SOME SURPRISES IN THAT GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY

By A. O. SCOTT
The New York Times, 5/16/05

With "Episode III - Revenge of the Sith," the "Star Wars" cycle at last comes to an end - or rather to a middle, since the second trilogy, of which this is the final installment, comes before the first in faraway-galaxy history even though it comes later in the history of American popular culture. Like many others whose idea of movies was formed by (and to some extent against) the galactically later, terrestrially earlier "Star Wars" trilogy, I was disappointed by "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones." So I approached the recent press screening of "Episode III" in New York warily, and perhaps a little wearily, though to balance my own trepidation I brought along two fans whose enthusiasm in 2005 easily matched my own in 1977, when I was a little older than they are now and when "Star Wars" - oh, all right, "Episode IV - A New Hope" - landed in my hometown.

I was anticipating, at least, a measure of relief: finally, this extravagant, ambitious enterprise, a dominant fact of our collective cultural life for nearly 30 years, would be over. But I was hoping, a little anxiously, for more. Would George Lucas at last restore some of the old grandeur and excitement to his up-to-the-minute Industrial Light and Magic? Would my grown-up longing for a return to the wide-eyed enthusiasm of my own moviegoing boyhood - and my undiminished hunger for entertainment with sweep and power as well as noise and dazzle - be satisfied by "Revenge of the Sith"?

The answer is yeth.

This is by far the best film in the more recent trilogy, and also the best of the four episodes Mr. Lucas has directed. That's right (and my inner 11-year-old shudders as I type this): it's better than "Star Wars."
"Revenge of the Sith," which had its premiere here yesterday at the Cannes International Film Festival, ranks with "The Empire Strikes Back" (directed by Irvin Kershner in 1980) as the richest and most challenging movie in the cycle. It comes closer than any of the other episodes to realizing Mr. Lucas's frequently reiterated dream of bringing the combination of vigorous spectacle and mythic resonance he found in the films of Akira Kurosawa into American commercial cinema.

To be sure, some of the shortcomings of "Phantom Menace" (1999) and "Attack of the Clones" (2002) are still in evidence, and Mr. Lucas's indifference to two fairly important aspects of moviemaking - acting and writing - is remarkable. Hayden Christensen plays Anakin Skywalker's descent into evil as a series of petulant bad moods. Natalie Portman, as Senator (formerly Queen) Padmé Amidala, to whom Anakin is secretly married, does not have the range to reconcile the complicated and conflicting demands of love and political leadership. Even the more assured performers - Samuel L. Jackson as the Jedi master Mace Windu, Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jimmy Smits as Senator Bail Organa (note the surname) - are constrained by their obligation to speechify. Mr. Lucas, who wrote the script (reportedly with the uncredited assistance of Tom Stoppard), is not one to imply a theme if he can stuff it into a character's mouth. Ian McDiarmid, as Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, who transforms from a rancid political hack into a ruthless totalitarian before our eyes, gives the most powerful performance; Yoda, the spry green Jedi master voiced by Frank Oz, some of his finest work in this film does. (R2-D2 is also in fine form).

Anyway, nobody ever went to a "Star Wars" picture for the acting. Even as he has pushed back into the Jedi past, Mr. Lucas has been inventing the cinematic future, and the sheer beauty, energy and visual coherence of "Revenge of the Sith" is nothing short of breathtaking. The light-saber battles and flight sequences, from an initial Jedi assault on a separatist stronghold to a fierce duel in the chambers of the Senate, are executed with a swashbuckling flair that makes you forget what a daunting technical accomplishment they represent. Some of the most arresting moments are among the quietest - an evening at home with the Skywalkers, for example, as they brood and argue in their spacious penthouse overlooking a city skyline set aglow by the rays of the setting sun, or a descent into the steep, terraced jungle landscape of the Wookiee planet. The integration of computer-generated imagery with captured reality (in other words, what we used to call movies) is seamless; Mr. Lucas has surpassed Peter Jackson and Steven Spielberg in his exploitation of the new technology's aesthetic potential. Even the single instance where the effects don't quite work - a climactic battle superimposed on a filmed eruption of Mount Etna - suggests not a failure of vision but a willingness to try what may not yet quite be possible.

But every picture, however ravishing, needs a story, and the best way to appreciate how well this one succeeds is to consider the obstacles it must surmount in winning over its audience. First of all, though there are a few surprises tucked into the narrative (which I won't give away), everybody knows the big revelation of the end, since it was also the big revelation at the end of the previous trilogy: Darth Vader is Luke's father. We also know, for the most part, which of the major figures are going to survive the various perils they face. So an element of suspense is missing from the outset.

More than that, the trajectory of the narrative cuts sharply against the optimistic grain of blockbuster Hollywood, in that we are witnessing a flawed hero devolving into a cruel and terrifying villain. It is a measure of the film's accomplishment that this process is genuinely upsetting, even if we are reminded that a measure of redemption lies over the horizon in "Return of the Jedi." And while Mr. Christensen's acting falls short of portraying the full psychological texture of this transformation, Mr. Lucas nonetheless grounds it in a cogent and (for the first time) comprehensible political context.

"This is how liberty dies - to thunderous applause," Padmé observes as senators, their fears and dreams of glory deftly manipulated by Palpatine, vote to give him sweeping new powers. "Revenge of the Sith" is about how a republic dismantles its own democratic principles, about how politics becomes militarized, about how a Manichaean ideology undermines the rational exercise of power. Mr. Lucas is clearly jabbing his light saber in the direction of some real-world political leaders. At one point, Darth Vader, already deep in the thrall of the dark side and echoing the words of George W. Bush, hisses at Obi-Wan, "If you're not with me, you're my enemy." Obi-Wan's response is likely to surface as a bumper sticker during the next election campaign: "Only a Sith thinks in absolutes." You may applaud this editorializing, or you may find it overwrought, but give Mr. Lucas his due. For decades he has been blamed (unjustly) for helping to lead American movies away from their early-70's engagement with political matters, and he deserves credit for trying to bring them back.

But of course the rise of the Empire and the perdition of Anakin Skywalker are not the end of the story, and the inverted chronology turns out to be the most profound thing about the "Star Wars" epic. Taken together, and watched in the order they were made, the films reveal the cyclical nature of history, which seems to repeat itself even as it moves forward. Democracies swell into empires, empires are toppled by revolutions, fathers abandon their sons and sons find their fathers. Movies end. Life goes on.