credits and for a little while longer as the lights came up, frozen in deep, crushing, soul destroying disappointment. My wife says to this day that she feels bad – she had seen a dodgy pirate VHS the week before and knew what was coming, but being the all-round wonderful human being she is didn’t want to rain on my parade (or piss on my chips if you’re from the same place as us). She says my face was a study of sadness.
Turns out I wasn’t alone and as days became weeks became months then years, the disappointment of the people turned to rage and simmered along for what seemed like forever. Episodes 2 and 3 did little to quell the mob, and such became modern Star Wars fandom, no small thanks to the emerging internet.
Now I cannot lie and say that I wasn’t part of the pile on. I decried George and cursed him for “ruining” MY franchise. And so it was, until it wasn’t.
There are a couple of things that I think could be given credit for things changing: the release of the original trilogy on DVD with a new documentary; the passage of time; a new generation finding the franchise; and first-time around fans having children who became Star Wars fans themselves. Some of these things may have happened to you. All of them happened to me, but something else also occurred as I got older and delightfully cantankerous.
There is nothing more powerful in cultural circles than perceived wisdom, and it can become perceived fact before you know it. In the world of popular music, the perceived wisdom of the adolescent music “expert” is that Ringo was a bad drummer, “not even the best drummer in the Beatles” was what you’d often hear. That’s patently false and as you grow older and wiser you come to understand that Ringo is the greatest feel drummer of all time.
In terms of cinema, a common one is that Godfather 3 is a terrible film. It’s not. It’s actually really great, and tragic, and wonderful. Yes, it has a couple of scenes where there is some acting that is objectively bad, but it’s fleeting and doesn’t affect the whole. I also cannot resist including in my rejection of cinematic perceived wisdom, the much maligned Alien 3. This might be a bit more subjective and a thesis for another time, but Fincher made a character driven masterpiece full of wonderful characters actors and a brilliant last act. I’ll argue that toss all day, but in terms of this overall point, it’s a valid example.
I would never, in a million years, have entertained the idea that I’d describe the hatred for the prequels as incorrect perceived wisdom, until I did two things; firstly, I took my son and his friend to see Episode 1, and secondly, I watched the sequel trilogy.
The mixture of disappointment and disdain that the sequel trilogy inflicted on me is a story for another day. It’s an argument that needs room to breathe, save to say that I was frustrated in the extreme. For now, and for the purposes of this particular examination of Star Wars fandom, we will leave it at that.
The single moment that loosened the lid on my journey to prequel apology was when the 3D release of Phantom Menace hit cinemas. I am not exactly sure of the timeline but I think my oldest son was ten or so when it came out, and I was somehow dragooned into taking him and a friend along.
I hate 3D. It’s a dreadful gimmick used by weak filmmakers to compensate for lack of creativity. And the era of 3D conversions was a dark time in film history, a bandwagon that led to fuzzy, dark prints of otherwise decent movies filmed with normal cameras, subsequently ruined by studio executives. So this baggage combined with the above pre existing feelings about Episode 1 meant I was less than excited at the prospect of sitting through it again.
I can’t remember a great deal about that evening apart from two moments. The second was the obvious brilliance of The Dual of the Fates. No matter how curmudgeonly you are, it’s fantastic. But it was earlier in the film that the tide turned. For the duration of the pod racing scene my son and his friend were quite literally bouncing about with excitement. They were transported, absolutely enthralled with the whole sequence, cheering and whooping and just having a ball. That’s when it all hit me; this is Star Wars.
It’s supposed to be fun, not poured over and analysed in minute detail by spoiled man-babies. It’s about the joy of childhood, of a six year old watching the speeder bike chase on Endor for the first time open mouthed. About cheering when the good guy wins and feeling sad when your heroes do. Could it be as simple as that? Yes, yes it could.
Once you get over yourself, (and the internet) you can really see the prequels for what they are. Yes, they are flawed, and yes there is some dialogue that could have done with another pass and the odd line reading that’s a tad weak. But when you zoom out and look at the story and the universe building and, crucially, the lack of pretension, they really are brilliant examples of sci fi action. The DVD releases were great, with Revenge of the Sith in particular having a brilliant making-of documentary. They are, and here’s the bit I thought I’d never admit, very watchable. And compared to the sequel trilogy they are Citizen f**king Kane. But I digress.
When you listen to the incomparable Dave Filoni on the subject and watch the rather brilliant ILM documentary series, you really get a perspective on the prequels that was missing for years. The “they didn’t care about the fans” trope or “they’ve ruined the original trilogy” line become so obviously false to the point of stupidity. George’s particular perspective on the whole bru ha ha is a wonderful lesson in not listening to the worst of humanity when it comes to artistic expression. Turns out he actually knew what he was doing.
So as unfashionable as it may be, I am now a prequel trilogy apologist. It’s a complete reversal on a once staunchly-held belief. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s wisdom earned through experience, maybe it’s those sequels, more likely it’s a combination of everything. So if you, like me, we’re frothing at the mouth in 1999, maybe have another look and appreciate what George did for us all.
That, and probably just lighten up.
[We’ll await your article U-turning on the sequel trilogy in another 10 years or so -Ed]