Expanded Mythopoeia:
A Detailed Analysis in Defense of Star Wars Episodes I-III

TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. INTRODUCTION
2. GOOD, GOOD, LET THE NERD RAGE FLOW THROUGH YOU
3. STAR WARS: EPISODE I - THE PHANTOM MENACE
4. EXPANDED MYTHOPOEIA
5. STAR WARS: EPISODE II - ATTACK OF THE CLONES
6. THE SITH METAPHOR
7. STAR WARS: EPISODE III - REVENGE OF THE SITH
8. ALLUSIONS & METAFICTION
9. CHARACTER & PLACE NAMES
10. CONCLUSION

INTRODUCTION

Many people talk about the Star Wars prequel trilogy being inferior to the original trilogy, even going so far as to saying Episodes I-III outright "suck". I heard one self-proclaimed fan say, "There are only three Star Wars movies as far as I'm concerned—the prequel trilogy doesn't exist to me." Upon the long-awaited release of Episode I - The Phantom Menace in 1999, professional critical reviews were generally mixed to favourable, with many agreeing that the visuals were spectacular but the characters flat and underdeveloped. Some reviews were negative, but others very positive, such as that of famed critic Roger Ebert who gave the film 3½ stars out of 4 and called it "an astonishing achievement in imaginative filmmaking."

The response from fans was likewise mixed; some were enthused about the new installment and excitedly anticipated Episodes II and III, while others were disappointed. And that disappointment seemed to grow with each successive episode. The once highly loved film series reached a level of mutually assumed disdain in the public consciousness, and it became trendy in mainstream media to talk about how bad the prequels were. A scene from British TV sitcom Spaced showed actor Simon Pegg setting his Star Wars memorabilia on fire, with tears in his eyes, after watching The Phantom Menace. Jokes abounded throughout pop culture, late night talk shows, The Simpsons, and so on. The prequel trilogy's perceived failure seemed to revolve around the character Jar Jar Binks in Phantom, and bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and boring storylines in all three films.

Then in 2012 George Lucas sold the Star Wars rights to Disney, handing the reins to the massive corporation who soon announced their development of Episodes VII-IX. While some Lucas loyalists claimed Disney would ruin the franchise, the prequel-hating bandwagon exploded to an even more ridiculous degree with many saying they couldn't wait for a series renewal after the debacle of I-III. I've always disagreed with these negative critiques of the prequels and have engaged in extensive arguments with the haters, usually to little or no avail—it appears the dark side of the Force has clouded the judgment of many who claim to be fans. To be fair, the prequel films aren't perfect, but neither are Episodes IV-VI.

In regards to Star Wars as a saga, as an epic, continuing story in which each individual film is one chapter—as Lucas has said it is meant to be regarded—I think of myself as a true fan. Of every movie in the series. Yeah, some are better than others. Of course some have greater or fewer high points or low points. But as long as there are aliens, the Force, and countless archetypal characters and mythic storyline details, no Star Wars episode can be wholly bad, in my mind (although we'll see what happens now in this Post-Lucas Disney Era of Star Wars). And sure, as a child of the 1980s I'll always regard the original trilogy as the best of the series, and indeed among my favourite films of all time since I was at an influenceable age when they were released and most prominent in popular culture. But the prequels resonated strongly with me too, released when I was in my twenties. They're not without their flaws, but in some ways they are superior to IV-VI.

GOOD, GOOD, LET THE NERD RAGE FLOW THROUGH YOU

For those who claim to love the original trilogy but hate the prequels, I have a few things to say. Upon the imminent release of Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens, I saw a meme on a friend's Facebook page that made me chuckle. It was a close-up of the Emperor's face from Return of the Jedi, with the words, "Good, good, let the nerd rage flow through you." This encapsulates how I feel about those who claim to be fans of the original series but quickly jumped onto the prequel-hating bandwagon.

I define a nerd as someone who cares passionately about, and places intense focus on, a specific subject. I'm an arts nerd. I love creative expression of all kinds. Generally speaking, I'm mostly a movie, book, and music nerd, and more specifically a HipHop nerd and a science fiction/fantasy nerd. But in the world of nerddom, I'm a nerd-lite. There are a number of subjects that I get excited about and inspired to explore in minute detail, but I also know when I've learned enough and it's time to look at something different. I've seen every Star Wars film multiple times, but I haven't read the novels, comic books, or played the video games—nor do I have any desire to. It's good to be passionate, but I try not to take it too heavily either. That's a good kind of nerd; one who shows fascination with certain subjects but can still keep an open mind to a broad range of interests. But the intensity with which so many people dismiss the prequel trilogy implies an irrational rage that doesn't make sense. That's the bad kind of nerd—one who becomes emotionally distraught because of an overly narrow view of too small a subject, or too few subjects. I mean, I get that if you love something so much (as many do the original trilogy) that you might hate something associated with it (the prequel trilogy) if you view it as having sold out or failed dismally—it's only because you care so much that you hate so much. But at the end of the day, they're only movies, man. Lighten up, you know?

A major reason why I think the prequel-haters feel how they do is that they forget what it's like to be a kid. Most if not all Star Wars fans were kids like me when they saw the originals, and adults when they saw the prequels. George Lucas has said countless times that Star Wars films have always been, first and foremost, kids' movies. Regarding the dialogue being cheesy, the characters flat, etc.—that all exists in the original trilogy movies too (although, granted, to a lesser degree). When we rewatch them as adults we don't usually see it that way though, because our judgment is skewed so strongly by the nostalgia and warm memories of childhood wonder that the films inspire. I was reminded of this when Phantom came out and while most adults were skewering the character of Jar Jar Binks as being irritating, my eight-year-old cousin thought he was hilarious and entertaining. People said similar stuff about the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi—that they were annoyingly cutesy and corny, and geared too much towards a child audience. Well, I was five-years-old when I first saw that movie, and I loved the Ewoks as much as any other character or element of the series. To this day, whenever I rewatch the movie, I don’t see the Ewoks as irritating or cheesy because the good memories and feelings from watching them as a child are so deeply ingrained in me. 

C-3PO, on the other hand, is a character who I never liked, in the originals or the prequels, never found funny or entertaining but rather consistently annoying and hokey—and I think a lot of fans agree with me, adults and kids alike. I just ignored that element in the originals, because there was enough other awe-inspiring stuff to admire. And I feel similarly about Jar Jar in Phantom. So Jar Jar got a bad rap, and likewise the Ewoks did because the films were reviewed by adults. This is also why The Empire Strikes Back is most commonly regarded as the best of the original trilogy—because it's the darkest. It was reviewed by adults, so this makes sense. So yes, of course Star Wars films have a universal appeal, but ultimately they're for kids.

STAR WARS: EPISODE I - THE PHANTOM MENACE

Release Date: May 19th, 1999
Rating (out of 5): ★★★½
Running Time: 133 minutes
Written & Directed by: George Lucas
Starring: Liam Neeson, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, Jake Lloyd, Ray Park, Pernilla August, Ahmed Best, Ian McDiarmid, Anthony Daniels, Kenny Baker, Frank Oz (voice only), Samuel L. Jackson

In regards to Jar Jar—yes, I admit he's far from my favourite element. It's not the inclusion of his character that I find to be a flaw with Phantom, but the excessive inclusion of his character. His presence throughout the film as a continuous source of comic relief is in many instances out of place with the more serious goings-on in the story. And while I admire Lucas's technological achievements in computer-generated imagery, especially groundbreaking in 1999, it isn't seamless enough with Jar Jar or some of the other CGI characters. And Yoda looks wack. He isn't CGI but rather a puppet as he was in Episodes V and VI—but they don't have him right here and he looks weird enough to distract me in every scene he's in. In II and III they switched him to CGI and he looks much better, but still not as good as he was in the original trilogy. The CGI does, however, work spectacularly for the shots of the cities, the worlds, the outerspace action. This is one of the film's strengths, and one way in which it's superior to the original trilogy—the scope of the universe that we're shown is far more vast and grand. But in regards to the computer-generated lifeforms who interact with human actors, it isn't quite tight enough overall and at times serves to continually remind me that I'm watching a movie rather than being completely swept away into the story.

Another flaw is the pacing. For the most part it's pretty good, but I have a little trouble with the long, drawn-out storyline involving the podrace on Tatooine. Don't get me wrong, the podrace itself is an awesome wild ride that had me on the edge of my seat—an all around well-executed, fast-paced action sequence. This is another place where the CGI effects work tremendously well. But the whole ordeal just seems to take a bit too long. I understand that it's an important plot point in how to get Anakin off the planet, and I don't object to the basics of this storyline—but if Lucas had trimmed it down by fifteen minutes or so or integrated it into the other plot details better then it would have felt less out of place in the overall story.

Regarding the haters' comments about the flatness of characters and poor acting, I say this: you watch Star Wars movies for the acting? For complex characters? Rewatch Episode IV and see how cheesy Luke sounds whining on Tatooine about his work duties. Or how melodramatic the love story is between Han and Leia in Empire and Return. But one instance in which I agree the acting is horrendous is Samuel L. Jackson as Jedi Knight Mace Windu. Jackson has given great performances in countless films and I'm a fan of much of his other work, but neither he nor his character have any business being in this movie. I'm not sure what Lucas was thinking on this one. Every line Jackson delivers comes off like he's not even trying to sound convincing, and his character is unnecessary in this film as well as the two that follow. Many criticized Jake Lloyd for playing the young Anakin poorly. Sure, the kid's no superstar child actor, but he did the job. And I can't help thinking about my eight-year-old cousin, and myself as a child, and what a thrill it would be to watch a kid close to my age flying spaceships, podracing, and carrying on with Jedi and droids. That's something the original trilogy never had—child heroes. Liam Neeson, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, and the other supporting actors all do a fine job though, especially Neeson who perfectly displays calm confidence as Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

Lucas was influenced by the space opera genre, comic strips, and TV serials when first conceiving Star Wars. In particular he has cited Flash Gordon films of the 1930s and '40s, that he grew up watching, as a source of inspiration. Over-the-top, melodramatic acting, cheesy dialogue, and simplistic, archetypal characters are common traits of these genres, as in B-movies, soap operas, and much science fiction in general. So to criticize a space opera—which all Star Wars films are—for having bad acting is missing the point. Star Wars isn't about acting—it's about exhilarating action, mindblowing special effects, archetypal characters, mythology, and allegorical storytelling; a creative, philosophical discourse on concepts of family, politics, war, god, religion, fear, and love.

EXPANDED MYTHOPOEIA IN THE PHANTOM MENACE

Regardless of what the naysayers think about The Phantom Menace, it features one of the best lightsaber battles of any Star Wars episode: Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi dually fighting Darth Maul (second perhaps only to Anakin versus Obi-Wan in III). But what I like most about The Phantom Menace, and the prequel trilogy at large, is that the mythology created in the original trilogy is greatly expanded on here. More accurately, the word mythopoeia applies. Mythopoeia is a narrative quality in film and literature in which a fictional mythology is created by a single writer or small group of writers over a relatively short period of time—rather than developing over centuries through oral tradition as does mythology. Authors like J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis cultivated this quality extensively in their epic works about the fictional worlds of Middle-earth and Narnia, respectively. And likewise does George Lucas. Mythological themes and character archetypes first introduced in the original trilogy are developed further in the prequels—but often only subtly, which I admire. Lucas gives us intriguing tidbits to think about without spoiling anything or spoon-feeding us.

Chief amongst the details that enhance Star Wars mythopoeia is the introduction of the Sith. We always knew that the Force had a dark side, but not until Phantom are we told that practitioners of the dark side are called “Sith”, and that there are always only two of them—a master and apprentice. We're also told that the Sith have been extinct for a millennium, and that the Jedi think it impossible for them to have returned without them sensing it. But that's exactly what has happened—the Sith have returned, and with a sly, vengeful agenda that the Jedi can't really see the full scope of, nor understand. It's a perfect metaphor for true evil. All others who may commit acts of evil are not Sith, but rather influenced by them. And the fact that there are only ever two Sith, master and apprentice, is perhaps a metaphor for the persecutor and the persecuted, the abuser and the abused. 

The Sith are the 1%. More specifically, the Master Sith is the 1%, and the Apprentice Sith is the first, most eager follower who completely buys in to the master's lies, and pledges to execute his dirty work at the cost of his own soul. The remaining 99% are the people, alternately good and bad, some of whom buy in at varying degrees to the illusory wizardry that the Sith perpetrate. So within the context of this film, it seems clear that the Sith is the phantom menace that the title refers to. But given Star Wars' tradition of symbolic and allegorical meaning reflected in its stories, as is classic science fiction custom, the Sith represent much more. In this case, the title The Phantom Menace is also referring to capitalism. The 1990s saw the escalation of capitalism accelerate to new heights, with the rise of gargantuan banking superpowers like the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and the World Trade Organization. So it's by no means a stretch to see Phantom's Trade Federation, under guidance and direct orders from the Sith, as a representation of these real life corporate entities. Under the corporate capitalist system, globalization and the power of multinational corporations developed to new extremes in the time that Lucas was writing this film, and so The Phantom Menace is a commentary on and indictment of that very system in which we're all complicit.

In addition to the Sith, another element in Phantom that enriches Star Wars mythopoeia is the introduction of midi-chlorians. This is apparently a detail that the prequel-haters despise, but I've never heard a convincing argument about why. I guess they want the Force to stay more mysterious or something. Described by Neeson's Qui-Gon Jinn as "a microscopic lifeform that resides within all living cells and communicate with the Force...without the midi-chlorians, life could not exist, and we would have no knowledge of the Force. They continually speak to you, telling you the will of the Force." The term midi-chlorians sounds suspiciously like mitochondria, cellular components that act as energy-generators in thousands of lifeforms on Earth, including humans. This similarity in terms is surely no coincidence, and another example of Lucas infusing symbolism and metaphor into his stories. We are told that young Anakin has a record-breaking midi-chlorian count, and that he had no father—invoking, of course, the story of Jesus Christ's immaculate conception—fathered by God himself, as Anakin was fathered by the Force itself. Therefore Anakin is suspected to be the "chosen one" prophesied to bring "balance to the Force".

On a remarkable metafictional note, the adult Anakin is played by Hayden Christensen, whose last name means "Christian" or "Christ" and whose first name means "heathen"—a heathen being commonly defined as someone who doesn't belong to a religion (especially Christianity) and/or one who is a follower of a polytheistic religion or paganism. So "Hayden Christensen" is actually an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms reflected in the name of the very actor who plays the most powerful Jedi and Sith. And indeed, in yet another parallel to the story of Jesus, Anakin/Vader later goes on to sacrifice himself when he defeats the Emperor in VI, saving his own son and in effect the entire universe.

For some the comparison of Anakin to Jesus was too on the nose, too contrived, and his role as the chosen one a cliché. But it actually fits perfectly within the archetypal mythos of the series. Anakin becomes Darth Vader and eventually kills the Emperor, so perhaps it's only a Sith who can kill the Master Sith. And since there are only ever two Sith at once, it must be the apprentice who does the killing. But no apprentice would ever kill his master, unless...he's the chosen one—the one that the midi-chlorians themselves conceived in order to restore balance to the universe by banishing the Sith entity back to the Netherworld forever. Or at least for another thousand years. Maybe that's the timeline of the Sith life cycle, taking one millennium to regenerate before returning as a demon, spirit, parasite entity seeking to attach itself to another organism to execute the destruction of the universe once again. Little is actually revealed to us about the Sith in Phantom, and so, much of what I've just speculated comes from further information about the Sith, midi-chlorians, and the prophecy that is revealed in Episodes II and III. But this is why the prequel trilogy is awesome—the Star Wars mythopoeia that was introduced and developed in the original series is elevated to a far greater, more thought-provoking degree.

The Phantom Menace is not a perfect movie, but it took the franchise in a different direction—as it should be, in my opinion. That's something that some prequel-hating Star Wars fans can't seem to understand; the prequel trilogy is different, for better or worse. And while in some ways worse, in some ways better. Maybe the hater bandwagon wanted three more films closely mirroring the style of the original trilogy, but years had passed and the world had changed, so I admire Lucas for reflecting that in the prequel films. Certainly he made some mistakes in perhaps too ambitiously attempting to update the series, but he made a lot of good choices too. And, for me, enough of the appealing elements of the original series were preserved in these films, while also introducing new, and in many ways richer elements for a new generation, a new century, and a new millennium.

STAR WARS: EPISODE II - ATTACK OF THE CLONES

Release Date: May 16th, 2002
Rating (out of 5): ★★★★
Running Time: 142 minutes
Directed by: George Lucas
Written by: George Lucas & Jonathan Hales
Starring: Hayden Christensen, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, Ian McDiarmid, Samuel L. Jackson, Christopher Lee, Temuera Morrison, Anthony Daniels. Kenny Baker, Jimmy Smits, Frank Oz (voice only) 

Whereas the central storyline of Attack of the Clones is rather complex, its love story subplot is paper-thin and cliché-ridden. This is unfortunate, as I would've hoped that the parents of Luke Skywalker and Leia would've had an absorbing, gut-wrenchingly passionate relationship. But instead it feels tacked on and mailed in. Lucas attempts the much trodden star-crossed lovers route; Anakin is a Jedi, for whom personal romantic relationships are forbidden, and Amidala is a powerful former queen-turned-senator. We've all seen the forbidden love story countless times before, but here it's melodramatic and trite when it should be passionate and romantic. Much of the dialogue between Anakin and Amidala is cheesy and outright laughable at times, such as when Anakin proclaims, "You are in my very soul, tormenting me," or when Amidala says, "I truly, deeply love you—and before we die I want you to know." Lucas has described Attack's love story as "traditional", but it can be a fine line between a story being traditional or classical in a good way, and being formulaic and unoriginal. And here Lucas doesn't tread that line so much as straight up crosses it. What could've been a classic, archetypal romance fails from too many soap opera-style falling-in-love clichés.

There are, however, some smaller yet cool details in Attack of the Clones that deepen the Star Wars mythopoeia from the original trilogy. One such detail is the introduction of Owen Lars and Beru, as young adults, whom we know as Luke's aunt and uncle from A New Hope. Also, we get to see dozens of Jedi in action with lightsabers in one epic battle. This is something I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for, as previously we'd only seen one-on-one lightsaber duels (or two-on-one in the case of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon versus Darth Maul in Phantom), but never before upwards of thirty or more Jedi lightsabering at one time. We also get to see Yoda in action with a lightsaber, whose physical smallness seems less a handicap to his saber skills and more so an asset as he flips around in spasmodic frenzy.

What's best in this film though, and much more complex than in any of the other Star Wars movie before it, is how the mythopoeia is expanded in relation to the greater emergence of the Sith. The surface story involves a plot devised by Sith Lord Darth Sidious to bring down the Galactic Republic and transform the universe from peace to eventual rule by violent, fascist control. As with the love story, we know the outcome from the original series—that is, by Episode IV we know that the peaceful order of the Republic has been overthrown by the oppressive Empire, just as we know that Anakin and Amidala's relationship results in the birth of twins, Luke and Leia, who become the heroes of the original trilogy. But what we don't know until the prequel films is the sequence of events through which these outcomes have arisen. And as much as we're made to not care about the love story, the events detailing how the Empire came to rule are very interesting. This part of Attack was criticized for being too oblique and hard to follow, causing many to tune out and even label it boring. But it caused me to tune in and try to figure out just what is going on.

The plot points involve the formation of a Separatist movement—a collection of leaders from various star systems and planetary organizations that have left the Republic with accusations of its growing incompetence and corruption. The Separatists are headed by a mysterious former Jedi named Count Dooku, whom we later learn is also a Sith Lord—the current apprentice of Darth Sidious following the death of former apprentice Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace. It starts out as somewhat of a mystery story, as Obi-Wan Kenobi follows clues left by a changeling who attempts to assassinate Amidala. Obi-Wan's search into this mystery leads him to distant ocean planet Kamino where he discovers a clone army of thousands that has been created and raised in secret, apparently (according to the cloners) commissioned a decade prior by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas. And this is where things really get interesting. Sifo-Dyas, it turns out, has been dead for about a decade. And the model for the clones is a bounty hunter named Jango Fett, who wears armor that we recognize from the original trilogy worn by Boba Fett. And so unfolds another example of how characters and storylines from the original trilogy are enriched and expanded on in the prequel trilogy, contributing to a deeper mythopoeia.

We're told that the clones have been constructed with growth acceleration and performance enhancements to make them fit for combat within ten years of conception. Jango, in exchange for providing himself as a genetic model for the clones, requested a single unaltered clone for himself, which he raises as his son. This is the Boba Fett we know from the first trilogy, who wears his father's armored suit following Jango's death in the battle of Geonosis. When Obi-Wan questions Jango upon meeting him on Kamino, Jango denies ever having heard of Sifo-Dyas, claiming he was "recruited by a man named Tyranus". At the end of Clones, we see Count Dooku being addressed as Darth Tyranus, thus revealing for the first time in the series that Sith apparently operate under dual identities—at least for awhile, until they fulfill their evil goals at which point their former humanoid identity seems to vanish altogether and their Sith identity emerges fully. Senator Palpatine, it turns out, is also Darth Sidious—the Sith Master.

This aspect of Attack of the Clones, while perhaps too deep for some, left me with more to think about than any of the previous films in the franchise. In the original trilogy the mythology created was sufficient for the time. There are obvious metaphors such as the Force being a pantheistic, pandeistic, and/or panpsychist property—that is the belief in god as an all-encompassing, unifying, and possibly conscious energy that exists within everything in the universe. Also, there are clear parallels between the Empire and real life totalitarian regimes like the Nazis and Fascists. Intergenerational familial conflicts and themes of forgiveness and redemption are paramount as well, in often Shakespearean and operatic proportions. And of course common mythological themes of the struggle between good and evil, between light and dark, and the rise and fall of heroes, etc. 

These same themes and metaphors exist in the prequel trilogy as well, but what's new is this fascinating introduction of the Sith and what it represents. What I like here is how information about the Sith is revealed in context to other new elements of the Star Wars prequel mythopoeia—it's only given to us in small pieces, never outright described in detail, leaving us to speculate and interpret the full scope of meaning on our own. In this way the metaphors and symbols in the prequels are more elusive and thought-provoking than those in the original trilogy which, while awesome at the time those films were released, are comparatively rather simple and straightforward.

THE SITH METAPHOR

Based on what we're told about the Sith in episodes I-III, this is what I conclude (take note that my conclusions are based solely on the Star Wars films and not on any other media in the expanded universe, i.e. comic books, novels, TV shows, video games, etc.): perhaps the Sith is a parasite spirit entity that exists on another plain of existence, possibly the Netherworld of the Force. We're told that the Sith have been extinct for a thousand years—so maybe this is the gestation period in the life cycle of Sith: one millennium. Just as human women undergo nine months of pregnancy before giving birth, perhaps Sith similarly undergo one millennium of incubation before being reborn into the physical, living realm. But once born into the living realm Sith need a body to operate within, and because they're parasite entities they latch onto and inhabit a physical lifeform who is somehow susceptible to infection. Just as demons or "The Devil" have been said to possess people.

In Revenge of the Sith, Obi-Wan tells Padmé that, "After the death of Count Dooku, Anakin became his (Darth Sidious's) new apprentice." After Dooku's death, not while Dooku was still alive, because there are only ever two Sith existing at once. But Dooku was killed at the beginning of Revenge, and it's not until much later, in the last third of the film, that Anakin pledges his obedience and allegiance to Sidious, is given the Sith name Darth Vader, and begins committing evil acts. So maybe the Sith is a single lifeform that exists as a pair, inhabiting two separate bodies, one of whom is the master and the other the apprentice. If one is killed, then the spirit of that Sith reunites with its living twin in its host body until it can reinfect a new body of its own. Perhaps this is how Sith reproduce. Metaphorically, this parallels how evil reproduces, as if the two Sith represent the culprit and victim, the inflictor and the inflicted, the abuser and the abused. If the abused is killed, the abuser chooses a new victim to infect with its evil, and if the abuser is killed, the abused becomes the master abuser and infects a new victim, and so on. So when Anakin kills Dooku, the Sith spirit that inhabited Dooku's body leaps into Anakin, and in that instant Anakin becomes the new apprentice Sith even though he doesn't yet know it or embrace it until later on in the film. Of course Sidious planned this and had been grooming Anakin to be his new apprentice, just as he had likely planned for Dooku/Tyranus to be his apprentice following Darth Maul's death.

The essential components of this Sith duality have been captured in countless tales before, but never in my mind has a metaphor for evil been so accurately communicated in any story as it is here in the Star Wars prequel trilogy. It's the single biggest reason I'm willing to forgive any other flaws in the trilogy—flaws that the hater bandwagon focus on as reasons to dismiss the whole trilogy as a failure. A metaphor so powerful and fascinating as the Sith far outweighs any instances of cheesy dialogue or less than seamless CGI, etc., as far as I'm concerned. It's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, another timeless classic, put into a science fiction, space opera context. The duality of humankind, simultaneously capable of tremendous acts of kindness and horrific acts of cruelty. Anakin embodies this conflict. It's also a perfect metaphor for addiction; those suffering have described it as their true selves, which embody goodness, internally battling with the evil side—the surface version of themselves created in reaction to negative events, influences, and people; the abuse and trauma that they and/or their ancestors have experienced. The horrors of the world. We absorb the evil that is done to us, and unless/until we can find a means to get rid of it, we—usually unintentionally—inflict it on others. Demons.

Perhaps the Sith—as a spirit entity, a parasite—infects a being and slowly takes them over, in time. Maybe Palpatine was just a young, innocent boy on Naboo when the Sith infected him, gradually evolving inside him as he grew to be a man. It causes him to operate under dual identities working together, to divide the Jedi and the Republic against each other. This is what Attack of the Clones also executes in interesting ways; it's Dooku/Tyranus, under Sidious's guidance, who leads the Separatists, while Palpatine/Sidious leads the Republic—influencing each to go to war with one another. So Sith are double agents of a sort. The more that the Sith causes its host being to do evil, the more the original host being fades, while the Sith grows stronger—as Palpatine eventually becomes Sidious only, later known as "The Emperor", and any good that the man Palpatine might've had is completely gone. The same becomes true of Anakin, almost. In the original trilogy, when Obi-Wan tells Luke that Darth Vader "killed" his father Anakin Skywalker, he is speaking truthfully. The demon creature called Sith killed the man Anakin, so in the end only the Sith Darth Vader exists—at least that's what we think until the end of Return of the Jedi when we see that Anakin still lives inside Vader and is strong enough to eventually end the evil. The guilt, shame, trauma, and fear that a Sith host feels from the evil that the Sith inside causes them to do is in itself the very stuff that feeds the Sith. And this leads the host into deep denial, blindness around the acts of treachery and cruelty that they have been committing, and strengthens the evil.

This is why the Jedi are so blind to the existence of the Sith—especially since Palpatine/Sidious is right in front of their faces the whole time. In Phantom, Qui-Gon Jinn tells the boy Anakin about the midi-chlorians and claims that people are "symbionts with them." A symbiont is defined as "either of two organisms that live in symbiosis with one another", and symbiosis means "the relationship between two different kinds of living things that live together and depend on each other." Midi-chlorians are the makers of the Force, and if they are in symbiosis with the Jedi (practitioners of the light side of the Force) then they must also be in symbiosis with the Sith (practitioners of the dark side of the Force). Therefore Jedi and Sith are symbionts to one another. That is, they are two different kinds of organisms who live in dependency to one another. But Jedi, it seems, are in denial of this symbiotic relationship with Sith, and consider themselves superior to Sith. And likewise Sith are in denial of their symbiotic relationship with Jedi. This is why each being resents the other, and why Yoda and the other Jedi cannot see the existence of the Sith—because they are unwittingly directly connected to the Sith and unconsciously complicit in the evil. Not that the Jedi commit acts of evil as do the Sith—quite the contrary, the Jedi are thoroughly committed to peace and justice. But the Force has a light side and a dark side—two sides, but one Force. Both are inextricably linked, and just as the Sith cannot exist except in contrast to the Jedi, likewise the Jedi cannot exist but in contrast to the Sith—maybe for a millennium, but not for eternity. It's a profound message for humanity: we must acknowledge each of our own potential to do evil, our own dark sides. Because to ignore or deny it only strengthens it.

Jedi and Sith are not separate; they are two sides of the same coin, magnetic poles. If Sith are indeed a spirit entity—perhaps a concentration of energy born out of the dark side of the Force—and the Force exists everywhere in the universe, light and dark sides alike, then every living being in the universe is directly influenced by the Force in all its facets, whether they're aware of it or not. And the light and dark both come from the same source, the midi-chlorians. So every living being is complicit in the happenings in the universe, however indirectly, through their own action or inaction. If the Sith have truly been extinct for a thousand years then the Jedi have surely not been seriously tested in as long, and have grown complacent and somewhat arrogant in their unchallenged power. They're in denial over their role as beings connected to the Sith. If Sith are born out of fear and hate, guilt and shame, collectively accumulated by all living beings in the universe, then that includes the Jedi. They are thoroughly blinded by their unconscious guilt as living creatures in the universe whose every action has infinite repercussions, as do the actions of all living entities in the Star Wars world and our own. And then Anakin comes along, created by the midi-chlorians themselves, to merge the two sides and banish the demon Sith back to the Netherworld again—for at least, one hopes, another thousand years.

At one point in Revenge Palpatine tells Anakin the tale of "The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis", a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Sith lord so powerful that he had learned to manipulate the midi-chlorians to the point of being able to cheat death—that is, prevent people from dying, and possibly even create life. As with Anakin, who is thought to have been created by the midi-chlorians themselves. Plagueis's apprentice, Palpatine says, eventually killed him in his sleep. The tale ends there, but the implication is that Palpatine/Sidious was Plagueis's apprentice. This is an interesting idea, but doesn't quite fit with the fact that Sith have been extinct for a millennium—unless the Jedi were mistaken about this and simply didn't know of Plagueis when he was alive, and the millennium-long extinction actually ended with Plagueis before Sidious. 

The other idea that this Plagueis story introduces is that perhaps a Sith Master can only be killed by his own apprentice. We haven't seen or heard of many Sith in the series, but the evidence supports this (assuming that Sidious was indeed Plagueis's apprentice). Sidious killed Plagueis, and Vader kills Sidious. This theory supports the aforementioned idea of Sith reproducing through the death of one of them. When Sidious killed Plagueis, the twin-half of the Sith that inhabited Plagueis reunited with its other half in Sidious, until it could reinfect another susceptible candidate: Maul, then Dooku, and finally Anakin. But Anakin does eventually end the cycle, when his good side is reawakened by his son Luke refusing to strike him down. And Anakin/Vader kills Sidious, then dies himself. And so Anakin is after all the chosen one spoken of in the prophecy—the one who would bring balance to the Force, first by becoming a Jedi, then by becoming a Sith, then by destroying the Sith and himself in the process. And so the entire story, Episodes I-VI, does end up being the Tragedy of Anakin Skywalker, as Lucas has stated. 

A powerful message is finally revealed in the conclusion of Episode VI; that the destruction of the Sith comes, finally, with Luke's refusal to strike his father down—out of love, compassion, and faith that even the most evil, fascist, mass-murdering dictator, as Vader has become, still has some good in him. And through Luke's unwavering love and faith, his father's goodness emerges and destroys the evil by destroying the Emperor and himself.

STAR WARS: EPISODE III - REVENGE OF THE SITH

Release Date: May 19th, 2005
Rating (out of 5): ★★★★½
Running Time: 140 minutes
Written & Directed by: George Lucas
Starring: Hayden Christensen, Ewan McGregor, Natalie Portman, Ian McDiarmid, Samuel L. Jackson, Frank Oz (voice only), Christopher Lee, Anthony Daniels, Kenny Baker, Jimmy Smits, Peter Mayhew

Revenge of the Sith (like its prequel counterpart episodes) is visually sharper, glossier, slicker, grander, and cleaner than the original Star Wars trilogy, which employed a "used future" look. This fits with the storyline of this series since the prequel trilogy is set in a pre-Empire, peaceful, productive universe, as opposed to the Sith-controlled, oppressive world of the original trilogy. The CGI and special effects here are more advanced and seamless than in Episode I, including a particularly mindblowing outerspace action sequence at the film's outset. I do believe this is the single most dazzling and impressive war scene in any science fiction action film ever made. There are more worlds (and bigger and more complex worlds), cities, aliens, monsters, creatures, robots/droids, spaceships, war vehicles/weapons, etc., than in any of the other films in the franchise. There are also bigger and more intense battles, more sensational effects, more intense and intricate lightsaber duels. And rightly so, given the crucial events that take place in this, perhaps the most important episode in the series to date, in which the Galactic Republic is overthrown and transformed into the Galactic Empire.

At times the battles in Revenge (and likewise in Attack) are almost too dazzling—jam-packed with dozens of different battle droids, war machines, spaceships, vehicles (land, air, and water), etc., to the point that all of it almost seems less special because we're not given time to admire the specific details of everything. It's almost overwhelming and too much information. Almost. In this day and age, technology has allowed astonishing special effects to be executed with ease and relative low cost, so all too often Hollywood relies too heavily on the spectacle in films at the expense of the story. What saves this film from following that same trend is that the story itself is also awesome, and so the remarkable visual effects don't so much overpower the story as they add to its epic impact. Spectacular and grandiose in visual design, for sure, and bordering on being a bit much at times—but ultimately successful nonetheless because of the significance of the narrative content for Star Wars fans, in which we get to see Anakin Skywalker become Darth Vader.

This film bridges the gap to Episode IV in outstanding ways, and George Lucas has achieved a feat that has never been accomplished no less attempted in cinema's (and perhaps literature's?) history: to create a succesful trilogy of stories that enter the public consciousness, then make another prequel trilogy that concludes with an episode which connects the two trilogies. And this Episode III was released twenty-eight years after the original film debuted. Think about that. My hat's off to George Lucas for this tremendous achievement. It’s truly amazing to see events referenced in the original trilogy unfold, to have some background details filled in.

That being said, however, Revenge of the Sith is not an altogether perfect film. In regards to what doesn't work, for starters: it's a bit too fast at times—not the action sequences, but the narrative pacing. Some of the events are rushed. For example, when Anakin kills Mace Windu and finally pledges his allegiance to Sidious, he kneels before Sidious within seconds of killing Windu—even though he still expresses doubt. The lead up to this is good as we see Anakin becoming increasingly conflicted as he turns to the dark side throughout the film, but his final turn should take just a minute or two longer. It might be more impactful if he cries in anguish and/or scuttles to the corner of the room and cowers before Sidious for a moment before he finally succumbs. Also, when the stormtroopers get the order from Sidious to kill the Jedi, virtually every Jedi is cut down instantly. I would've liked to see Lucas bring us closer inside at least two or three lightsaber battles, and extend this sequence as the Jedi fight desperately to defend themselves against the ambush. 

Furthermore in regards to speed and pacing of the story; there's a moment when Obi-Wan goes to tell Padmé that Anakin has turned to the dark side, saying that he saw security footage of Anakin killing younglings, and Padmé instantly answers "I can't believe that". Her answer comes too quickly, immediately after Obi-Wan finishes speaking. They should've had her wait five or ten seconds to let the magnitude of this horrifying news sink in before she responds. It feels too scripted, which of course we know it is, but it could have been done better if it wasn't so rushed. So the film feels a bit hurried at times, and makes me think that Lucas had producers' orders to make sure it was under two-and-a-half hours long. As is, it's two hours and twenty minutes, and while overall well-paced, extending it by a few minutes would've just rounded it out and made it that much better, and I might've given it five stars instead of four-and-a-half. This might be nitpicky, but the soundness of a story is in its details.

There are some other details in Revenge that don't so much resonate as outright flaws but rather puzzling questions. For example, at the end Senator Organa (Jimmy Smits) orders for C-3PO's mind to be wiped (i.e. his memory erased), but says nothing of doing the same to R2-D2, so it can be assumed that R2 is the only conscious being who knows the whole story. Since he's present in Episodes I through VI, and is likely to be in VII through IX too (Lucas has stated that the two droids would be the only characters who appear in all the films), then why does he never say anything about the events in I-III to anyone in IV-VI? Does R2 know of and believe in the prophecy, allowing it to play out without interference that revealing some of what he knows may cause? Does he have faith that Luke will redeem his father? Why doesn't Senator Organa command that both droids' memories be wiped? Maybe R2 is underestimated, regarded as an inferior droid, a mere machine without full grasp of the larger narrative that he’s a part of. Perhaps, but numerous times throughout the series R2-D2's expeditiousness has saved the day, proving himself a clever and integral member of the hero team. And other characters have noted as much. I can only conclude that Lucas's choice to conspicuously leave R2-D2's memory intact is a detail that will have greater importance in the future sequel episodes to come. Indeed, R2 plays an important role in Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, but that one was written and directed by J.J. Abrams under Disney's control, who disregarded Lucas's notes when he sold the franchise to them. But perhaps Abrams and Disney tuned in to this detail as I did, consciously giving R2 a significant (but also puzzling) role in the new film with the intention to reveal more about his purpose in the overall saga in future episodes. We'll have to wait and see, but in the meantime this plot point gives us something to ponder, especially in respect to the deeper significance that a robot such as R2-D2 has in this universe.

ALLUSIONS & METAFICTION IN STAR WARS

George Lucas's sources of inspiration for Star Wars have been well-documented. Chief amongst these influences are Joseph Campbell's book The Hero with a Thousand Faces, a work of comparative mythology detailing character archetypes and narrative formulas that have occurred in stories throughout human existence. Lucas has also cited B-movies, television shows, and comic strips, particularly of the science fiction, space opera, and horror genres of the 1930s through 1960s—works that he grew up watching and reading—and specifically Flash Gordon—as primary influences on Star Wars. And the third most prominent field of influence that Lucas has cited is the repertoire of filmmaker Akira Kurosawa, whose movies often center around feudal Japanese practices and samurai codes. In particular, Lucas has acknowledged Kurosawa's 1958 film The Hidden Fortress as a major influence, and indeed the parallels are evident. Like A New Hope, The Hidden Fortress features such characters as a princess, an aging general, a cocky warrior, and two bumbling peasants whom C-3PO and R2-D2 are clearly modeled on. The characterization of Jedi obviously draws from such Asian influences as not only samurai and ancient warrior codes, but also religious philosophies such as those of Buddhist monks. The impact of all of these works on the manifestation of Star Wars is apparent and interesting to note, as many have.

But another compelling aspect to the Star Wars series is its metafictional qualities—that is, elements that go beyond the internal narrative and refer to the films themselves, and to the history of cinema and literature. In particular, there are several links to classic monster movies. David Prowse, who plays Darth Vader inside the suit in all pre-Disney episodes in which the character appears, formerly played the Frankenstein monster, and other monsters, in a few films throughout the 1960s and early 1970s (most notably for the U.K.'s famous monster movie production company Hammer Film Productions). At the end of Revenge when Anakin finally becomes Darth Vader in the suit as we knew him from the original films, he breaks out of the operating table shackles shouting "Nooooo!" upon hearing news that Padmé has died. Some laughed at the corny execution of this scene, but I thought it was clearly reminiscent of the Frankenstein monster coming to life and Dr. Frankenstein screaming the classic line, "It's alive, it's aliiive!" in the 1931 Golden Age of Hollywood film Frankenstein. So this was obviously an intentional reference to classic monster movies, Frankenstein specifically, and B-movies in general—and all the more cool since Prowse had actually played the Frankenstein monster before. And Vader completes the Frankenstein reference further when he destroys Sidious in Return, in a revisitation of the "creator killed by his own creation" theme, just as Dr. Frankenstein is destroyed by the Frankenstein monster.

This theme has been explored in numerous tales throughout history, from the Greek myth of Icarus to Blade Runner (1982). Such stories serve as commentaries on an aspect of human nature; our seemingly frequent tendency to destroy ourselves, and/or to self-destruct due to our own unfettered ambition and hubris. So while some scoffed at this scene of the creation of Darth Vader, I applauded as I saw it appropriately continuing a Star Wars virtue of referencing and reinventing classical, traditional, archetypal storytelling conventions, themes, and characters—from mythology, to literature, to science fiction cinema, to monster movies, etc.

And the monster story themes and allusions don't end there. The Jedi-Sith paradigm represents another classic theme in literature and cinema of the duality of human nature, the struggle between good and evil. The concept of the Sith itself is essentially a retelling of Robert Louis Stevenson's classic 1886 novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, if the Sith is indeed a demon spirit parasite entity born out of the world's collective guilt, fear, and hate, that infects an otherwise good physical being. Anakin Skywalker is Jekyll and Darth Vader is Hyde, just as—maybe—Palpatine was Jekyll and Sidious is Hyde. Like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818), Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has likewise been adapted numerous times, including the classic 1931 version which is still creepy and resonant to this day.

Additional nods to the classic monster movie genre include the casting of Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin in Episode IV. Cushing acted in numerous monster movies and horror films throughout his career, including many for Hammer Film Productions. Cushing played vampire hunter Van Helsing and Dr. Victor Frankenstein in multiple Dracula and Frankenstein films, including one with David Prowse—Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974). And Lucas cast another monster movie alumnus in the prequel trilogy: Christopher Lee as Count Dooku. Lee played the Frankenstein monster in Hammer Film The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) opposite Cushing as Victor Frankenstein, and Lee played Count Dracula in dozens of films from the 1950s to 1970s including Hammer Film Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966) with Cushing as Van Helsing. It's another cool reference considering the film history behind it: Count Dracula, Count Dooku.

STAR WARS CHARACTER AND PLACE NAMES

Star Wars character names have always been interesting. Sometimes they sound Asian, as in the cases of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn—conjuring images of samurai or Buddhist monks, befitting of Jedi. Sometimes the names reflect the characters' main personality traits, such as Skywalker for Luke and Anakin, people with big dreams of fulfilling a heroic destiny in the stars. And especially Sith, whose names Darth Maul, Darth Tyranus, Darth Sidious, Darth Plagueis, Darth Vader, all have sinister connotations. To maul is to violently wound. Tyranus sounds like tyrant, a cruel and oppressive leader. Sidious sounds like insidious, gradually proceeding towards treacherous goals. Plagueis sounds like plague, a widespread deadly disease. Vader resembles invader and evader. And Darth is a title given to all Sith, a portmanteau of dark and Sith, in reference to that side of the Force that they represent. With so many characters in the vast Star Wars universe not all of the names have hidden or secondary meanings, but I don't think it's a stretch to assume that Lucas often tried to mirror some quality of the characters in the meaning and/or sound of their names. Jar Jar Binks is a silly, playful sounding name, befitting of him. The prefix Ami as in Amidala means friend in French, and occurs in words like amiable and amicable meaning agreeable and likeable—so that fits too.

The name Qui-Gon Jinn is most interesting, particularly the "Jinn" part. "Jinn" is a word from Arabic and Islamic mythology, and refers to supernatural creatures who inhabit an unseen world, another universe beyond the known universe. Jinn can be good, evil, or neutral, can manifest as demons or angels, and can interact with humans as well as influence or possess them. Jinn is the plural form, whereas a single one is called a jinni. The anglicized form of jinni is genie, which is a borrowing of the French génie, from the Latin genius. This is where it gets really interesting in context of my earlier description of the Jedi-Sith metaphor. The word and concept of a genius originated in Roman mythology as the name given to an instance of divine nature that is present in every individual person, place, or thing. Sounds like the midi-chlorians, or the Force, right? Like a guardian angel, a genius follows a person from the moment of their birth until death. So, in ancient times, people wouldn't say that someone "is a genius" as we do now, but rather that they "have a genius"—that they have a divine spirit that follows them around. This is why the great artists throughout history are often described as being geniuses, and have often spoken of their creative process feeling like God speaking through them. This concept of a jinni, genie, or genius applies quite consistently to the concept of Jedi and Sith—physical beings who are influenced by a power (the Force) born from an unseen world. At the end of Revenge, Yoda tells Obi-Wan that he has been communing with Qui-Gon who now exists in the Netherworld of the Force—so I like to think that his last name Jinn is no accident, and in fact a purposeful reference to the jinn mythology.

As with Star Wars character names, some of the place names have interesting meanings as well. One good example is Mustafar, the name of the volcanic planet where Obi-Wan confronts Anakin, fights with him, cuts off his arms and legs, and leaves him on the lava bank. In addition to the significance of this planet obviously resembling a fiery hell, the name is also nearly identical to the Arabic word Mustafa which means "The Chosen One". Mustafa is an epithet—that is, a byname or descriptive term that occurs in place of or accompanying a name—such as has been prescribed to Muhammad, the prophet of Islam.

As mentioned earlier, in another striking metafictional detail Hayden Christensen's name means "heathen Christian"—a contradiction in terms reflected in the name of the actor who plays the most powerful Jedi and Sith. And so what about the name Anakin? He's the central figure in the prequel trilogy—less so in the original trilogy, although Lucas has stated that the six episodes of the series are essentially his story. It's the tragic tale of the rise and fall of Anakin Skywalker; first to hero, then to villain, and finally to redemption. So what of the importance of his name then? The last name is obvious, but Anakin? It's always left a mild itch somewhere in the back of my mind; sounds like mannequin. But that doesn't really fit. So I dissected it. The prefix ana means out of place or time, as in anagram (letters of a word rearranged, put in a different sequence, to form a new word), anachronism (an object or person belonging to a period in time other than that in which it exists), or anastrophe (inversion of the usual order of words or clauses, i.e. how Yoda speaks). And kin means one's relatives, one's clan, derived from the Old English word meaning race, kind, birth, or to be born. So Anakin means out of place from one's clan, out of place as a kind, as a race—born out of place. This definitely fits, as he is truly one of a kind, being both the most powerful Jedi and the most powerful Sith, the one spoken of in a prophecy, the chosen one to bring balance to the Force—first by mastering the light side, then falling to the dark side, then destroying the Sith Master and thereby banishing evil from the universe. And out of place by birth, certainly, since he was fathered by the midi-chlorians. Out of place from the Jedi, from the Sith, from all races in the universe.

CONCLUSION

So, despite what has seemed to become a popular consensus regarding the Star Wars prequel trilogy—that Episodes I-III are far inferior to the original trilogy—these films actually have numerous positive qualities, foremost being the ways in which they expand the mythopoeia that was introduced in the originals. The prequels make the originals better, not by comparison as the prequel-haters would claim, but by providing a rich history to the characters and world that we already know. When the Emperor encourages Luke to strike Vader down in Return of the Jedi, this reminds us of Palpatine encouraging Anakin to strike Dooku down in Revenge of the Sith, and supports my theory of the Sith reproducing itself as a pair/twin entity by infecting a new subject upon the death of one of the pair. When Obi-Wan gives Anakin's lightsaber to Luke in A New Hope, we are reminded of when Obi-Wan picked it up from the ground at Mustafar after cutting off Anakin's arms and legs in battle. By not killing Anakin, Obi-Wan gives him the opportunity to fulfill his destiny as the chosen one, which he eventually does in Return. We get to see the history behind that which is only subtly referenced in the original trilogy. The Clone Wars are mentioned in A New Hope but now we get to see how and why they came about, in Attack and Revenge. Before the prequel films it was long rumoured that Darth Vader, in his earlier life as Anakin Skywalker, made C-3PO. In Phantom this rumour is confirmed as being true, when we see the child Anakin constructing him. We get to see the origin of Boba Fett, the story of his father Jango, and the important role that they both play in the history and emergence of the Empire. And we see the construction of the Death Star begin. The grand scope and shinier, polished look of the prequels versus the rather drab and shabby (by comparison) technology and "used future" look of the original trilogy fits with the storyline, as by A New Hope the galaxy has been decimated—technologically, economically, morally, and spiritually—by the Sith and formation of the fascist Empire.

And perhaps most importantly, for the fan who admires the more intellectual, thought-provoking aspects of the Star Wars series—and not simply the aesthetic, technical, special effects, action, spectacle qualities—the symbolism and metaphorical meanings of the saga are amplified to a greater and more complex degree, evoking numerous parallels to our own world. A deeper exploration of evil is explored with the Sith metaphor, as are ideological, political philosophies of Nazism, capitalism, and imperialism. These days if I feel compelled to watch a Star Wars movie I'm more inclined to put one of the prequel films on than one of the original three, for all of the aforementioned reasons. The originals are the best, and I've loved them since I first saw them as a child whose mind was full of imagination and the wonders of storytelling. But I love the prequels too.

But now we enter another new era of Star Wars, as Lucas has sold his singularly successful independent production company Lucasfilm to the major corporation Disney Studios. Since the creator is no longer involved, I feel like I can never regard any future Star Wars films in the same way as I have the others. It's like viewing Ruth Plumly Thompson's series of Oz sequels with the same consideration as L. Frank Baum's fourteen original books. Or like viewing Terminator: Genisys (written and directed by god knows who) with the same interest as James Cameron's The Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgment Day. It just can't be. If Disney had more respect for Lucas as the creator, the originator of the Star Wars story, then they may have used the apparently extensive notes and story outlines that he gave them when the deal was made. And for awhile, as rumours of The Force Awakens percolated, that was said to be the case. If so, I would've had a greater interest in any subsequent films. Alas, Disney ultimately decided to completely disregard all of Lucas's story notes, and take the series in a new direction. So be it. Star Wars is a monumental franchise, so well-established and influential in our world's popular culture, that it has a life of its own. So, perhaps future films will still adequately hold down the Star Wars legacy. I have some doubts, but I'll still be watching.