Same old Sith

What's not to love about light sabers, wookies and a brutal sendup of George W. Bush? Plenty! But that doesn't mean "Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith" will disappoint legions of Lucas fans.

By Stephanie Zacharek

May 18, 2005 | For years fans of the "Star Wars" series have been trying to convince us nonbelievers -- and, to an extent, themselves -- that George Lucas is a genius whose work plumbs deep universal themes, a fact that would be self-evident if only we'd accept Joseph Campbell as our personal Lord and savior. Somehow, a series that began as an enjoyable tongue-in-cheek amusement has turned into a runaway train wreck of convoluted yet facile mythology, one that inexplicably invites, but can't support, constant defense as a serious work. It's not enough that the "Star Wars" movies are the work of an occasionally clever but mostly simple-minded auteur-wannabe; they've also been hijacked by zealots who insist on assigning weight and meaning to every idiotic frame, spoiling the fun even for average moviegoers who simply have a nostalgic fondness for the original trilogy.

The release of "Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith" marks the beginning of a new era: one in which there are no more "Star Wars" movies to look forward to, or to dread. If you've read anything at all about this new "Star Wars" picture, you've probably heard that it's a scathing indictment of the Bush administration, complete with a power-hungry villain who overrides the Senate willy-nilly in his megalomaniacal quest to control the Galactic Empire. Stop the presses: George Lucas has had a thought! All this time we thought he was interested only in swinging around his mighty light phallus -- uh, saber -- and writing dialogue like "Remember what you told me about your mother -- and the Sand People."

Fans of the light-saber stuff and "You're soaking in it!" dialogue won't be disappointed by "Revenge of the Sith" -- there's plenty of both. But before we all hail George Lucas for raising the level of political discourse in American cinema (and on that score, the accolades have already begun to roll in), let's remember that all of the "Star Wars" movies -- even the genuinely superb "The Empire Strikes Back" -- have a relatively simple piece of rhetoric as their backbone: Good must triumph over evil.

There's nothing inherently wrong with that as a theme for a series of fantasy movies. But it's much too simplistic to be taken seriously as a political statement. And it's the kind of oversimplification that plagues both sides of the current political divide. Neither of the Georges -- Lucas or Bush -- seems to realize that a black-and-white ethos is no template for a world that too often includes shades of gray.

But before we talk about that, a few other points: Some critics I know have been asked by their editors not to actually review "Revenge of the Sith." "Just tell people whether or not they should spend their money," the directive goes, a huge victory for critical thought in the media. So some of you may be wondering: Is "Revenge of the Sith" entertaining? Are the action sequences exciting? If I'm a fan of "Star Wars" overall, will I have to force myself to pretend that I like this one, as I did with the wretched "Attack of the Clones," or is there a chance that I may actually have fun this time around? And what the heck happens in this one, anyway?

Last question first: We finally learn exactly how Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) became Darth Vader, after betraying his mentors, Jedi Master Yoda (as always, the voice of Frank Oz, and, as always, a charming presence) and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor, once again valiantly attempting to give a real performance in a picture that has little use for actors). It turns out that Chancellor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid, slapping sleaziness all over his performance with a trowel), who we thought was one of the good guys, is actually a bad guy -- uninterested in democracy, he instead hopes to become the all-powerful dictator of the Galactic Empire. Anakin is, of course, secretly married to former Naboo ruler and current Republic Senator Padmé Amidala (Natalie Portman, in a succession of hairstyles that make her look like a zonked-out '70s supermodel). He returns to the city-planet Coruscant -- he's been fighting the so-called Clone Wars, as well as doing stuff like rescuing Palpatine from the separatist faction that has taken him hostage -- to discover that she's pregnant. "Something wonderful has happened!" she informs him, the doughnuts clamped to either side of her head quivering with hormonal joy.

Next Page: So is Palpatine supposed to be George W. Bush?

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