![]() |
||||||||
|
|
There's a (Digital) Riot Goin' On: Star Wars, Episode II: Attack of the Clones
There is a lot going on in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones. Cluttered with individuals to be connected and situations to be explained, the film seems quite hoisted by its own plotty petard. Artfully nostalgic wipes take you from scene to scene, and place to place, ranging across the planets Coruscant, Naboo, and Tatooine. Characters wearisomely narrate what you've just seen, and all of the action seems slightly slow. But none of what's gone wrong here will matter for fans of the series, because the information doled out here will keep folks buzzing for years. And my oh my, there's just so much of it, including the evolving love story between Jedi-in-training Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) and Senator Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman), formerly Queen of Naboo; occasional pronouncements by Master Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson); increasing ill will between the Republic and the Empire-to-be; evolving tensions between mentor Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) and student Anakin; intermittent nattering by Yoda (voiced by Frank Oz, and now fully digitized rather than even occasionally puppeteered); and the ominous partnership forming between Count Dooku (Christopher Lee) and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine/Sith Lord Darth Sidious (Ian McDiarmid).
And don't forget the armies of droids and clones, the still-horrendous Jar Jar Binks (with his appearance abbreviated, he's now fully digital, and voiced by Ahmed Best), the still-horrendous slave-trader Watto (Andrew Secombe), Anakin's missing mom Shmi (Pernilla August), C-3PO (Anthony Daniels), R2-D2 (Kenny Baker), and the bounty hunter Jango Fett (Temeura Morrison), a.k.a. the father of bounty hunter Boba Fett (Daniel Logan). All are rendered, of course, against impressive special-effects backgrounds and the whole business is shot on high definition DV (Lucas's contribution to pushing mainstream filmmaking technology into the 21st century). And then into the midst of this muddle walks Jimmy Smits, looking for all the world like he is lost and has somehow ended up on the wrong set. In fact, Smits is playing a Senator named Bail Organa, who initially lurks about the edges of a meeting between Mace and Yoda, then lurks about on the edges of a scene with Dooku and his minions. Perhaps he's lurking so much because he's got a larger chunk of screen time coming up in the supposedly even darker chapter to follow, the film where -- as Lucas tells Premiere magazine -- "it really pays off."
This look forward would be similar to the rumor that accompanied Mace/Sam Jackson's appearance in The Phantom Menace, which sort of turned out to be true. Mace does have marginally more to do in Episode II than he did in Episode I, including being the only Jedi knight with a purple light saber. This is a cool and special prop to be wielding, no doubt, and in the Jedi hierarchy it must mean something. But Mace still spends most of his time yakking with Yoda in that weird room where the seats are shaped like giant, squashed bread loaves. And Yoda, bless his greenness, gets most of the close-ups and the stand-out lines, which he speaks with the utmost sincerity while looking up from under his perpetually furrowed brow: "Begun, this Clone War has," as Mace looks on earnestly, his bald pate shining gloriously in the artificial light. If this is the kind of pumped-up role to which Bail/Smits is looking forward, well, let's hope the paycheck is hefty. His warm-up in this film is brief indeed: he utters maybe two-and-a-half sentences over the film's two hours and twelve minutes. Still, it's easy to see why he seems cowed by all the hubbub. As promised, much of this installment lays out just why Anakin will become Darth Vader, a question that has reportedly plagued fans who thought that Episode I didn't set up anything of the sort -- the adorable 9-year-old Anakin (Jake Lloyd), though plenty annoying, was also suitably and childishly pleased to win a speeder race, and apparently this made him look too unlikely to turn so evil.
But in Episode II, the 20-year-old Anakin's motivation finally becomes visible, and visibly complicated: he's impatient with Obi-Wan (who is, oddly, quite the irritating worrywart here, especially given that he's going to grow up to be the supremely unflappable Alec Guiness); attracted to Padmé (and if there's one thing a Jedi knight can never do, it's fall in love like some average human); discovering the vastness of his powers; and perhaps most importantly, looking for his mom some ten years after leaving her behind on Tatooine in order to go train with the Jedi he continually bristles beneath. This complication is the new film's best point, suggesting as it does that irregular types, whom the majority of any given population deems "evil" (as in, born that way), do have reasons of their own for doing what they do, and even think what they're doing is right. Not to say that Episode II is excusing bad behavior, but at least it's allowing that Anakin doesn't self-identify as the meanest and deepest-voiced villain in the universe. At the same time, both the Republic and the Jedi Order come up a little short in the morals department. Some of the decisions by higher-ups are questionable: sending the obviously upsettable Anakin to watch over Padmé when she's hiding from assassins, making Jar Jar a substitute Senator during her absence, and remaining ignorant (whether willfully or not is so far unclear) of oppressive policies and activities being carried out under their apparent auspices. This last has to do with the clone army's development: given the political and moral complexities of cloning technology, the Republic's hands-off attitude here seems strange at best (the common wisdom is that the clones are being generated for the Republic's "greater good"). Creating -- or purchasing -- a race of people for the purpose of fighting robot armies hardly seems the most ethical or even economical way to go. If the bad guys can build robots, why can't the good guys?
At the same time as Obi-Wan is investigating this shift in the Republic's plans for the future (and Lucas persists with the ham-handed editing for which he has become famous), Padmé and Anakin are left to their own devices in Naboo's Edenic, sunlit fields, where they run in the breeze and loll about like they're in a Breck shampoo commercial. This shorthand for romance hardly explains or makes much sense of Padmé's interest in the pouty youngster, but she insists she's loved him since she first saw him back in Episode I (when he was a less-ripe age 9). They kiss, he frets, then she agrees to help him find his mother who has been kidnapped by Tuscan "raiders" back on Tatooine. Given the incessant -- and yes, "mythological" -- father-son anxieties that structure the Star Wars movies, Anakin's concern for Shmi might seem a welcome change in focus. But it's a brief distraction, and her completely melodramatic death (she hangs on just long enough to gaze into his eyes and look proud) is merely a device to turn his rage into chilling violence. That you don't quite see him commit this violence against the Tuscans (which he later describes as a massacre) is a cagey choice, as you don't have to make your own peace with his cruelty, as Padmé is able to do (she has her own emotional problems, it seems). That he enacts it against yet another "other" race is not a little tiresome.
Meanwhile, as they say, Anakin's father-figure Obi-Wan is distracted by a thunderstormy rooftop battle with Jango Fett, who turns out to be the major bearer of this installment's father-son drama. As the man in charge of (and model for) the cloning operation, he's adopted one of the little buggers as his son, who will grow up to be Boba. However you might read this rather alarming parent-child situation, it makes the Jedi set-up look relatively healthy. Obi-Wan's good work and inability to reach his student (who's gone off on his mom-finding mission) lead him more or less directly into trouble, that is, into capture by the sinister Dooku. When Obi-Wan is at last reunited with Anakin and Padmé for the film's two-part finale, the particulars of the cloning dilemma dissolve into a more immediate and mundane crisis, namely, the trio is strapped to poles in a gladiatorial arena and beset by huge digital beasties, underlining the brutality of Palpatine, et. al. (this scene includes Smits' Bail for a second or two, so don't blink). The heroes escape and engage in battle, just in time for the armies to show up. And finally, comes the humongous, much-anticipated showdown between the clones and the droids. At this point, all the silliness of the preceding 90 or minutes pales, when the "story," such as it is, gives way to full-blown nonsense: video-gamey explosions, zoomy fighter-ships, and light-saber-bearing Jedi facing off with troops on the ground. Obi-Wan and Anakin leap onto a ship to fly above the fray momentarily, and poor Ewan MacGregor is forced to speak the line that most typifies the dreaded green-screeny performance: "Look over there!" he yells out, presumably pointing at... well, nothing. Cut to whatever it is he's not imagining, and the battle continues to rage. Easily the finest special effect in all this commotion -- Natalie Portman's abs. The girl has worked out to get that look. When the Senator's outfit is ripped (perfectly, so as to expose just the right amount of skin and no more) during the arena scene, she looks magnificent, like she could be Leia's mom, after all. It's only too bad that she has too hook up with that drippy Anakin to do it. Cynthia Fuchs is film-tv-viddy editor at PopMatters.com and Associate Professor of English/Media/African-American studies at George Mason University. |
| ||||||
|
Copyright 2001, Morphizm.com. All Rights Reserved. |
||||||||