We Know When We’ve Been Tango’d
'Guest Post' by Copernicus
Fústar.org was lately memed by freestater who closed his eyes as tight as tight could be, clicked the heels of his dainty red slippers and wished with all his might for a post on why the fourth, first, second and third episodes1 of the Star Wars hexology "suck so badly". Either that or he gave his magic lamp a special rub. Whatever the case, we are here to serve (1 million pop-culture hamburgers and counting).
While I don’t agree that Jedi, the first of the films he mentions, sucks along all that lamely, I guess the one-word answer to part A of his question is "Ewoks". The two word answer is "fucking Ewoks"2. I suppose I could stick in a DVD to find something nice to say, but my bureaucratic overlords in the Civil Service don’t pay me to watch movies and pen pop-culture epistles to my international online brethren (as far as they know at any rate) so I’d better dash this off and get back to work. In any event it, ain’t no Empire as Dante Hicks so eloquently explains in Kevin Smith’s Clerks:
Randal: Which did you like better, Jedi or The Empire Strikes Back?
Dante: Empire.
Randal: Blasphemy.
Dante: Empire had the better ending. Luke gets his hand cut off, finds out Vader is his father, Han gets frozen, taken away by Boba Fett. It ends on such a down note. I mean, that's what life is, a series of down endings. All Jedi had was a bunch of Muppets3.
Amen brother.
There are about a million reasons (many of them pixelated) why the prequels are such a disaster and it is well I remember sitting in a hushed auditorium in Leicester Square being struck, as one slapped in the face with the wet trout of reality, by the antiseptic surfaces and Jar Jar motherfucking Binks of The Phantom Menace, my winsome little expression of delighted expectation becoming a petulant adult scowl as George failed to charm back the luxury of a child’s soul4. But hope dies slow, and I trotted obediently along to Attack of the Clones to make obeisance to the pop-culture gods who have fought for my soul since the 1970s and once again part company with hard-earned cash, much of it won in the teeth of a punitive 42 pence in the pound tax-rate. Does George take socio-economic realities like this into account when imposing his o’erweening and clumsy sensibility on the CGI wizards at Industrial Light and Magic and sticking his pudgy fingers in every pixel pie? It seems not.
For verily, AotC did suck with a vigour equal to Phantom and there, slap bang in the middle of this Candarel ode to the perceived vapidity of Generation Y, was the smoking gun; the ne plus ultra demonstration of how and why the series lost its way and became, simply, a franchised toy advert. The ascendancy of the toys can, of course, be traced back to the original trilogy and probably finds its locus classicus in those pukesome Ewoks, but the glaring horror of which I speak is a computer generated location shoot in a cozy corner of Coruscant called Dex's Diner. That's right, Dex's Diner, a little piece of iconic '50s Americana replete with the greasy-aproned short-order cook, chrome fittings and red vinyl upholstery anyone would expect to find a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Not!
What were they thinking? George may once have been something of a maverick, the auteur in American Graffiti of the celluloid foreshadowing of fare like Richard Linklater's post-modern X-er classic Slacker, but the conventions of popcorn space opera do not admit of deconstructionist experiments with cinema's 'fourth wall'. Lucas may have conceived Dex's as an arch reference to his pop roots and an amusing nod to the fans to let them know he was somehow in there looking out, but we'd had enough illusions shattered that day.
I prefer my disbelief to remain as suspended as Lt. Ellen Ripley's lifesigns during deep space transit for the duration of whatever sci-fi flick I'm watching. But that wouldn't do George. It couldn't have been more jarring5 if he'd appeared on screen himself in his boomer uniform of jeans and red check shirt, dropped his keks and gone for a giant poo all over my childhood6.
Thank you George. Thank you very much.
- The third, fourth, fifth and sixth films in order of execution. [back]
- Welcome Googlers! Alas no scenes of Ewoks in carnal riot here. [back]
- Disclaimer: I actually love Jim Henson's Muppets, but the sentiment will be clear to fústarers. [back]
- Beautifully turned phrase nicked from Advent by Patrick Kavanagh. [back]
- Punning with intent here. [back]
- Fústarers who wish to explore this issue in greater depth will find far more sophisticated expressions of the disappointment engendered by the latter SW trilogy in season 2 of superlative Britcom Spaced and in the South Park episode in which Stan and Kyle go to LA to get their money back from George Lucas. [back]
February 3, 2006
7 responses to We Know When We’ve Been Tango’d
While I could happily sit here and rant on endlessly about the horrors of Jar Jar Binks, the character is involved in one intriguing, significant, and darkly comic turn of events in AotC.
When Padmé is away JJB takes her place as representative for Naboo in the Senate. Clearly a disastrous move, and one that reeks of leaving the Three Stooges in charge of a swanky antiques store etc (“Now don’t break anything boys, I’ll be back in an hour!”).
His first meaningful action is (predictably) a gargantuan howler, as starwars.com explains:
No shit! That decision led, directly, to the clone army and the spectacular galactic tyranny of the Empire. Nice one Jar Jar…
Though one could argue that this incident is meant to illustrate how well-meaning (but gullible) types can be manipulated by ruthless politicians, I can’t help but feel that this might, in fact, be a sly nod to the sizeable Jar-Jar-hating contingent.
“You thought he was bad before? Now look what he’s gone and done!�
Nice one, Jar Jar Stinks.
There’s something in those lifeless goggle eyes that makes me think it was no accident. He’s obviously evil and a fellow-traveller of expansive Statism.
Hallo,
Jar Jar is a prick of the highest order – although the kids love ‘im. Granted, the kids also love Barney and Boyzone so perhaps they should keep their friggin’ opinions to themselves.
As an aside, Fústar, whatever happened to that writeabookinamonth carry on?
foolhardy,
As an answer to your aside, I never followed it through! It fell at the first fence of good intentions…
Two great Spaced moments worthy of mentioning in relation to Jar Jar.
1) Tim [Simon Pegg] is talking down to a small boy in the comic book store about the relative merits of The Phantom Menace in comparison to the old Star Wars films:
You are so blind! You so do not understand! You weren’t there at the beginning, you don’t know how good it was, how important. This is it for you, this jumped up fireworks display of a toy advert. People like you make me sick, what’s wrong with you?! I don’t care if you’ve saved up all your little 50p’s, take your money and GET OUT!!!”
*The kid runs out of the shop, sobbing hysterically…*
Tim: “What a prick.”
and…
2) Bilbo [Bill Bailey]: Remember the Ewoks? They were rubbish! But you don’t complain about them.
Tim: Yeah, but Jarjar makes the Ewoks look like…fucking Shaft!!
Hoho, genius.
Foolhardy, if you look around here very carefully you can follow a trail to two chapters of my chick lit novel on nanowrimo. Right up your particular street.
When Padmé is away JJB takes her place as representative for Naboo in the Senate. Clearly a disastrous move, and one that reeks of leaving the Three Stooges in charge of a swanky antiques store etc (“Now don’t break anything boys, I’ll be back in an hour!”).
JJB, as you say, performs the function throughout the sequels of being the filmmaker’s reliable standbye for introducing peril for our heroes. I would guess that a consistent screwball is imagined to be believable to the audience.
Although I missed the first half of Picard’s Clone (I cannot even summon the interest in this particular film to recall the name) I have long held the suspicion that Riker performs much the same function for the star Trek series. Consider: no movie audience would ever believe that ice-cool Jean Luc could be defeated by an enemy; therefore it falls to a recurring bumbling lackey to put them all in deadly peril in the captain’s absence.
Good points EWI. There was a time when a hero could be flawed. Pace James Bond who usually got in and out of trouble on the basis of blind luck. Much more fun.