How I’d Fix Star Wars

If you trace back through the official cannon of the Star Wars timeline, you may recall that the saga concluded when  Lando Calrissean swooped in and demolished the second Death Star and ridded the galaxy of a tyrant.  You could argue that it was a metaphor for the turning tildes brought about by the prequels to follow.  In this case, the Death Star is Star Wars, which George Lucas labored for decades to build only to — with one perfectly aimed shot — start a chain reaction that lead to its ultimate destruction.  OK, maybe that’s too harsh. 

Regardless how you might appraise the current status of the galaxy far, far away, Disney has promised to restore the once heralded sci-fi opus to its former glory (and justify its hefty $4 billion investment).  The chain of announcements have been greeted with a mix of hurrahs — and ambivalence.  Nerds decried the studio’s choice of J.J. Abrams because…he has already captained the Enterprise for that other sci-fi saga.  Yet, it would seem most fans welcomed the return of Luke, Leia, and even Han, despite that fact that 30 years have brought about the aging process.  For example, Ford has shifted from a dependable leading man into a cankerous, lifeless dullard.  He literally screams grandfather on the verge of Alzheimer’s who bitches about constantly misplacing the TV remote.  Fisher no longer services our masturbatory fantasies, but resembles our grandmother. 

Despite all of the heartache and whirlwind of feelings; worries that the saga has bypassed its resuscitation period, there remains a new hope that this trilogy will rekindle our love for of all things Jedi and Wookies.  In order to restore Star Wars, there simply must be both concessions and imitations of the original trilogy (1977-1983).

First, Mark Hamill has made it plain that his heroic Luke Skywalker will not be the main attraction of episodes 7-9, but will serve as a supporting player meant to usher in a new cast.  For Han, Luke, and Leia to serve a story, the story must incorporate the decades that has passed since they last donned blasters and lightsabers.  Hamill, who did a remarkable job transforming from a doe-eyed farmer boy into a mature, wise, Jedi Knight, should tackle a mentor role akin to Obi Wan. 

But I’d go further.  Why not make Luke the main antagonist?  Perhaps turn Luke into a Master of Evil — unable to avert the same errors as his father, who did so even under the scrupulous gaze of Obi Wan and a thousand Jedi Knights.  Turning Luke evil would serve as a tremendous plot point and imbue the newest saga with the ultimate sense of irony and tragedy.

Leia, who was revealed to be Luke’s brother and an obvious heir to the Jedi principles, would serve as an ideal trainer in her own right.  A remarkable twist and fresh take would have Leia transition from Princess/politician into a Jedi Master, who would act as the fresh protaginists’ mentor.  How many times has a woman served as a the wise counselor? 

The most difficult would be Han, who would likely serve as a leading political enactor in, presumably, the New Republic.  Having a geriatric Han don the vest and blast-in-holster would present the larger challenge.  However, seeing Ford present Han in a even larger rougher-around-the-edges persona would be the most obvious character element and the least challenging for Ford, who, let’s face it, probably wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The original Star Wars saga based its core story around three principal characters engaged in an epic struggle.  Despite the introducing a slew of fresh characters, the story remained fixated on them and their development within the grander scheme.  The prequels attempted to engage us to a younger Obi Won, Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Padme, but the story became convoluted with other elements to deterred from the romance, such as endless discussions between lifeless Jedi Council members and — even worse, politicians engaged in Senate debates. 

Let’s compare brief scenes when the audience is provided lots of information.  There’s the original saga’s battle strategy sequences in which we, the audience and cast, are presented schematics and plans for engaging in the destruction of their respective Death Stars.  In both cases, the attention remains focused on Luke, Leia and Han.  The sequence shows their reactions (Luke’s serious attentiveness, Han’s bemused doubt).  It presented character on top of pertinent plot details.  The prequels, however, presented blank stares from the principals — as if they’re just as eager to adjourn the long-winded debates as much as the audience. 

The prequel trilogy removed most of the magic and mystery.  Rather than reflect on a once great Jedi society and the “more civilized age”, we were thrown point-blank into it — and the actual world was not what we imagined it to be.  In order to restore Star Wars, J.J. Abrams and crew must reconnect audiences to the awe and wonder of a galaxy far, far away.  There must be mysteries — things better left unsaid.  The biggest challenge facing the sequels while finding a balance point that catches us with up with the characters without turning episode 7 into one long recantation of thirty years of backstory.  Abrams has demonstrated a competent balance action and character.  He allows second-hand characters to pop in and serve a purpose rather than striving very hard to justify their involvement.  (Case in point, Jimmy Smits.)

J.J. Abrams also seems to understand some of the reservation elements as demonstrated in his 2009 version of Star Trek.  For example, when the Enterprise arrives late to engage the evil threat, they witness the horrible aftermath of a great battle.  We see an infinite array of wrecked star ships and debris.  Abrams wisely avoids showing the fight, but instead let’s us glimpse at the destruction, which leaves a haunting sense of menace and danger.  It mirrors the same moment when Luke and Han arrive to Alderaan only to see it has been demolished.  There’s also the great reveal when Han, Leia and Chewie are greeted by Darth Vader in Cloud City. 

Of course, the original Star Wars saga remains a classic, not because of its dazzling effects, action sequences or space battles, but because the characters came to life and mythos stayed with us even as technologies advanced.  The biggest folly of the prequels have been their core: the script.  There is not ONE single line the rings in our conscience; not one potent quip that echoes the staying power as much as “Do, or do not, there is no try”.  You get the sense that George Luca’s prequels scripts are merely serviceable to push the plot forward, to unveil the magical qualities of his ILM team.  Despite the massive success of New Hope, Lucas wisely kept the human elements intact in the sequel.  Some of the greatest moments are between Mark Hamill and a puppet — no special effects (other than the puppet). 

One of the biggest debacles of the prequels has been the mishandling of John Williams’ brilliant score.  The prequels lacks the same emotional gravity, mainly due to the underwritten character arcs.  However, you get a sense that Williams is writing music no longer tied within the confines of the Star Wars universe.  For example, if you listen to the original Star Wars soundtracks, each presents a unique series of cues and emotional weight.  Williams invested many cues from themes, such as Luke and Leia and retreaded on it to remind us — consciously or not — how the scenes connect to earlier phases in the story.   

The prequels, on the other hand, do not contain the same level of uniqueness.  Each prequel film contains at least one brilliant orchestration (Duel of the Fates from Episode 1, Battle of the Heroes and Anakin’s Betrayal in Episode 3).  However, there is a repetition to each, whereas the music used for Luke’s two separate confrontations with Darth Vader present a more unique sound that perfectly captures the disparate emotion involved.  The prequels have a sense of deja vu, whereas the earlier installments did not. 

J.J. Abrams announced that Williams would return to the third trilogy.  He remains a maestro of the medium, the man who gave soul to the saga.  And I believe he’s reached his peak and that it’s time for him to pass the baton to Abrams’ regular musical scribe, Michael Giacchino.  To me, Michael would imbue the saga with a fresh coat of musical paint and resurrect the soul that was clearly lacking from Williams’ last three films. 

For episodes 7, 8, and 9 to be successful, Abrams must recognize that the original trilogy served well by its limitations.  It remained true to an undying philosophy that good triumphs over evil; that love and friendship permeates even within the dark, empty void of space; that our imaginations remains the purest, most ultimate special effect; and that a good tale that reaches in the crevices of our soul make all of the remaining imperfections feel irrelevant.  Also, removing any trace of kid actors or racial stereotypical aliens wouldn’t hurt.  Regardless, these underlying principals may save Star Wars. 

J.J., heed my advise and help bring balance to the Force.  Live Long and Prosper!  (Yes, nerds, there’s enough room for both sci-fi sagas!)