Wednesday, July 20, 2016

The Art of World-Building: Nostalgic for Palmer's Naturalized Pokemon

          The spectacle of nostalgic entertainment that is Pokemon Go is inescapable right now. Everyone I talk to is enraptured by the new mobile game as they frantically collect new Pokemon and obsess over evolving them into more powerful forms. Watching the young adults of my generation be returned to a state of pre-pubescent enthusiasm for Pokemon is a phenomenon equal parts disturbing and fascinating to myself. While I am rather unimpressed by the game itself and somewhat perplexed by the immensity of its popularity, I have to admit that the magnitude of Pokemon images present upon social media has definitely reignited my interest in the franchise. But after over a decade of ignoring the world of Pokemon, I find myself re-approaching it with a more mature and critical speculative interest. I find myself questioning aspects of its world-building such as how Pokemon reproduce, whether they evolved from other animals, whether they eat other animals or one another, whether they are sapient or not, and if so, what are the ethics of Pokemon hunting and fighting. Setting these questions aside (for a later blog essay I predict), I want to consider this process of rationalizing our nostalgic childhood interests.

          Specifically, I want to examine the aesthetic rationalizations of nostalgia for Pokemon by looking at some reinterpretations of Pokemon by speculative artists. What I am referring to is the popularity of realistic depictions of Pokemon. Such artistry involves reimagining Pokemon in such a way that they are rendered more compatible with our real world perspective. This necessarily involves a less cartoonish representation of the Pokemon in favor of one with more detail. This may further develop along two aesthetic styles of either natural reduction or alien extrapolation. By the former I refer to the reimagining of the Pokemon according to categories and forms familiar to historical evolutionary biology. In contrast, the latter refers to a redesign of the Pokemon according to its more exaggerated and supernatural characteristics. Extrapolating from these features, the artist provides a speculative skeleton (so to speak) upon which to rebuild the Pokemon according to more naturalistic principles. The result is something more understandable in its function but almost always more alien in its appearance. Either of these two aesthetic strategies allows for Pokemon to be considered as mature phenomenon compatible (relatively speaking) with a naturalistic and scientific understanding of the world largely overlooked from the cartoonish child logic of Pokemon.

          This examination of realistic Pokemon depictions is tangentially related to my interest in and promotion ofworld-building artists. While technically fan-art, such art is therefore not to be considered an act of original world-building per se. But it does nevertheless provide a degree of detail and sophisticated speculative logic that could warrant the identification of world-reinforcing. Such world-reinforcement may even extend beyond the visual as artists provide textual speculation to complement and justify the appearance of their Pokemon. As before in my world-building series of essays, my focus was on various Deviant Art members and one artist in particular was predominant interest to me. RJ Palmer, otherwise known by his Deviant Art profile as arvalis, is easily recognized as the most accomplished realistic Pokemon artist. His portfolio encompasses hundreds of Pokemon in the franchise and his beautifully-detailed prints are even available for purchaseas art books. Please check out his profile and gallery as his artwork is too extensive for me to do adequate justice in this essay alone. What I would like to focus on is Palmer’s personal approach to rationalizing Pokemon both visually and textually.

          Of the two strategies I identified above, Palmer’s Pokemon are depicted according to the natural reduction approach insofar as they are reduced to familiar archetypes of biological science. To label they a reduction however would be a disservice to the incredible amount of detail he renders them in. Palmer’s Pokemon are immediately recognizable as the equivalent of familiar real animals such as dinosaurs, amphibians, birds or insects or some chimerical amalgamation thereof. Even seemingly inorganic Pokemon such as Voltorb and Magnemite are reimagined akin to armadillos and crabs respectively. On most of his prints, Palmer goes into detail rationalizing the biology and abilities of each Pokemon insofar as they can have naturalistic explanations. Such complementary texts can often be quite humorous as Palmer admits will occasionally concede the impossibility of an acceptable naturalistic explanation for the Pokemon. To use the aforementioned Magnemite-as-crab he only has to say “Magnemites are hovercrabs”. No other explanation is possible or needed. Sometimes we simply need to resign ourselves to the simpler logic of our childhood rather than force rationalization our nostalgic interests in order to reconcile it with the influence of more mature ideologies. What follows are some of my favorite examples of Palmer’s artwork and explanation texts but I strongly recommend that you explore the entirety of his gallery as well.


Voltorb 

“Voltorb as they exist now is a direct result of Pokemon trainers, more specifically the invention of the Pokeball.  These Pokemon have adapted their coloration to mimic that of discarded Pokeballs commonly found on training routes.  The benefit of such patterning is that wild Pokemon have developed a fear or uneasiness of Pokeballs, making their ability to roll into a ball and take such a shape be of great help in warding off predators.  Pokemon professors have argued that this adaptation is irrefutable proof that Pokemon can and will adapt to a world full of Pokemon trainers, conversely conservationists argue that man should no longer train Pokemon.  Regardless of the debate Voltorbs make for great companions to electrically inclined trainers.”


Trevenant 

“Trevenant is a very unique cephalopod Pokemon.  Only needing to return to the water for breeding these Pokemon have evolved the ability to live terrestrially. Their soft bodies are easily damaged, calling for the use an unusual defensive adaptation.  They have a specialized beak that allows them to bore into trees and wear the pieces as a specialized armor.  As a result they take on the appearance of moving trees with demonic tendrils sprouting from them.  A ghastly sight to be sure, culminating in the uneducated believing them to be haunted trees or some such nonsense.  They have one major natural predator, the elusive Pacific Northwest Slaking that is rarely sighted by Slaking enthusiasts.”


Mime Jr. 

“Some find Mr. Mime charming and cute, Mime Jr. on the other hand is a disgusting abomination.  The juvenile Mr. Mimes have yet to develop their barrier ability and as such have the most repulsive false head on their tail that they use as a threat display.  Its effective in nauseating Pokemon and trainers alike.  In fact only the professors with the strongest will and sturdiest stomach can endure their presence for long.”


Gastly 

“None of the Gastly family are actually ghosts, but have just been claimed to be. Gastly and Haunter on live in caves and empty towers, appearing only at night. Their forms are very hard to make out as they have deceptive camouflage; Gastlies appear to be little more than a head at first glace, though in actuality are a very large poisonous bat. Each member of this family possesses a helium bladder, giving them the ability to float and taking on a ghostly appearance. Gengars do not occur in the wild, they are the result of a trainer taking their haunter to a new region, this results is a radical shift physique. Though Gengars do possess the ability to levitate, they are much heavier than their kin and can only levitate to avoid attacks. Each of them can produce a poisonous cloud by ruffling their fur, releasing dried toxic saliva into the air; though Gastlies seem to do this most commonly. They are hyper carnivores, preying on anything they can find, most commonly their relatives, Zubats."


Ditto 

“Mewtwo is imperfect. He was created in an attempt to clone the ancestral Pokemon, Mew. Mew's origins are not known, what is known is that within its DNA lies the building blocks to all Pokemon. Mew has the appearance of an embryo and it seemingly never ages. Mewtwo did not receive this genetic perk. At first hatching it appeared to be a perfect success, though the clone started growing. It eventually grew too strong to be kept under restraint, in its escape destroyed the research facility it was created in. In this purge it freed other undeveloped Mew clones. The cloned sludge, left without a body or identity, yet still with the incomplete building blocks of all Pokemon wander aimless seeking others of their kin. They are known as Ditto and have become a plague on wild Pokemon, killing an absorbing their prey and filling their broken DNA with strains from the world's Pokemon species.”


Blastoise 


“Blastoise is supposed to be able to aim his cannons and fire water jets to propel himself in a direction, very much like a real life squid. So he intakes large supplies of water through his mouth and stores it in a specialized organ in his chest under the shell. Blastoise primarily eats shellfish, earning his nickname as the shellfish Pokemon, he holds onto a Shellder in this case and blasts water to help him pull it off its rocky home. “

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

The Blunt Force of Star Wars Nostalgia Awakens (Part V)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)

          
          Some commentators may identify The Force Awakens as an exercise of modern mythological recurrence. If this is the case, then it is a poor example of it. Myths remain relevant when they are in conversation with the world around them. Lucas’ Star Wars films balanced a conversation between repeating their own mythic structure of the hero’s journey and situating said journey in alien worlds mutually influenced by popular genre tropes of both science fiction and fantasy. In contrast, The Force Awakens is only in conversation with Star Wars itself. These parallels may not be a problem for all audience members and I would not have been bothered by them if they were not so obvious and gratuitous. Some structural parallels in the narrative, such as the isolated youth of Luke and Rey, or the fallen Jedi of Vader or Kylo, may make sense if one accepts the mono-myth meta-narrative popularized by Joseph Campbell. Yet others seem to have no justification other than to capitalize on recognizable aspects of the universe to secure fan interest at the expense of exercising fan imaginations. This represents the endpoint of remix culture as much as it is the franchise as a whole. That is not to say that the franchise will fail following The Force Awakens but just that it appears to have reached its “end of history” where history just repeats ideas and events from the time that preceded it rather than innovating upon or imagining alternatives to the past. This is a thoroughly reactionary narrative, so fearful of repeating the flaws of the prequel trilogy that it became blind it the flaw of repeating too much of what was good in the original films. 

            The irony of Disney's appropriation of Lucas' franchise is that it remains firmly indebted to his imagination. The film, while professionally made and with the best effects and acting in the series to date, is the formulaic product of Disney's assembly line of films and largely dependent upon the appeal to the source material to drive audience interest. Abrams’ indulgence in nostalgia in The Force Awakens serves as a reminder that what was great in the Star Wars universe occurred in the past, and all that is left for the franchise is a recycling of it. Yet there is something inadequate in labeling The Force Awakens as a reboot. In order to appreciate the unique dynamics underlying Abrams’ film, it needs to be considered a work of fan-fiction. For as much as the film recalls, jokes and copies the past it does so with obvious fondness for it rather than the cynicism apparent in Jurassic World. Abrams is clearly a Star Wars fan with reverence towards the series but like most fan-fictions, his version brings little originality to the series. There is something both deeply reverential but also disappointing in replicating what was great about the original films while refusing to add anything new to them. Abrams and Disney may have preserved the image of Star Wars but they did so at the expense of rendering the new film redundant and the original films inconsequential. The film, clearly made by someone with love for the franchise, offers little beyond that apparent affection as any work of fan-fiction does. In the end that leaves us with the uncomfortable question of whether there was really a need for a new Star Wars film to begin with. If the only thing offered by the Force Awakens is nostalgia for the past, fans will want to return to Lucas’ original films more than they will want to invest in Disney’s franchise going forward.

          After seeing The Force Awakens and the record-breaking stream of revenue it is producing, I have new-found hope in the future of the franchise. This is not inconsistent with my preceding criticisms of the film. As I stated at the beginning of this essay, the Star Wars franchise is too big and complex, even with the loss of the expanded universe lore, to be adequately contained in any film or even the entire film series. I didn’t love The Force Awakens but I do love Star Wars and I am happy to see that other fans did love the film because their support means that the franchise will not be fading from memory any time soon. Even if the mythological structure underlying The Force Awakens appears to have ended in an eternal recurrence of the same, the religious devotion of fans to the Star Wars universe is very much alive. But agnostic as I am towards religious commitment, so too am I in doubt over my devotion to the future of the franchise. If Abrams’ film is representative of films to come, I don’t think I’ll be expressing my devotion to a galaxy far, far away in theaters. At least not with the same level of enthusiasm that I once did in my youth. But at least the faith in the beloved franchise of my childhood imagination lives on and I know that that a new generation worships a force (the Force) as I once did, differing canons and creators aside.     

The Blunt Force of Star Wars Nostalgia Awakens (Part IV)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)


          The absence of a political context for the film and the repetition of narrative elements from previous films deprives audiences of the emotional immersion climactic scenes deserve. The most dramatic moment of the film, or what could have been the most dramatic, is the confrontation between Kylo Ren and Han Solo on Starkiller Base during the Resistance attack. Because this scene is so brutally identical to the confrontation between Darth Vader and Obi-Wan on the Death Star in A New Hope, and instantly recognizable as such, it plays out as utterly predictable and therefore emotionally empty. The similarities between The Force Awakens and A New Hope were distracting because rather than following the plot of the film I was being reminded of the plot of its predecessor. This dynamic became increasingly distracting over the course of the film as what began in fond nostalgia descended into formulaic absurdity as the repetition became more blatant and gratuitous. Moments when characters reflect on the mythic history or discover with the lost relics creates a continuity in the timeline between The Force Awakens and the original films without compromising the integrity of either. But when characters repeat the narrative arcs of previous Star Wars films in The Force Awakens without any context to make sense of such repetition, the audience is left wondering how they could be so ignorant of events which changed the entire galaxy. After the failure of two Death Stars how could the First Order think it was a good idea to build another one with the same design flaw? After witnessing the Death of Obi-Wan at the hands of Darth Vader, how could Han Solo think that he could redeem his genocidal son who idolizes Darth Vader? If the audience cannot be invested in the film, then they will be forced out of it, and this is precisely what the combination of repetition and absence of explanation resulted in for me.

            The science-fiction epic of Star Wars captured my youthful imagination because the film-makers were so obviously imaginative themselves. There were always new aliens, planets, droids and ships across the horizon of the previous film to explore in the newest one. If nothing else, the prequels excelled at this unrestrained indulgence in the imagination. In contrast, the imagination, or lack thereof, In Abram’s The Force Awakens feels restricted to redesigns of iconic Star Wars elements. As an homage to one of the most imaginative series in our cultural mythology, this film feels largely uninspired in its narrative and world-building exploration of that series’ universe. How did the infinite possibilities of science fantasy, the imaginative intersection of both the science fiction and fantasy genres, become so retarded and recycled? The Force Awakens has sacrificed artistic imagination for fan recognition. Star Wars fans will instantly recognize iconic items from their favorite universe such as a lightsaber, Stormtrooper armor, Darth Vader’s helmet, the Millennium Falcon, etc. But Star Wars is not reducible to these items as each film within the series provided something new, something both magical and alien, for audiences to enjoy. Abrams’ film appears to have capitalized on the most memorable items within the Star Wars fan community and done nothing original outside of that community’s imagination beyond creating a cross-bar lightsaber and a spherical R2 unit. The planet Jakku is Tatooine in all but name, its only distinguishing difference is the salvage yards of crashed Empire starships. If Jakku is so similar to Tatooine, why not just make it Tatooine? Audiences would return to an iconic planet but see a new side of it in the post-Empire world. The most compelling instance of creativity in The Force Awakens was not found in its world-building but its casting of a woman and black actor as the young protagonists of the franchise going forward. It is about time that Star Wars gave minorities the recognition they deserve in the genre of science-fantasy. But for all the good that does for representation, the film offers nearly no commentary on their status as minorities. This can’t be considered a criticism per se, since one can always make the argument that the Star Wars is a post-sexist and post-racist universe, but it does reflect a limitation of that world to critique the ideologies of our own world.

            The Force Awakens is hardly the worst Star Wars movie, but in all honestly it is among the least interesting or imaginative in the series. This preserves it against the threat of the sequels but at the same time its insecurities betray the experimental genre-bending of the first film series. Abrams’ film is instantly familiar to fans, but also leaves the audiences appetite starving for something more substantially imaginative. Abrams is an avowed Star Wars fan and while his film is a clear homage to the series, it is also apparent that he misunderstands the creativity dynamic of the original films. Star Wars was an eclectic combination of fantasy tale, Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon space operas, military and Wild West adventure stories, and New Age mysticism with the underlying structure of Joseph Campbell’s compelling monomyth philosophy. Since then, the film franchise has become a myth of its own in modern pop-culture. The Force Awakens pays homage to that fact by framing the events in the original film trilogy as galactic myths themselves, the film fails to find inspiration in anything outside that trilogy’s narrative. The appeal of A New Hope and the rest of the original trilogy, and to a lesser extent the sequel trilogy, was its experimental eccelticticsm of elements from multiple genres popular at the time. The original films left so an impact because they were in conversation with so much of the wider culture popular at the time. In contrast, The Force Awakens only borrows elements from Star Wars itself and only with the most familiar and exhausted examples. At first the familiarity of nostalgia is satisfying but as time goes on in the film it becomes suffocating as it becomes apparent this is a film devoid of the sense of discovery that made the previous films so seductive. Star Wars has always been about exploring the infinite possibilities of worlds a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Abrams’ film doesn’t feel nearly far, far away enough from the influence of previous films. The Force Awakens is a fun film, but it is also a forgettable one. Disney's new interpretation of the famed franchise is composed primarily of recycled parts; for some fans this is a huge source of the appeal of the film, for others it merely reflects the cynicism of the film industry and easy commercial success formulas. For myself, it felt like a betrayal of the mythic meta-narrative of Star Wars itself.

          While The Force Awakens is better than Abram's previous two remake films with the Star Trek universe, it is arguably less respectful towards its source than those films were. Those films were at the least marketed as remakes, as opposed to sequels, but cleverly used Spock's time-traveling adventures as a narrative device to explain the divergent timeline of his new series and thereby retained the in-universe canonical status of the original series. Rather than redoing Star Trek history, Abrams split it. In the case of The Force Awakens, Abrams' narrative technique is to make it so that the next generation of heroes has forgotten or lost their history and is therefore doomed to repeat it, just as the audience is doomed to (re)watch it unfold. By destroying the Republic essentially off-screen and providing no commentary to create continuity between Lucas’ original films and Abrams’ own film, Abrams resets the narrative dynamic of his film back to that of the originals. Once again it is a small force of rebels resisting an evil empire even though the Resistance is (was) aligned with the ruling Republic and the Empire has collapsed. Were it not for the presence and reference of characters from the previous films in this The Force Awakens, it would be a reboot of A New Hope in all but name. The most ambitious aspect of the film is its consummate nostalgia, and arguably aspires towards nothing else. The Force Awakens is not a return to the past so much as a return of the past itself. This is not a pastiche of contemporary influences as the original film was, nor is it an homage to the original film. It is a remake of the original film masquerading as a sequel to it.

The Blunt Force of Star Wars Nostalgia Awakens (Part III)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)


          More disappointing than Abrams lack of interest in continuing the Lucas’ narrative from the original films is his lack of interest in his own original contributions to the franchise. Abrams’ delivers hints at interesting relationships and events that occurred between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens such as Kylo Ren’s betrayal of Luke’s Jedi Academy and the establishment of a new Republic capital planet but they are not explored in any detail beyond side commentary and limited flashbacks. The most glaring example being the character of Finn, an ex-Storm Trooper who has fled the First Order and reluctantly joined the Resistance to fight his former masters. Why, is the Resistance even called the Resistance? Isn’t it aligned with the Republic government? Does it make sense for a ruling power to be called a Resistance? If there is a reason for this, it isn’t in the film. Finn’s moral epiphany at the beginning of the film is obscure; apparently witnessing combat first-hand horrified him, but Finn is initially disturbed by the death of a fellow Stormtrooper and not the death of the civilians he was sent to execute. Prior to being sent into combat, Finn served as a janitor on Starkiller Base, and yet apparently working on an instillation titled Starkiller Base for a genocidal organization gave him no indication for their murderous intent. More problematic is that Finn’s sudden change of heart is utterly unquestioned by members of the Resistance and creates no tension between himself and his comrades. The First Order apparently wipes out the entire star system of the new Republic and a former member of the First Order is present at the mission briefing to assault Starkiller Base and no one questions the security of exposing Finn to that information? Here Abrams had an original character concept of a former Stormtrooper turned reluctant hero, but had no apparent interest in using this character to introduce psychological or moral complexity to the narrative.       

            As much as I appreciated the new characters, their motivations and those of the factions they were aligned with remained obscure throughout the film to me as did the lasting consequences of their actions. While the political commentary of the prequels was boring and that of the original trilogy was minimal, it was at least present and at the time had nothing preceding it. The Force Awakens had a justified burden to explain the political reality of the new series so as to differentiate it from its predecessors. At times I simply could not understand why characters were acting the way that they were nor did I care what they were doing. I have already gone into detail regarding Finn’s moral epiphany to defect from the First Order. Another absurd circumstance characters find themselves in occurs shortly after Rey and Finn escape from the First Order on Jakku in the Millennium Falcon and are picked up by Han Solo and Chewbacca who have been looking for their old ship for years. Conveniently the ship is detected by them on their scanners just as our heroes are in need of a mentor to guide them to the Resistance. It seemed that the Force was the only explanation as to the way characters reacted or were brought together in incomprehensible ways. I would have been able to accept this explanation, if only the explanation was offered. I would have been willing to accept that the Force was bringing our heroes together again and again if only the heroes felt more inclined to invoke it as well. Having a Deus Ex Machina in a fantastical narrative is one thing, but you have to at least make it apparent that it is something that the characters acknowledge.

            It is all too easy to predict the direction of The Force Awaken’s plot because so much of the plot is a repeat and remixing of previous Star Wars narrative elements, especially A New Hope. As I wrote in another post, the only spoiler for this film is that there are no spoilers. If you have watched the previous films in the franchise, then Abrams’ film is already spoiled for you. Excited to see The Force Awakens, I decided to re-watch the original films to refresh my understanding of the series lore, but this actually detracted from my enjoyment of the newest film in the franchise because so much of the plot I had already watched nights before but in a different film. I would have applauded Abram’s aping of the original trilogy’s plot if he took advantage of fan expectations in order to subvert them and create something exciting. Fans of any franchise obsess over lore and narrative and they know how events play out within the history of a series. Abrams’ could have distracted his audience at first with nostalgic familiarity and then halfway through the film thrown an unexpected twist into an otherwise predictable narrative. For example, instead of the Resistance attacking Starkiller Base after it had already destroyed the Republic, the assault on the weapon station could be carried out in the hope of preventing such a scenario from occurring in the first place. The Republic doesn’t take the threat of the base seriously after already defeating two Death Stars and sends a small force to destroy it using the same strategy as before. And they fail. The fleet is destroyed or captured and our heroes watch in horror as the Republic is destroyed before them. They barely escape before their lives and now the stakes for subsequent films could never be higher. The First Order possesses a weapon more powerful and impenetrable than its Death Star predecessors and the Republic has fallen. Now our heroes much search the galaxy for those willing to unite against the First Order and prevent the rise of a second Empire. This would have sent a powerful message to both the characters and audience alike that while this is a Star Wars film, it is like none you have seen before. Sadly, Abrams’ film was not that film and suffers for its entirely predictable narrative.

            The scene where the First Order obliterates the star system of the new Republic is the most significant atrocity of the entire film, if not the entire Star Wars canon universe but you would hardly notice as the narrative unfolds on screen. It was not until I read supplementary material that I became aware that the system destroyed by Starkiller Base was the site of the new Republic. This incomprehensible act of evil is hardly given any motivation on the part of the villains beyond stating that the Republic “tolerates disorder” (wouldn’t destroying an entire star system create far more disorder?). So little context is established in the film regarding the First Order and Republic that there is no for the audience to determine whether the Republic really was an ineffectual government or whether the proclamations of the First Order were empty propaganda. The only scene approaching a depiction of the Republic itself is the very scene in which its planets are destroyed, thereby robbing its obliteration of any emotional significance to the audience, or characters for that matter. None of the characters appear to live under any form of galactic governance, from the First Order or Republic, so no small wonder that they exhibit little horror when it is annihilated before them. Perhaps aware of this, Abrams spends no time in the remainder of the film dwelling upon this absurd level of destruction. Because the Republic is never explicitly depicted, there is no way for audiences to establish the extent of damage caused by its loss and the conflict of the film remains largely unaffected by this development. Considering that the Starkiller Base is destroyed, it remains uncertain how the conflict will develop in subsequent films. Will there be a bigger Starkiller Base? Will there be two instead of just one? Without representing the loss of the Republic to the galaxy, it likely won’t even matter.

          Of course Lucas didn’t spend any particular attention to the destruction of Alderaan in A New Hope but that was just one planet. Abrams destroyed a multitude of them which comprised the core capital of the newly formed Republic government in the galaxy. The scale and significance of these atrocities could not be more different. And therein lies a further problem with Abrams’ film conflict: it betrays the vision of the original films and with it the fan-base for the Star Wars series. Lucas’ original films were all about the defeat of the Empire so that the Republic could be rebuilt; Return of the Jedi culminates in a celebration of the death of Emperor Palpatine, signaling hope for generations to come. Finally, a new film emerges able to show what that hope looks like and it looks exactly the same as when the Empire was still in power. Abrams doesn’t spend enough, or any, time providing political context for the film for this to be excused as a cynical comment on the ineffectual political revolutions. It’s just lazy, if not arrogant, film-making. Disney apparently wasn’t content to erase the expanded universe canon, they also decided the erase the significance of Lucas’ canon films. If Disney is the Empire, then it is what remains in the First Order, obliterating original opportunities and erasing the significance of past films so that it can resell an old narrative as something new.

The Blunt Force of Star Wars Nostalgia Awakens (Part II)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)


          When critiquing films, I look for moments that encapsulate the dynamic of the film as a whole within a microcosm. For Jurassic World the scene was the command room which served as a double for the audience’s theater, thereby breaking the fourth wall between actor and audience identification. There is a moment very similar to this dynamic when our young heroes, Rey and Finn, encounter an aged Han Solo who reflects back upon his adventures with Luke and Leia which resulted in the collapse of the Empire. Han assures them that the legends, especially those regarding the Jedi and the Force, of that time were all real. Han isn’t just reassuring Rey and Finn that their fantasies are grounded in a historical reality; Abrams is communicating the same thing to the audience through these characters. Like any young Star Wars fan, Finn and Rey have heard all about the Force, the Jedi, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, but for them it is more mythology than history. Abrams is reminding the audience of that the mystery of the original films was real and that it has returned for them. And by identifying the fan audience with the heroes of the film Abrams is also saying that they are the heroes of the franchise, that this is their story. Star Wars fandom is a force unto itself, and Abrams intended to re-awaken it with his appropriately titled The Force Awakens.      
            
          Another insightful, but more critical scene is where the Resistance is reviewing their plans to attack Starkiller Base; one Resistance member exclaims that the base is another Death Star, only to be corrected that it’s not because its many times larger than the Death Star and rather than being another space station, it’s an entire planet. This moment is a perfect metaphor for the entire film, especially so since the actual attack upon Starkiller Base plays out little different than the attacks upon each Death Star in previous films. Like Starkiller Base, The Force Awakens is a more impressive and powerful version of its predecessors but just as predictable and insubstantial as them. These limitations are all the more obvious for Abrams’ film however. Abrams has improved upon previous Star Wars films on a technical level, but has failed to innovate on them on a narrative one. Thematically the film itself appears aware of grappling with the burdens of history and the elevation of history into mythology. If Disney is like the Empire, or rather the First Order, then Kylo Ren is reminiscent of Abrams. Kylo Ren idolizes Darth Vader and wants to finish what he started but underlying his determination is an insecurity that he will never be as powerful as his predecessor. This insecurity of any director taking up the mantle of the Star Wars franchise is as understandable as it is apparent in The Force Awakens. Abrams clearly wants to make a film in the image of Lucas’ which he idolizes, but it is that very nostalgic desire for fan service which weakens his film in the end, exposing it to criticism and exploding it as an exciting but empty spectacle.

          Nostalgia is inherent in both the Star Wars series and the science-fantasy sub-genre to which the series belongs. Whereas standard fantasy romanticizes previous periods of history, most commonly the Medieval and Victorian, the science-fantasy setting of Star Wars romanticizes the past of a projected future. It is an imagined future in which technology has become synonymous with mythology, making an appropriate reflection of our own time’s technological fetishism and consumer devotion. The narrative of the Star Wars universe is told in retrospect as is typical of fantasy but is situated within a setting more familiar to science fiction than fantasy. This obscure juxtaposition between the genres of science and fantasy fiction and between the past and future explains the timeless appeal of the franchise. As the series is from the perspective of a projected future reflecting on its own ancient past, it places our audience to that narrative in a unique position between past and future. By returning to old works within the series, we not only see how the future in the Star Wars universe imagines its own past, but we also witness how our own past imagined the future. In being able to bounce between the past, present and future of our world and that which Lucas created, we experience something truly timeless yet unique to each generation exposed to it. 

          Of course the absence of narrative context works to the advantage of Disney to earn additional profits off of the franchise by producing supplemental material meant to add substance to empty narrative of The Force Awakens. In retrospect it appears inevitable and ironic that an entertainment empire like Disney would inherit a franchise as immense as Star Wars. What began as an obscure rebellion against film orthodoxy with A New Hope had expanded to become a monumental and mythic franchise by Return of the Jedi. Then Lucas created the self-indulgent prequel trilogy telling of the tragic collapse of the Republic into the Empire which ironically mirrored the collapse of his own authority over the franchise and approval amongst its fan base. Disney purchased the franchise from Lucas after his fall from grace, stripped the expanded universe of its canonical status, and began restructuring the series with The Force Awakens being the first film in its re-imagined future for the franchise. But with security offered by the Disney empire has apparently come the stagnation of the franchises’ imaginative potential. Abrams’ film left me nostalgic for the original trilogy where there was an optimism that empire could be defeated. While watching his film I not only felt as though the Rebellion had failed to defeat the Empire after Return of the Jedi, but I myself felt defeated by the glaring reminder of the corporate empires that rule over and restrict our imaginations to protect their profits and consumer interests.

          While I am no longer afraid of the future of the franchise as I was once during the time of the prequel films but that doesn’t mean that I am suddenly instilled with a renewed energy to explore the Star Wars universe again. Perhaps I have outgrown the franchise as some of my fan friends have accused me of for having this critical disposition towards The Force Awakens. And in a sense I think they are right. I have aged since the films I watched as a child and I expected that the world of the films to age with me. Returning to it, I expected Abrams to be interested in a post-Empire galaxy. But apparently he had no interest in exploring this world, beyond using it to repeat the events of A New Hope with an updated cast of characters and improved effects. The Force Awakens left me uninspired to attempt to explore the galaxy on my own, especially when Disney’s purchase of the franchise from Lucas stripped that universe of so much of its once-canonical depth in the expanded universe. Walking out of The Force Awakens didn’t leave discouraged to keep exploring Star Wars so much as it suggested there was not much to explore in the first place. Hopefully the film served more as an extended prologue to potential for the franchise rather than a proper introduction to it properly. If the following films are more interested in expanding the narrative and exploring the motivation of characters and factions than Abrams’ was, I will be willing to explore it with them. But if the successors to The Force Awakens are little more than reworked versions of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi then I think it will be time for me to abandon a galaxy far, far away.

The Blunt Force of Star Wars Nostalgia Awakens (Part I)

Note: This is a multi-part revision of a previous essay of the same title. Each part is linked below
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Spoiler Warning: This post contains spoilers for the film Star Wars: The Force Awakens (but only spoilers about spoilers)


            Since I saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens three weeks ago I have been struggling to put my conflicted feelings regarding the film into a coherent critique. I touched upon some of this criticisms in my essay titled "Star Wars, Spoiler Warnings, and the Social Contracts of Nerds". This is a more thorough criticism of the film's nostalgia for Lucas' films and its relationship to their mythological structure and status. And while I don’t feel especially satisfied with this essay, I feel that complete confident in it is impossible. Star Wars is a franchise too mythic in proportion for one’s feelings towards it to be adequately contained within a single film, let alone the entire film franchise itself. Since Star Wars: A New Hope the franchise has expanded in the imaginations of its fan community well beyond the confines of the original films and into various spin-off films, television series, video-games, literature, and toy lines. Whether or not one approved of JJ Abrams’ latest incarnation of the Star Wars universe, the fictional universe still exists beyond the film for one to enjoy, and one’s opinion of The Force Awakens is inevitably informed by one’s prejudices towards this expanded canon.

            As the first Star Wars film in 10 years and the first non-prequel film since 1983, it has been a long time since fans of the series were able to enjoy a galaxy far, far away on a theater film screen. And between the revered opinion of the original trilogy and the reviled status of the prequel trilogy, the pressure to produce not only a new Star Wars film but one satisfactory to the series’ immense fan community could not be greater. Set 30 years after Return of the Jedi, the film sees the Resistance of the Republic in conflict with the remnant of the Empire, the First Order. Both are searching for the last Jedi, Luke Skywalker. The cast is comprised of characters both new and familiar to any fan of the franchise. The returning characters have taken the mantle of their predecessors, with Luke becoming a hermit mentor like Yoda and Obi-Wan and Leia having risen to lead the Resistance as Mon Mothma once led the Rebellion. Han Solo and Chewbacca are back to smuggling however. As for the new cast, they are a mix of archetypes from previous films, marking them as a compromise between originality and familiarity.

            Whether there are numerous similarities between The Force Awakens and A New Hope is without doubt. Consider these plot points as they apply to both movies: A droid possessing valuable information to the Rebellion travels across a desert planet and is captured by scavengers. Said droid is rescued by an unintended, Force-sensitive youth living in isolation. The former owner of the droid is tortured by a Dark-side Force-user to reveal its location. When the droid is tracked down, a settlement is massacred by Stormtroopers while the hero and droid escape. They escape from Stormtroopers on the Millennium Falcon. The heroes are joined by an old warrior who tells them about the Force and there is a shoot-out between Han Solo and those looking to collect their debt from him. The Dark-side Force-user works besides a cruel military commander, both in the service of a dark-robed figure seen via hologram. There is a cantina filled with a large variety of alien species and a massive planetoid weapon used to destroy planets. The Resistance base is on a jungle planet. There is an assault upon the weapon base with X-Wing fighters and a rescue attempt by the heroes to save one of their own. There is a confrontation between the mentor-figure of the heroes and someone close to him who has betrayed him for the Dark-side of the Force and cuts him down as the remaining heroes look on in horror. I could go on and on but I feel this list hits upon the major parallels between the films.  

            Lest my review appear excessively critical for someone claiming to be a longtime fan of the Star Wars franchise, allow me to place my commentary within the context of watching the film itself. Few of my criticisms were apparent to my while watching the film, only becoming conscious to me as I was walking out of the theater and driving home. During the film I remain engrossed in the characters and entertained by the action. The Force Awakens is unquestionably superior to the prequels trilogy, and in a particular sense is even better than the original trilogy of films themselves. Abrams’ film possesses iconic and inspiring new heroes of a new generation of Star Wars fans to identify with. The dialogue and relationships between characters felt both more natural and energetic than any in prior films. The action too was noticeably more intense and explosive without undermining its dramatic significance to the narrative, except for one crucial scene which I will discuss below. The set, prop and character design and effects had a physicality to them absent in the CGI-excess of the prequels. This was both nostalgic of the original films’ practical effects but also gave Abrams’ film a lived-in authenticity. Those CGI effects that Abram’s did employ added new depth to the underlying mechanics of the Star Wars universe such as light-sabers burning the armor and flesh of those struck by them or Kylo Ren using the Force to stop the momentum of a speeding laser bolt. If the film has one iconic scene, it is surely that spectacle.